Footsteps
I barely slept after hearing the recording last night.
Every creak in the apartment kept me awake. Every shadow looked wrong. Around midnight, I even checked the locks three separate times.
But sometime after 3:00 a.m., exhaustion finally won.
This morning, the app recorded another conversation.
“Is he still asleep?”
“Yes.”
“He moved.”
“He does that sometimes.”
“I don’t like when he looks at us.”
“He can’t see us yet.”
Silence.
Then the sound of slow breathing near the microphone.
“What happens if he wakes up?”
A low creak of floorboards.
“Then we hide.”
Then silence.
The timestamp on the recording read 3:12 a.m.
I don’t know what to do now. Every shadow in this apartment makes me jump, and for the first time since moving here, this place doesn’t feel safe anymore. That had to be a real person in my room. I heard the floorboards creak in the recording—slow, deliberate footsteps moving around my bed.
I don’t know much about ghosts, but I’m pretty sure they aren’t heavy enough to make old wood groan under their weight.
…Are they?