Althea stood in front of her bedroom window, staring out at the backyard as it began to disappear beneath a thin veil of fog. That night felt quieter than usual. There was no sound of passing vehicles, no wind brushing against the trees—not even the sound of insects, as though it had vanished too.
She slowly drew the curtains and let out a sigh.
“Why does it feel like someone’s watching me?” she whispered.
Ever since everything that had happened over the past few days, Althea had begun to feel that something was different about the house. The old house she had lived in with her family had always had a strange atmosphere, but lately, a series of small incidents had begun to make her uneasy.
Doors opening on their own.
Footsteps in the hallway when everyone was already asleep.
And that night, something even more frightening happened.
Just as Althea was about to turn off her bedroom light, she heard a faint sound from outside.
The cry.
She froze.
At first, she thought it was only her imagination. But a few seconds later, she heard it again.
Soft.
Sorrowful.
Like someone struggling to hold back an overwhelming grief.
Althea hesitantly approached her bedroom door.
“Who’s there?” she asked.
There was no answer.
Only the cry, growing clearer from somewhere in the hallway.
Her hand stopped on the doorknob. Fear made her body go rigid, but curiosity kept her opening the door slowly.
The hallway was dark. A small light at the far end flickered as though it were about to burn out.
“This isn’t funny,” Althea said, trying to convince herself.
She slowly followed the sound.
The closer she got, the clearer the cry became. It was coming from an old room that had not been used for years.
The room her family had always forbidden her from entering.
Althea stopped in front of a wooden door that looked badly rotted.
“Why is that sound coming from here?” she murmured.
She pressed her ear against the door.
The cry stopped.
Althea immediately pulled away in shock.
A moment later, another sound came from inside.
“Althea...”
Her face went pale.
The voice had called her name.
“Who are you?” Althea asked, her voice trembling.
There was no answer.
She was just about to turn and leave when the room’s door slowly opened on its own.
The old hinges groaned at length, making the atmosphere even more terrifying.
Althea stared at the narrow opening.
“I’m not supposed to go in...” she whispered.
But her curiosity was stronger.
With cautious steps, she entered the room.
The air inside was colder than in the rest of the house. Dust covered nearly every corner. An old table stood near the window, while several wooden boxes were stacked in the corner.
In the middle of the room was a small chair.
The chair moved slowly.
Althea held her breath.
“Is someone here?”
Suddenly, her eyes fell on something atop the table.
An old photograph.
She picked it up slowly and brushed away the dust covering it.
The photograph showed a little girl standing in front of the same house.
Althea studied the girl’s face.
Her heart began to pound.
The girl in the photograph looked remarkably like her.
“That’s impossible...” she whispered.
As she continued staring at the photograph, the cry sounded again.
This time, it was closer.
Althea turned around.
In the corner of the room, she saw the faint shadow of a small child sitting with her head bowed.
“Are you the one who’s crying?” Althea asked.
The shadow did not answer.
Slowly, the child raised her head.
“I’ve been waiting for you,” she said.
Althea backed away several steps.
“Who are you?”
The child only stared at her with eyes full of sorrow.
“I want you to find something hidden in this house.”
“What do you mean?”
Before Althea could ask anything else, the shadow began to fade.
“Wait!” Althea shouted.
But the room was empty again.
The cry stopped.
Althea stood alone, clutching the old photograph.
She knew now that all the strange things happening in the house were not coincidences.
A great secret had been hidden there all along.
And without realizing it, Althea had made that night the beginning of a search that would change her life.
As she was about to leave the room, she saw a small line of writing on the wall that had not been there before.
The writing looked fresh, as though someone had just carved it.
“Don’t trust everything you remember.”
Althea stared at the sentence in confusion.
“What does that mean?”
There was no answer.
Only the sound of wind suddenly blowing in through the open window.
The old photograph in her hand felt colder and colder.
And for the first time, Althea began to wonder.
What if part of her past was not the reality she had always believed in?