The Whisper House

Description

Script Vidéo

It was a dark and stormy night. Lightning slashed across the sky like silver claws, briefly illuminating the shadowy silhouette of the abandoned house at the end of the street — known by everyone as The Whisper House.

A 13-year-old boy, curious and brave, had always heard the stories the elders told: people who entered that house and came out silent… or never came out at all. But he didn’t believe in those things. It was just an old house, right?

With his phone’s flashlight in hand and his heart pounding louder than the thunder, he pushed open the rusty gate. The creak sounded like a distant scream. As soon as he stepped through the front door, it slammed shut behind him with a sharp bang. The boy swallowed hard.

— It must’ve been the wind… — he whispered to himself, though there was no breeze at all.

The house smelled of mold and dust. Strips of old wallpaper peeled from the walls, and crooked portraits stared down at him with eyes that seemed to follow his every move. He walked slowly, each step creaking on the rotting floorboards.

Then he heard it.

Tap... tap... tap...

Footsteps.

He turned quickly, but the hallway behind him was empty. The sound was coming from upstairs. Curious — or maybe crazy — he climbed the staircase.

At the top step, his phone flickered. Once. Twice. Then went black.

Darkness.

— Great… — he muttered, trembling.

Then, a slow, dragging voice whispered right next to his ear:

— You came to see me…

The boy froze. He wanted to run, scream, do anything — but his feet wouldn’t move. A dark figure appeared at the end of the hallway, slowly approaching, its eyes glowing and empty.

That night, the house whispered a new secret.

And the silence answered.