When 16-year-old Mina shifted to the quiet hillside town of Ashokvan,she believed the hardest thing would be adjusting to a new school. She was wrong.
Their new house stood at the edge of a forest, old and silent, as if it had been waiting. The locals called it "the listening house." Mina laughed at the nickname—until the whispers began.
Every night at exactly 3:03 a.m., she heard a faint scratching sound behind her bedroom wall. At first she blamed rats. But the scratching turned into murmurs—low, urgent voices calling her name.
"Mina… don't trust him…"
The next morning, she confronted her father. He dismissed it as stress. Her mother avoided eye contact. Only her younger brother Aarush seemed genuinely frightened. He admitted he had heard the whispers too—but only when Mina was near.
Days passed, and Mina's sleep faded. Her reflection in the mirror began to look… different. Darker. Tired eyes stared back at her, even when she felt awake.
One afternoon, while cleaning her room, she discovered a small, sealed door hidden behind her wardrobe. Her heart pounded. With trembling fingers, she pushed it open.
Inside was a narrow passage leading to a tiny chamber. On the dusty floor lay dozens of pages—her handwriting.
But she had never written them.
Each page described events that had not yet happened.
The last page made her blood run cold:
"Tonight at 3:03 a.m., Mina will remember what she did."
The clock struck 3:03.
The whispers stopped.
And in the sudden silence, Mina heard a voice—clear, calm, and terrifying.
It was her own.
"I'm still here."
The mirror across the room cracked.
From inside it, a hand slowly pressed outward.
And Mina finally remembered.
She had never moved to Ashokvan.
She had been here before.
And someone had died.
To be continued.....