Lucy always considered herself a skeptic. A firm believer in logic and reason, she had never once been convinced by the tales of haunted houses, spirits, or anything supernatural. But when her friend Claire invited her to visit an old, abandoned house on the edge of town, Lucy couldn’t resist the challenge. It was, after all, just another story—the kind Claire loved to tell.

The house had been empty for decades, standing like a decaying monument to forgotten times. Windows were broken, doors hung askew, and the walls were covered in peeling wallpaper, but despite the disrepair, the place exuded an eerie charm. Claire insisted that it was the perfect spot for an afternoon adventure.

“Just think of it as a test of bravery,” Claire teased, her eyes gleaming with excitement. “I bet you’ll see the ghosts, or whatever they say haunts this place.”

Lucy rolled her eyes. “There are no ghosts, Claire. There’s probably just a bunch of old junk in there.”

But as they crossed the threshold of the house, Lucy couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t quite right. The air inside was thick, heavy with dust and the smell of mildew, but there was something else too. Something… unnatural. It was as if the house was holding its breath, waiting for them to disturb its silence.

They explored the lower floor first—broken furniture, remnants of what used to be a grand home. The kitchen was covered in grime, but there was a strange symbol carved into the wooden table. Claire, ever the thrill-seeker, pulled out her phone to take pictures, laughing as she snapped shots of the faded, ghostly images on the walls.

But when they ventured upstairs, that’s when things started to change.

The second floor was even more decayed, the once-pristine floors now warped and cracked. The rooms were empty except for a few items left behind: a shattered mirror, a dusty rug, and one peculiar detail—tiny marks on the walls, faint but noticeable, like something had scraped against the plaster.

“Do you see this?” Lucy asked, running her fingers over the marks.

Claire looked closer. “It’s probably just wear and tear,” she said dismissively. But Lucy felt a growing unease in her stomach, something gnawing at her, urging her to leave.

As they continued exploring, Claire suddenly froze. “Did you hear that?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Lucy stopped, straining to listen. The house was silent, except for the occasional creak of the floorboards beneath their feet. But then, faintly, Lucy heard it—like a scratching sound, coming from the walls.

“Probably rats,” Lucy said, trying to dismiss the fear that was beginning to creep up on her. But even as she said it, she knew something wasn’t right.

“Let’s keep going,” Claire urged, tugging at her sleeve.

They moved deeper into the house, and as they entered the master bedroom, Lucy felt a sudden, overwhelming cold. It was as if the temperature had dropped twenty degrees in an instant. The room was dark, only a few beams of sunlight filtering through the grimy windows. And yet, it was there—on the walls, covering almost every surface—tiny, perfectly round holes. Hundreds of them.

Lucy felt her breath catch in her throat. The scratching sound was louder now, as though something—or someone—was desperately trying to claw its way out.

“Let’s go,” Lucy said, her voice shaky.

But before they could leave, Claire noticed something strange—a reflection in the mirror. The faint outline of a figure standing just behind them, its face obscured in shadow.

Claire gasped. “Did you see that?”

Lucy spun around, but the room was empty.

“No one’s here,” she said, but her voice wavered.

Claire’s eyes were wide with fear. “There was someone standing behind us… right there. I swear it.”

Lucy glanced at the mirror again, but saw only their own reflections. The fear that had been building inside her now threatened to overtake her. “We need to leave,” she whispered urgently.

They made their way back to the stairs, but as they descended, the scratching grew louder—closer. It was coming from the walls, from everywhere. It sounded like claws dragging across wood, relentless and hungry.

Suddenly, Claire screamed.

Lucy spun around to see Claire standing frozen, her eyes wide with terror. “It’s in the walls!” she shouted, pointing to the corners of the room where the holes seemed to be expanding.

The sound of claws—human claws—scratching, scraping, and digging into the walls filled the air. The holes grew larger, and something was starting to emerge from within.

Lucy’s heart pounded in her chest as the walls began to crack, revealing pale, gaunt faces—eyes wide and unblinking—peering through the gaps. Their faces were twisted with desperation, their mouths moving in silent screams, trying to break free.

“Help us…”

Lucy stumbled back, horrified. The walls… the walls were alive. The faces were not just images but trapped souls, buried within the house, cursed to claw their way out, inch by inch.

“Run!” Lucy screamed, grabbing Claire’s arm and pulling her toward the door.

They bolted down the stairs, hearing the frantic scratching behind them, the walls closing in as the faces grew more desperate. But when they reached the front door, it wouldn’t budge. It was as if the house had sealed them inside.

With a final, terrifying scream, Lucy shoved the door with all her strength, and it flew open. They tumbled out onto the overgrown lawn, gasping for air, their bodies trembling with fear.

Behind them, the house stood silent once again, its windows dark. But the whispers lingered, faint but unmistakable, carried on the wind.

“Help us… help us…”

As the sun began to set, Lucy knew one thing for sure—some houses weren’t meant to be explored. Some houses… weren’t meant to be left behind.

Thank you for reading The Eyes in the Walls. If this tale gave you chills, please hit the like button and share it with others who crave a good scare. You never know what may be lurking just around the corner.