That night felt quieter than usual. Wind slipped through the gap in the not-quite-closed window of Althea’s bedroom, making the sheer curtain beside her bed move gently. The girl was still sitting there, staring at the screen of her nearly dead phone. The clock on the wall showed 12:30 a.m.
Althea usually would have been asleep for an hour by now. She wasn’t the type to stay up late without a reason. But for some reason, her mind felt crowded that night. So many little things kept circling through her head, from unfinished assignments to the strange feeling she hadn’t been able to explain since that afternoon.
“Why have I felt so uneasy all night?” she muttered, setting her phone on the table.
She stood to get her charger. She had only taken a few steps toward the small table near the bedroom door when the sound suddenly rang out.
The cry.
Althea stopped.
Her body went rigid. She held her breath, trying to determine whether the sound she’d heard was real or only in her head.
The sound came faintly from outside her room.
Like someone crying quietly.
“Who’s there?” Althea asked softly.
There was no answer.
She approached the bedroom door carefully. Her hand touched the doorknob, but she hesitated to open it.
The cry came again.
This time, it was clearer.
Althea quickly pulled her hand away.
“This isn’t funny if someone’s messing with me,” she said, trying to convince herself.
She had been living in the old house she’d inherited from her grandmother for three months. The house was large, but Althea was the only one living there now. Her parents lived in another city for work, while Althea had chosen to live alone so she could be closer to college.
Ever since she first moved in, a few neighbors had told her the house had a long history. But Althea had never really believed them.
To her, a house was just a house.
Until tonight.
She picked up her phone and turned on the flashlight. Hesitantly, Althea opened the bedroom door.
The hallway in front of her room was dark.
The small light that usually stayed on at the end of the hallway had suddenly gone out.
“Great timing,” she muttered irritably.
She walked slowly. Every step echoed clearly because the wooden floor of the house was already old.
Creak.
The floor groaned.
Althea stopped.
She looked back.
There was no one there.
“Althea, don’t start imagining things,” she told herself.
She continued toward the living room. The cry seemed to have come from there.
But when she reached the living room, everything looked normal.
The sofa was still in its place. The old cabinet in the corner was still closed. There was no one there.
Althea let out a relieved breath.
“Maybe I’m just exhausted.”
As she was about to return to her room, something on the small table near the window caught her eye.
An old photograph.
She was sure it hadn’t been there before.
Althea walked over and picked it up.
The photograph looked faded. In it, a young woman stood in front of the same house where Althea now lived.
There was a small inscription on the back of the photograph.
“Don’t leave the cry alone.”
Althea furrowed her brow.
“What does that mean?”
She turned the photograph over again, trying to find another clue. But there was nothing else written on it.
Suddenly, the cry came again.
This time, it wasn’t coming from outside.
It was coming from upstairs.
Althea stared at the ceiling.
Her heart began to beat faster.
She knew one thing.
The upstairs had been unused for a long time.
Since moving in, she hadn’t even gone up there because the rooms were still filled with her grandmother’s old belongings.
“Don’t tell me…” she whispered.
Before she could finish, her phone vibrated.
Althea nearly dropped the photograph in her hand in surprise.
The name on the screen was Raka.
Her college friend, who often helped whenever she had trouble handling her assignments.
Althea answered immediately.
“Hello?”
“Althea? You’re not asleep yet?” Raka’s voice came from the other end.
“Not yet. Why?”
“I don’t know. I just felt like calling you.”
Althea was silent for a moment.
“Why all of a sudden?”
“I don’t know. Just a feeling.”
Althea looked toward the stairs leading upstairs.
“Raka…”
“Yeah?”
“Do you think a house can hold on to something?”
Raka let out a small laugh.
“You’re being serious?”
“Yes.”
“If you mean memories, sure. A house is where a lot of things happen. But if you mean something weird, I don’t know.”
Althea bit her lip.
She hesitated to tell him about the crying she’d heard.
“What’s wrong?” Raka asked.
“I heard someone crying.”
The mood on the phone changed instantly.
“At the house?”
“Yes.”
“Althea, are you alone?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t go upstairs yet.”
Raka’s tone only made Althea more curious.
“Why?”
“Because I’ve heard stories about that house.”
Althea fell silent.
“What kind of stories?”
Raka drew a breath.
“I’ll tell you later. For now, just stay downstairs.”
“But I need to know.”
“Althea…”
“I can’t pretend I didn’t hear it, Raka.”
For several seconds, there was no sound.
Finally, Raka spoke softly.
“There used to be someone in that house who often cried upstairs.”
Althea stared at the dark staircase.
“Who?”
“I don’t know everything yet.”
“Then how do you know?”
“My grandfather used to live nearby. He once told me there was a room that was always kept locked.”
Althea looked toward the upstairs floor.
The door to the room at the very end was slightly open.
Even though she was sure it had been closed earlier.
“Raka…”
“Yeah?”
“I think the door just opened.”
“Althea, don’t go over there.”
But her curiosity had already overcome her fear.
She slowly walked toward the stairs.
“Althea?”
“I’m just going to take a quick look.”
“Don’t.”
But Althea had already made up her mind.
Each step toward the upstairs felt heavier than the last.
The cry sounded closer and closer.
When her foot landed on the final step, she saw a long hallway with several closed doors.
Except for one.
The door at the very end.
The room was slightly open.
And from inside came the clear sound of crying.
Althea stood still.
For the first time that night, she felt that the voice wasn’t trying to frighten her.
As if someone had been waiting for her to come.
With trembling hands, Althea approached the door.
“Who are you?” she asked softly.
The crying stopped.
The house fell completely silent.
Then a woman’s voice, very soft, spoke.
“Althea…”
She froze.
The voice was calling her name.
It wasn’t just some unfamiliar voice.
It sounded like someone who had known her for a long time.
“I’ve been waiting for you.”