# "THE SILENT HOUSE"

 

# PROLOGUE

There are places that are simply empty. Abandoned. Neglected.

And there are those that **wait**.

The house at 6 Klonowa Street belonged to the latter category.

It stood alone on a hill, from a distance a dark stain against the sky. During the day, it looked ordinary—with peeling paint, a dilapidated porch, and an overgrown garden. At night, however… at night, it seemed alive: the rustle of the wind was like a whisper, and the shadows lengthened unnaturally.

People didn't speak of it out loud. Those who lived closest said that it had uttered its last human scream over twenty years ago—the scream of a woman who had disappeared. Her body had never been found. There were no signs of a struggle.

It simply… had ceased to exist.

The house wasn't empty.

He was hungry.

He waited.

---

# CHAPTER I — RETURN

Lena West returned to town after fifteen years away. Every step toward the house on the hill sent shivers through her. She didn't want to go back. Every inch of this land reminded her of something she didn't want to remember. But her mother had died, leaving her a home she'd sworn never to visit.

At the gate, the wind carried a familiar, metallic scent—the air seemed to remember that day.

"It's just a house," she whispered to herself. "Just a house."

But her heart didn't believe the words.

As she crossed the threshold, she felt a sudden chill. Each step on the old boards creaked, as if the house were whispering her name. Lena felt the walls pulsate, alive, watching.

--

# CHAPTER II — FIRST NIGHT

The house greeted her with a silence so profound she could hear her own breathing. The air smelled musty and damp—unidentifiable, yet familiar, like an echo of childhood.

The stairs creaked beneath her feet. She felt every step being watched. As she entered the bedroom, she saw an old duvet and a lit candle. The light flickered, casting strange, quivering shadows on the walls.

As she lay down on the bed, she heard slow, purposeful footsteps downstairs. They weren't human. Each step seemed to drag one leg behind the other, the rhythm unnatural, sending shivers down her spine.

One step. Two. Three.

And silence.

A whisper close to her ear:

"Lena... you're back."

She didn't have time to scream. She fainted.

---

# CHAPTER III — THE CHILDHOOD YOU DON'T TALK ABOUT

In the morning, she woke up on the cold floor. She wanted to believe it was a dream, but there was a distinct mark on her neck—light, like the touch of a hand she would never remember.

The house remembered. Lena was beginning to remember.

When she was seven, something woke her every night. She couldn't see a figure, but she knew someone was standing next to her bed. Watching. Breathing.

One day she ran to her mother. But her mother only repeated,

"Don't talk about it. Never."

She wasn't alone in the house. Never.

--

# CHAPTER IV - MIRRORS

The second evening, Lena found something she didn't remember. At the end of the hall stood a dirty, cracked mirror. When she looked, the reflection wasn't hers. The figure in the mirror was paler, thinner, with blue lips and empty eyes. It moved with a delay, as if mimicking everything.

When Lena raised her hand, the reflection lifted it a second later. When she lowered it, the reflection remained still. It smiled broadly. Lena screamed. The reflection returned to normal, but the icy, knowing look in his eyes remained.

The house didn't just remember.

The house watched.

--

# CHAPTER V - THE FRIEND WHO IS GONE

On the third day, Daniel, a childhood friend, came.

"I heard you came back," he said quietly. "Martha said something about this house."

"I didn't have a friend," Lena paled.

"You did. Except he wasn't a child," Daniel replied.

At that moment, all the lights went out. A shadow appeared on the wall—taller than them. A shadow that moved despite their stillness.

--

# CHAPTER VI - VOICES FROM THE WALLS

The house began to make organic sounds. Not the creak of wood, not a draft—something alive. A whisper that seemed to come from deep within her:

— **You're back… don't go…**

Not a ghost, not a hallucination. Something knew her thoughts. She remembered the night from years ago: a hand gripping her wrist, a shadow over the bed, a light that had suddenly gone out.

--

# CHAPTER VII — BASEMENT

The house trembled. Descending into the basement, Lena smelled musty and heavy air. Downstairs, she saw a door that hadn't been there before. Behind it, something moved and breathed.

--

# CHAPTER VIII — THE DOOR THAT NEVER WAS

The walls pulsated like skin. The other Alice was gone, only footprints melting into the floor. She ran until she saw a door—pale blue, scratched, open. Warm light radiated from within.

She crossed the threshold and found herself in her memory: the last day she saw her mother alive.

--

# CHAPTER IX — THE MOTHER WHO DOESN'T LOOK

The smell of dinner filled the kitchen, the lights dimmed. Her mother sat at the table, her eyes on the window. Alice whispered:

"Mother?"

Oh.

Silence answered. Eyes as empty as mirrors.

"Because there... you haven't stopped calling me."

Mother hovered a few inches above the floor. The other Alice stood behind her.

"This place belongs to me," she said. "You only invited me in."

The light dimmed, and Alice screamed.

--

# CHAPTER X - THE CONNECTION

She lay on the pulsing floor. The room was alive, breathing with the rhythm of her heart. The other Alice and her mother stood above her.

"This house isn't haunted. It is your space," the other Alice whispered.

She couldn't get up. The material beneath her was slowly drawing her in.

"You can't escape from yourself," the other Alice whispered.

The room collapsed. Alice was falling into a bottomless pit.

"Come back..." came her own voice.

---

# CHAPTER XI — A SPACE THAT HAS NO END

A fall without bottom, direction, or time. Her body lost form. She hit something soft, warm, breathing.

"You're back"—many voices at once.

Dozens of versions of Alice, each in a different state and appearance. "Why do you look like me?"

"Because we are you."

--

# CHAPTER XII — A PROCESSION OF SHADOWS

Shadows accompanied her like a procession. Reflections: one skinless, another crying blood, another laughing silently.

She fell to her knees.

"Why won't you leave me?!

"Because you can't leave yourself alone."

The figures clapped. The sound was hollow, crunching.

"This house was inside you."

---

# CHAPTER XIII — THE ECHO THAT HAS A FACE

Something larger emerged from the darkness. A face: dozens of faces superimposed.

“Who are you…?”

“I am an echo, a rejected voice, a shadow that fed the house, that which has returned,” the voices replied simultaneously.

“Why… all this…?”

“So you understand: you are running from yourself.”

Hands touched her face. The world shattered.

--

# CHAPTER XIV — THE AWAKENING THAT NEVER CAME

Alice woke up in her room. The sun was shining. Birds were singing. Normally.

She touched her cheek: the imprint of a hand—not hers. A second Alice stood in the mirror. Smiling. Still.