CHAPT 9: A Broken Silence

The rhythmic tapping of keys filled Lynda’s dimly lit living room as she worked on editing her latest article. The glow from her laptop screen was the only light in the room, casting soft shadows against the walls. She was completely immersed in her work, eyes scanning the words she had just typed, fingers ready to fix any imperfection.

As a journalist, she was used to late nights spent refining stories, making sure every detail was polished. But tonight, there was something different. A strange heaviness lingered in the air—something she couldn’t quite place.

She shook her head, dismissing the unease creeping into her thoughts. Focus, Lynda. Just finish this. She took a sip of her now-cold coffee, grimacing at the bitterness before returning her attention to the screen.

Then, it happened.

CRASH!

The sharp sound of shattering ceramic jolted her out of her concentration. Lynda’s fingers froze mid-typing, her heart skipping a beat. The noise had come from outside. She turned her head toward the window, her breath catching in her throat.

For a moment, everything was silent again—eerily so. The kind of silence that made her more anxious than the noise itself.

Slowly, she stood from her chair, careful not to make a sound. She grabbed her phone from the table, its cool surface grounding her. Taking hesitant steps, she approached the front door, heart hammering against her ribcage. She reached for the light switch but stopped herself. If someone was outside, she didn’t want to alert them that she was awake and aware.

Instead, she peeked through the blinds, her eyes scanning the front yard. At first, everything seemed normal—just the dimly lit porch and the quiet street beyond. But then, her gaze landed on the shattered remains of her ceramic flowerpot, scattered across the ground.

Her stomach tightened.

That pot had been sitting on the small table beside her porch steps since the day she moved in. The way it was broken—pieces scattered far apart—wasn’t natural. It hadn’t simply fallen over. Something, or someone, had thrown it.

A chill ran down her spine.

Lynda swallowed hard, gripping her phone tighter. Should she go outside? Or should she pretend she hadn’t noticed?

Her journalistic instincts told her to investigate, but her common sense warned her against it.

Then, from the corner of her eye, she saw movement.

It was quick, just a shadow shifting near the hedges.

Her pulse spiked. Someone was out there.

Lynda took a step back, feeling her breath quicken. Who would do this? And why? Her mind raced with possibilities—was it some neighborhood kid playing a prank? A random act of vandalism? Or… was it something else?

Was it connected to the history of this house?

She hated how quickly her thoughts jumped there, but the eerie behavior of her neighbors, the way they avoided speaking about this place—it all resurfaced in her mind.

Lynda took another step back, debating whether she should call someone. The police? That seemed excessive. Isaac?

Her thoughts faltered at the idea. Would he think she was being paranoid? He had only just offered his help earlier that evening. Would calling him now seem too… desperate?

Before she could decide, another noise startled her.

This time, it wasn’t the sound of breaking glass. It was a whisper.

Faint. Muffled. Right outside the door.

Lynda’s breath hitched. She strained to hear, but the voice was too soft to make out any words.

Someone was standing there.

A surge of adrenaline coursed through her veins. Without thinking, she grabbed the nearest object—her half-full coffee mug—and held it tightly, as if that would protect her. Stay calm. Think.

Then, silence.

Lynda waited, but no more sounds came. No footsteps, no whispers, nothing. She counted the seconds in her head, her heartbeat the only thing she could hear.

Finally, she moved.

Taking a deep breath, she carefully unlocked the door but didn’t open it fully—just enough to see through the small gap. She scanned the porch.

Nothing.

Her eyes darted to the broken pot again, then to the street beyond. No signs of anyone. It was as if whoever had been there had vanished.

She hesitated, debating whether to step outside. The air felt thick with something she couldn’t name.

Then—a rustle from the hedges.

Lynda’s body tensed. She turned sharply, her fingers tightening around the doorknob.

And then, from the darkness, a voice. Low. Almost amused.

“You shouldn’t have moved here.”

Her blood ran cold.

The words were barely above a whisper, but they sent a shiver down her spine. Her body locked up, a million thoughts racing through her head.

Who said that? Who’s there?

She wanted to demand answers, to chase whoever it was, but her fear rooted her in place. And before she could react, the presence disappeared. No footsteps. No shadows. Just gone.

Lynda slammed the door shut, locking it immediately. Her breath came in shallow gasps as she backed away, her pulse pounding in her ears.

What the hell had just happened?

She checked the time on her phone. 1:47 AM.

Too late to do anything about it now.

Her mind reeled. This was more than just some random accident. Someone had been outside her house, watching. Whispering. Warning her.

She needed to talk to someone.

And suddenly, she knew exactly who to call.

Without hesitating, she scrolled through her contacts and tapped a name. The phone rang once. Twice. Then—

“Lynda?” Isaac’s voice was groggy but alert.

Lynda swallowed hard, gripping the phone. “Isaac… someone was outside my house.”

There was a pause. Then, his tone shifted, suddenly serious. “I’m coming over. Stay inside. Don’t open the door until I get there.”

Lynda exhaled shakily, her grip tightening around the phone. “Okay.”