Hearing Voices

I first heard the voices on my first night there. It was utterly hard to hear how many of them were talking for they kept on talking in chorus. They sounded as if they were in a cave, a cave so long and wide that their echoes travel everywhere. They were whispering words, the majority of them I didn’t understand, although I heard a few English such as “stubborn”, “arithmetic”, and “ongoing”.

Five months ago, I bought a house in a small but cozy town from a friend of mine. I bought it from my best friend after he and his wife broke up. It was the biggest house there, and that fact made me proud. The house stood two-stories high and one look of it would already tell you lots of stories. The house looked so amazing that one cannot distinguish the style used by the designer in designing the house. However, what I think was the most amazing thing about this beauty that I had bought, was this wooden cottage at the back.

The cottage looked new, like it stood there for only a few weeks. It was well-furnished inside. Valuable-looking moose heads hung on the wall (my friend was kind enough to give them to me), a long, Persian carpet rested on the floor, and a statue of an angel stood proudly near the door. The whole cottage looked absolutely expensive to build. It was no wonder my best friend and his wife had broken up.

Because of the welcoming look of the cottage, I let myself sleep there on my very first night (I live alone). I was excited because the cottage kind of gives this feeling like you are in the woods. But, those voices ruined everything.

The voices woke me up at midnight. I lied on the bed with my eyes wide open and listened. They sounded like they were everywhere, like they were traveling quickly around the room. There was a time I heard one of them whisper in my ear. I couldn’t hear them well, as some of them were stuttering and some of them were whispering very low.

I thought that this kind of paranormal haunting only happen at night. I was dead wrong. Whenever I went inside the cottage on a bright sunny day to relax after work, the voices were still there. They just kept on going and going as long as my feet were stepping inside the cottage itself.

It came to a point when I found the voices more annoying than disturbing. I hypothesized that the cottage was built on a cemetery, so I called my best friend to check if I was right. However, as if they didn’t want me to find out, my best friend wouldn’t answer his phone.

The time came when they kept on talking and talking until I actually lose my patience. I heaved the statue towards the middle of the room, dragged it on top of the Persian carpet, and smashed it on the floor. The voices instantly stopped. I was panting so heavily that every time I exhaled, it hurt. I looked around. For the very first time ever, there was silence in the cottage.

On the first minute of hearing the silence, I almost regretted smashing the angel statue on the floor. It had made a small hole on the ground, and it looked expensive to fix. Without warning, something greeted my nose.

Using every bit of my strength, I broke the wooden floor planks until I was able to make a hole large enough to see what was underneath the cottage. There was nothing but soil. But, something inside me told me to dig. Something was telling me to continue.

A few days later, everything was fine in the cottage. There were no more voices to be heard, and there was no one to ever annoy me again. I found my best friend’s wife and children underneath the cottage; all of them were sprawled there on different positions. All of them had at least five knife marks on their body, and all of them were naked.

I am currently searching for my best friend right now. Why did he have to do it? That was not the answer to a problem, especially if the problem is only divorce. I am now here to make a plea for help.

Have you seen him? Please?