The Echo in the Walls

In the dim glow of her phone, Priya scrolled through job listings, the only light in her cramped Ahmedabad apartment. Rent was due, and the power cuts were endless this monsoon season. The old building creaked like bones settling, but tonight, the walls hummed—a low vibration she felt in her teeth.It started small. A whisper, like wind through cracks, but the windows were sealed. "Priya," it sighed, her name slithering from the plaster. She froze, heart thudding. Imagination, she told herself, cranking up her music. But the voice persisted, clearer now: "Come closer."She pressed her ear to the wall. Silence. Then, a giggle—childlike, wet, as if drowning. Priya yanked back, knocking over her water glass. Water pooled on the floor, reflecting the bulb's flicker. In the puddle, eyes stared up—black, endless, not hers.The next night, scratches etched the paint: Play with me. Her neighbor, old Mrs. Patel, shrugged it off over chai. "This building's haunted. Kids vanished here decades ago, playing hide-and-seek in the walls. Never found."Priya laughed it off, but sleep evaded her. At 2 a.m., the humming returned, louder, pulling her from bed. Her hand touched the wall unbidden, fingers sinking into soft, yielding warmth. Not plaster—flesh. It pulsed, drawing her in.She screamed, wrenching free, but now the voice was inside her head: Hide and seek. You're it. Shadows writhed in corners, stretching like fingers. She bolted for the door, but it wouldn't budge. The walls breathed, closing in, wallpaper peeling to reveal tiny hands clawing through—pale, skeletal, beckoning.Footsteps pattered above, then below, circling. A child's face pressed against the ceiling, grinning with too many teeth, eyes milky from long submersion. "Found you," it whispered, and the floor softened underfoot.Priya clawed at the door, nails splintering, as the walls wept black ichor. One hand grabbed her ankle—cold, insistent—dragging her down. She kicked, glimpsing more faces in the floorboards: lost children, mouths open in eternal screams, playing forever.Her screams joined theirs as the building swallowed her whole. Outside, the street hummed with crickets, oblivious. Mrs. Patel glanced up, hearing nothing but the rain.By morning, the apartment was empty. New tenants moved in weeks later, complaining of whispers. The walls hummed softly: Who's next?