"Silence Upstairs"

 

The Fifth Knock

The storm howled like a hungry beast outside Zane Faulkner’s apartment. Rain slammed against the windows in angry bursts, thunder cracked the sky open every few minutes, and lightning painted the dark city in stuttering flashes of white.

Inside, the contrast was almost comical.

Eli sat cross-legged on the couch, shoveling peanuts into his mouth like a squirrel facing winter, eyes wide as a bloodied woman on screen screamed her lungs out.
“Don’t go upstairs, you idiot!” he yelled at the TV. “That’s literally horror movie rule number one!”

Zane didn’t even look up from the thick, dusty book in his hands. The lamplight above him glowed warmly, casting a golden halo over the pages.
“You do realize,” he said calmly, “she can’t hear you.”

Eli threw a peanut shell at him. “Neither can you, Sherlock. This guy’s got a knife the size of my leg and she’s going into the attic!”

Zane flipped a page, unbothered. “Attics. Always attics. You’d think by now horror characters would start hiding in libraries.”

Before Eli could retort, Zane’s phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen and frowned slightly.
“Police station. Inspector Garvey.”

“That’s the guy with the weird mustache and zero sense of humor, right?” Eli asked, muting the TV. “He only calls when things go full Twilight Zone.”

Zane answered with his usual calm tone. “Faulkner.”
A pause. Then his eyebrows lifted slightly.
“...Upstairs? And how long has that been happening?”
Another pause.
“No, Inspector, walls don’t whisper. People do. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

He stood up, reaching for his coat.
Eli narrowed his eyes. “What kind of case?”
Zane looked at him, half-smiling. “The impossible kind.”

Police Station – 11:42 PM

Inspector Garvey looked worse than usual. He paced near his desk like a man who had seen something he couldn’t explain — which for Garvey, was saying a lot.

Zane entered, rain still clinging to his coat, Eli right behind him, clutching an umbrella like a sword.

“Faulkner,” Garvey said with a sigh of relief. “I need your eyes on this. It’s... strange.”
“You said something about whispering upstairs,” Zane replied. “That's vague even by your standards.”

Garvey pointed to a file on his desk. “Three different complaints from tenants in the same apartment building. All on the same floor. All claiming they hear whispers at night. Upstairs. But here’s the catch—”
He opened the file and tapped the building's layout.
“There is no upstairs. That floor is the top floor. Above them is nothing but roof.”

Eli gave a low whistle. “Okay, that’s... definitely creepy.”

Zane scanned the reports.
“All around 3:07 AM. All claim to hear different words. And all describe hearing... five knocks before the whispers start.”

Garvey nodded grimly. “Exactly five. Then silence. Then the voices.”

Zane looked up. “Anyone seen anything?”
“One woman claims she saw a shadow moving across her ceiling. Another said her furniture shifted slightly by itself. No forced entry. No signs of tampering. Nothing on the building’s security feed either.”

Zane closed the file slowly.
“All right. Let’s visit the scene.”

Marlowe Apartments – 12:30 AM

The building was old. Not ‘historic’ old — more like ‘forgotten by time’ old. The hallway lights flickered like they were gasping for retirement. Water stains marked the ceiling. The air smelled faintly of mildew and old wood.

A middle-aged woman, clearly sleep-deprived, met them at the door of apartment 3B.
“I’m not crazy,” she said before anyone asked. “I know what I heard. The knocks were loud — five of them — and then the whispering started above my head.”

Zane walked inside, eyes moving like radar.
“Did you try recording it?”

“I did,” she said, pulling out her phone. “Listen.”

She hit play. The audio was mostly quiet... and then, faintly, five sharp knocks echoed.
One... two... three... four... five.
Then silence. Then — a low, garbled whisper.

Eli flinched. “What the hell did that say?”

Zane replayed it. His brow furrowed. “The whisper changes pitch — as if it's trying different frequencies... like tuning a signal.”

They visited two more tenants. Same story. Same knocks. Slightly different whispers. No explanation. No source.
And no upstairs.

“I want to see the roof,” Zane said.

Building Rooftop – 1:12 AM

The roof was slick with rain and wind, but empty. No signs of activity. No footprints. No access panels disturbed.
Except — something caught Zane’s eye.

He knelt near an old ventilation shaft. “Eli, light.”

Eli shone his phone torch. Inside the rusted vent, there was a bundle of cloth tied around something metallic.

Zane reached in and pulled it out — a small metal bell, old and tarnished, with strange symbols carved along the rim.

“What the hell is that?” Eli whispered.

Zane didn’t answer right away. He was staring at the symbols. “This isn’t just decoration. These are sigils — protection symbols. Someone tried to bind something... or keep it from escaping.”

Garvey looked uneasy. “You think someone summoned something?”

Zane stood. “I think someone trapped something. And now the trap is breaking.”

Suddenly, the wind blew fiercely — the bell rattled violently in Zane’s hand, even though he wasn’t moving.

Everyone froze.

Then — five loud knocks echoed from the rooftop door behind them.
They all turned at once.

No one was there.

2:00 AM – Temporary Police Setup in Apartment 3C

Zane sat at a table covered with photos, blueprints, audio waveforms. He drew a rough diagram:

Knocks at same time

Whispers follow knock

Each audio slightly different

Bell found in vent above central apartment

No intruder evidence

Residents suffering from sleep disruption, paranoia

Eli leaned over his shoulder. “Okay, smart guy. What does it mean?”

Before Zane could reply, the door knocked five times.

Everyone froze.

Zane stood slowly and opened it.

Lyra Blake stepped in, soaked from rain but looking infuriatingly calm — and stunning, even at 2 AM.
“Took you long enough to call,” she said, brushing water off her coat. “This better not be another sewer chase like last time.”

Zane smiled. “This time, it’s voices from nowhere and ghosts in vents. I thought of you immediately.”

Lyra rolled her eyes. “Of course you did.”
Eli, grinning, handed her a coffee. “Welcome to the funhouse.”

2:40 AM – Exploring the Basement

“There’s always a basement,” Zane murmured, holding a flashlight.

The three of them descended the creaky steps. The air turned colder. More silent.

At the far end of the basement, they found something odd: a boarded-up room, nailed shut crudely with warning signs in faded ink.

Zane touched the wood.
“These planks were nailed inwards — from the inside.”

Eli backed away. “Nope. Nope nope nope.”

Zane pried the boards off. The door creaked open. Inside was a narrow room — empty except for a mirror, covered in a thick black cloth.

Zane uncovered it.

The glass was cracked, but something shimmered faintly within — not their reflections, but shapes moving behind the glass.

Zane stared. “This isn’t a mirror. It’s a containment surface.”

“Containment for what?” Lyra asked softly.

The mirror knocked — five times.

Eli dropped his coffee.

The Thing Behind the Silence

The mirror didn’t reflect them. Not completely.
Zane, Lyra, and Eli stood still, staring into it — but their faces were slightly… off. Slightly late.

As if the mirror was thinking before showing them.

Then it happened again.

Five slow knocks.
Right from within the mirror.

Lyra stepped back instinctively. “Tell me I’m not imagining that.”

Eli whispered, “Tell me we aren’t cursed.”

Zane moved closer, analyzing the edges of the frame. The carved wood was burned at the bottom — like it had once caught fire.
On the back of the mirror, he found a seal — identical to the symbols on the bell from the roof.

“Same sigils,” he muttered. “This was sealed. Someone wanted this thing locked away for good.”

Lyra leaned over. “But if the bell was part of the containment... and it's been dislodged...”

Zane finished her thought. “Then whatever’s inside is leaking out.”

Eli nearly jumped out of his skin when the mirror cracked slightly at the corner — with no touch.
“Okay!” he blurted. “Great! Mirror ghosts, rooftop whispers, cursed bells. Just need a demon cat and we’re done.”

Zane turned to Lyra. “We need to find who lived in this building before. Someone who knew what this mirror was.”

3:20 AM – Back in Apartment 3C

Zane and Lyra pored over the building's old blueprints and ownership records while Eli sat with headphones on, replaying the audio recordings frame by frame.

“Here,” Lyra said, tapping a record. “This building was owned by one family for decades — the Haydens. The last surviving member, Alice Hayden, went missing twenty years ago.”

Zane leaned in. “Missing? Not deceased?”

“No body ever found. She lived on the top floor.”

Zane looked at the files. “And according to this, that exact apartment — her old place — is the one where the bell was found above.”

Eli suddenly shouted, “Guys! I slowed the audio down. Listen!”

He played the whisper again — but now, stretched and filtered.

“He… still… lives… upstairs…”

Lyra’s voice was almost a whisper. “Who is ‘he’?”

Zane was already reaching for his coat. “Let’s find out.”

3:45 AM – Top Floor, Alice Hayden’s Former Apartment

The apartment was abandoned. Dust lined the windows. The air was dry and stale. But the moment they entered, they felt it.
That heavy silence.

Zane stood still, listening.
Not to noise — but to the lack of it.

“It’s too quiet,” he said. “Even in this storm.”

The closet door creaked slightly — unprompted.

They all turned.

Inside the closet was a wooden trapdoor in the ceiling — hidden beneath an old clothes rack.

Eli groaned. “Please don’t say what I think you’re about to say.”

Zane looked up, deadpan. “We’re going upstairs.”

4:00 AM – The Hidden Room Above

The trapdoor opened into a narrow, hidden attic space — just tall enough to crawl. The air was freezing.

And in the center of the small space, surrounded by chalk symbols, was a chair.
And in the chair…

A skeleton, seated upright, hands folded in its lap.

A small nameplate hung from the chair:
“He Listens.”

Zane crouched beside it. “Human remains. At least two decades old.”

Lyra stepped back. “Could that be… Alice Hayden?”

“No,” Zane said. “Skull’s male. Adult. Probably mid-thirties.”

Next to the skeleton was a book, half-burned but legible. It was a journal.
Zane flipped through the brittle pages.

“I hear him when I sleep. He whispers things no man should know. But the mirror only reflects what we fear.”
“I tried sealing it. I used the bell, the mirror, the sigils. It’s not enough.”
“If you find this... leave. He lives upstairs.”

The last entry was smudged with something dark. Blood or ink — they couldn’t tell.

Eli’s voice shook. “So... this guy was trying to trap some kind of... entity? Using mirrors and bells and whatever dark arts nonsense this is?”

Zane stood slowly. “He didn’t succeed. He contained it. Barely. And now that containment is failing.”

Just then — from below them — they heard it again.

Five knocks.

From inside the apartment they’d just come through.

But… they were all upstairs. No one was below.

Zane turned to Lyra. “Run.”

4:15 AM – Rushing Downstairs

The three of them climbed down quickly — only to find the apartment dark, and the mirror... missing its cloth.

It reflected the room again. But this time, in the mirror’s image — the chair was empty.

No skeleton.

Just a shadow.

Standing still.

Not moving.
Not blinking.

Watching.

Zane stepped in front of the mirror. The shadow moved slightly. Not like a reflection. Like an independent being.

Then it raised its hand — and knocked.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

Zane reached into his coat and pulled out the bell. “Lyra. The symbols. Help me draw the seal again.”

They scrambled, chalk and salt from evidence bags spread into a new containment circle. The moment Zane rang the bell — the shadow shrieked.

Not a human sound.

Something deeper. Old. Bitter.

The mirror shattered.

4:45 AM – Outside Marlowe Apartments

The storm had passed. A soft drizzle remained, painting the city in grey-blue light.

Zane, Lyra, and Eli stood by the car, soaked, silent.

Eli broke it. “So... we contained it? Sealed it again?”

Zane stared at the broken bell in his hand. “No. We didn’t seal it. We forced it back.”

Lyra looked up at the building’s top floor window — where a faint tap-tap-tap-tap-tap echoed, almost too soft to hear.

She turned to Zane. “There’s still one thing I don’t get.”

Zane looked at her without blinking. “Only one?”

Lyra ignored his smirk. “The skeleton. The man upstairs. Who was he trying to trap? Who was ‘he’?”

Zane’s face turned cold.

“He wasn’t trying to trap anything,” he said.
“He was trying to trap himself.”

Eli and Lyra froze.

The drizzle fell. The air grew colder. And upstairs — the silence knocked again.

Fade out.