Evelyn stepped closer to the wall, where the carvings pulsed faintly like veins beneath skin.
The whispers turned to screams — hundreds of voices calling her name in unison.
Her flashlight burst, showering sparks, and in that instant she saw faces in the walls — mouths open, eyes wide, all silently screaming.
A cold hand grabbed her ankle. She fell. The dirt swallowed her as if the ground itself were breathing.
When the sun rose, the house was quiet again.
On the floor where she had stood, new words had appeared, freshly carved:
“It remembers her.”