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Mariam Akorede
Student @ Adekunle Ajasin university Akungba
Ibadan, Nigeria
1440
1001
48
12
Whispers at 3:03am
<p><br></p><p>Chapter 1 : The Ring</p><p><br></p><p><br></p><p><br></p><p>The first thing Mara Vex noticed about Greybridge was the silence.</p><p><br></p><p>Not the peaceful kind, but the sort that pressed against your ears—like the world was holding its breath. No city horns, no late-night sirens. Just fog curling around rusted lampposts and waves whispering secrets to the shore.</p><p><br></p><p>She hadn’t planned to stay. It was supposed to be a short assignment. One box of cold case files. Six weeks. Then back to the city.</p><p><br></p><p>That was four months ago.</p><p><br></p><p>Now, Mara lived in a rented house on the edge of the woods. No neighbors. A creek out back. And a burner phone on her nightstand—one she’d never used, never given out, and had almost forgotten about.</p><p><br></p><p>Until it rang.</p><p>At 3:03 a.m.</p><p><br></p><p>The first time, she didn’t answer.</p><p>The second time, she unplugged it.</p><p>The third time, it rang even without power.</p><p><br></p><p>And on the fourth night, something changed.</p><p><br></p><p><br></p><p>---</p><p><br></p><p>The ring tore through the silence again—sharp and unnatural. Mara sat up instantly, hand already reaching for her gun on the nightstand, as if she'd been waiting for it.</p><p><br></p><p>The screen blinked.</p><p>UNKNOWN CALLER.</p><p><br></p><p>She let it ring once.</p><p>Twice.</p><p>On the third ring, she answered.</p><p><br></p><p>“Who is this?” she said, voice hoarse.</p><p><br></p><p>Silence.</p><p><br></p><p>Then, a child’s whisper:</p><p>“You shouldn’t have come here.”</p><p><br></p><p>No static. No background noise. Just those words.</p><p>Then the call ended.</p><p><br></p><p>Mara didn’t sleep the rest of the night.</p><p><br></p><p><br></p><p>---</p><p><br></p><p>By morning, fog still clung to the windows like frost. She sat at her kitchen table with a black notebook—the kind she'd stopped keeping years ago—jotting everything she remembered about the call.</p><p><br></p><p>- Time: 3:03 a.m.</p><p><br></p><p>- Voice: Child, roughly 8–10 years old.</p><p><br></p><p>- Words: “You shouldn’t have come here.”</p><p><br></p><p>- Accent: Slight southern inflection, maybe local.</p><p><br></p><p>Emotion: Not threatening. Not sad. Just... wrong.</p><p><br></p><p><br></p><p>Her hands shook as she closed the notebook. The phone was still in her pocket. Still warm.</p><p><br></p><p>Then the real call came in—from dispatch.</p><p><br></p><p>“You’ll want to see this, Vex.</p><p><br></p><p>Found a body in the belfry of St. Lorna’s.</p><p><br></p><p>He’s... tied up in audio tape. Old cassettes. And one of them has your name on it.”</p><p><br></p><p><br></p><p><br></p><p>---</p><p><br></p><p>Mara grabbed her coat. She didn’t have a theory yet. But she had a feeling.</p><p><br></p><p>Something had been waiting for her in Greybridge.</p><p>And it just said hello.</p><p><br></p><p><br></p><p><br></p>
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