The sun had already slipped behind the trees by the time Emma finished unpacking the few bags she had brought. The rest of her things were still in storage, but she didn't feel ready to bring them here yet. The mansion felt too big, too empty, as if it needed to get used to her before she could truly settle in.
She stood in the upstairs hallway, the wooden floor creaking softly under her weight. Her grandmother's scent still lingered in the air—a faint mix of lavender and old paper. It made her chest ache in a way she didn't expect.
Downstairs, the shadows seemed longer than they should have been. The wide staircase curved like a slow wave, disappearing into darkness. Emma found the light switch, but the bulb overhead flickered once, twice, and then went out completely.
She sighed and went into the kitchen. The cupboards were still stocked with her grandmother's old china, stacked neatly like they hadn't been touched in years. She poured herself a glass of water from the tap, the metal pipes groaning as if they, too, had been asleep for a long time.
When night finally settled over the house, Emma tried to make herself comfortable in the master bedroom. The heavy curtains blocked out most of the moonlight, leaving only a thin silver line along the wall. She lay on the bed, the blankets smelling faintly of cedar, and listened.
It was too quiet. The kind of quiet that made her ears ring.
Then she heard it—soft, almost delicate. A faint tapping sound, somewhere beyond the walls. It was slow and irregular, like someone drumming their fingers on wood. She sat up, heart thudding in her chest, straining to hear. The sound stopped.
For a while she stayed like that, staring at the dark, waiting for it to start again. But the house stayed silent. Eventually, she lay back down, pulling the blanket tighter around herself.
Sleep didn't come easily. Somewhere between drifting off and waking, she thought she heard a whisper. Not words—just the shape of them.
When she finally opened her eyes, the first pale light of dawn was slipping through the curtains. The tapping was gone, but the memory of it stayed with her. And somehow, she knew this was only the beginning.