In the quiet village of Ravenshade, an ancient well stood at its heart—forgotten, sealed shut with rusted chains. It was said that no one should whisper into the well after midnight. Legends told of a voice that answered back, a voice that did not belong to the living.
No one had tested the legend in years, until Aria, a skeptic, dared to break the silence. One stormy night, she stood before the well, her breath visible in the cold air. A challenge danced in her eyes as she leaned forward and whispered, “Is anyone there?”
For a moment, there was only silence. Then, from the depths, came a whisper—a chilling, rasping voice that mimicked her own:
“Is anyone there?”
Aria’s breath hitched. It was impossible. The well was sealed, untouched for decades. She swallowed and whispered again, “Who are you?”
A pause. Then, the voice slithered up the stones.
“Who are you?”
Her stomach twisted. It was copying her. Mocking her. Yet, curiosity held her captive. With a trembling voice, she whispered, “Come closer.”
Silence. Then, a slow, deliberate answer—“I am already behind you.”
A cold breath brushed her neck.
The next morning, the villagers found the well’s chains snapped, its lid ajar. Aria was nowhere to be found. But if you lean close enough… on the darkest of nights… you might still hear her whisper from the depths, “Is anyone there?”
