The strange whisper

The night was very cold and windy. Emma walked home from school, her shoes crunching on the dry leaves.

“I don’t like this,” she said softly, looking at the dark trees.

The street light flickered, on and off, on and off. She heard a noise behind her. tap… tap… tap… Emma turned around fast.

“Hello?” she called, but no one was there.

Her heart was beating loud, like a drum in her ears. She started walking faster, her hands shaking.

Then she heard it again. tap… tap… tap… This time it was closer. Emma ran to her house and pushed the door open.

“Mom!” she yelled, but the house was quiet.

Too quiet. The lights were off, even though her mom was always home.

“Mom, where are you?” Emma said, her voice small.

The floor creaked as she walked inside. The air smelled funny, like something old and wet. She turned on the light, but it flickered just like the street light. Then she saw muddy footprints on the floor. They were not her mom’s shoes.

They were big… and they led down the hall. Emma followed them slowly.

“This isn’t funny,” she whispered.

Her hands were cold, and she felt like someone was watching her. At the end of the hall, her bedroom door was open. tap… tap… tap…

The sound was coming from inside. Emma peeked in. The window was open, and the curtains moved like ghosts in the wind.

Then she saw something under her bed. A hand. It was pale and still, with long fingers. Emma gasped. “Who’s there!” she shouted, but her voice cracked.

The hand moved. Slowly, something crawled out. Its eyes were dark, and it smiled a crooked smile.

“Emma…” it whispered.

Emma screamed, but the lights went out. And the tapping never stopped.