Mark and Sarah had been married for five years when they decided to spend a weekend at Sarah’s family’s old farmhouse, nestled deep in the woods.

The house was charming but had an air of neglect, with creaking floorboards and dust-covered furniture. It had been years since anyone had stayed there, and they figured it was the perfect getaway.

The first night, they settled in, lighting a fire and reminiscing about their early days together. As the sun dipped below the horizon, shadows danced across the walls. They laughed, feeling the warmth of the fire and each other’s company. But as midnight approached, Sarah began to feel uneasy.

“Mark, do you hear that?” she asked, her brow furrowing.

“Hear what?” he replied, glancing up from his phone.

“It sounds like someone is whispering,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

He shrugged, dismissing her concern. “It’s just the wind. This place is old; it creaks.”

But as the hours passed, Sarah couldn’t shake the feeling that they were not alone. She decided to take a walk outside to clear her head. The moon hung high, casting a silvery glow on the trees. Mark, still inside, thought it would be a quick walk.

As she wandered the property, she felt a chill creep down her spine. The whispers grew louder, wrapping around her like a shroud. “Sarah…” a voice called softly, echoing through the trees. She spun around, her heart racing. “Mark?” she called out, but there was no answer.

Feeling uneasy, she hurried back to the house. When she entered, Mark was sitting on the couch, staring blankly at the flickering fire. “What took you so long?” he asked, his voice distant.

“I just stepped outside for a moment,” she replied, her heart still pounding. “Didn’t you hear me calling?”

He shook his head, eyes glazed over. “I didn’t hear anything.”

Sarah felt a knot form in her stomach, but she brushed it off. “Let’s just go to bed,” she suggested.

As they climbed into bed, Sarah couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. The whispers returned, barely audible but persistent. She lay there, her heart racing, trying to sleep.

In the middle of the night, she jolted awake to find Mark sitting up, staring at the wall. “Mark, what are you doing?” she asked, her voice trembling.

“I’m listening,” he said, almost in a trance. “Can’t you hear them?”

Panic surged through her. “Mark, stop it! You’re scaring me.”

He turned to her, his eyes dark and hollow. “They want to talk.”

“Who wants to talk?” she demanded, her voice rising.

“The ones who were here before us,” he whispered. “They’re angry.”

Terrified, Sarah grabbed his arm. “You’re not making any sense! Come back to bed!”

Mark blinked, as if awakening from a dream. “What happened?” he asked, confused.

“Just come back to bed!” she insisted, her heart racing.

The next day, they decided to explore the nearby woods, hoping to shake off the eerie feeling that had settled over them. As they walked, Sarah couldn’t shake the sense of being watched. The trees felt alive, the shadows shifting in the corners of her vision.

Suddenly, they stumbled upon an old graveyard, overgrown with weeds. Crumbling headstones jutted out from the earth, and a chilling wind swept through, rustling the leaves.

“Mark, we shouldn’t be here,” Sarah said, unease creeping in again.

But he seemed drawn to one particular gravestone. “Look at this one,” he said, kneeling. “It’s dated over a hundred years ago.”

As Sarah read the name inscribed, a cold shiver ran down her spine. It was the same name she’d heard whispered the night before. “We need to go,” she urged.

Back at the farmhouse, Sarah tried to shake off the feeling of dread. As night fell, the whispers returned, more insistent this time. “Sarah… Mark…”

She turned to him, panic rising. “Did you hear that?”

He looked at her, confusion etched on his face. “Hear what?”

Before she could respond, the lights flickered and went out. The house plunged into darkness. Mark reached for his phone to use the flashlight, but it flickered and died, leaving them in pitch black.

“Mark, I’m scared,” she admitted, her voice trembling.

Then, the whispers grew louder, echoing in the dark. “Get out… get out…”

Mark grabbed her hand, pulling her close. “We need to leave. Now!”

As they made their way to the front door, it slammed shut in front of them. They turned to find the shadows in the room shifting, coalescing into dark shapes that swirled around them.

“Who are you? What do you want?” Sarah screamed, her voice filled with terror.

The shadows advanced, and Mark shielded her with his body. “We mean no harm!” he shouted.

But the whispers grew louder, almost deafening. “Leave this place!”

In a moment of clarity, Sarah realized they were trapped in a house filled with restless spirits, tied to the land they had unwittingly disturbed. She pulled Mark toward a window, desperately trying to open it.

Finally, with one last push, the window shattered open. They scrambled through, falling onto the grass outside. Gasping for breath, they looked back at the farmhouse, which now stood silent, the whispers fading into the night.

“We need to get as far away as possible,” Mark said, pulling her to her feet.

As they drove away, Sarah glanced back at the farmhouse one last time. A shadow lingered in the window, watching them leave, a warning that they might never escape the past that haunted that place.