Whispers of the Unseen The boy began telling his story. "When I was four years old, I realized I could see ghosts. At first, I thought everyone could, but over time, I learned the truth. I could tell who was real and who wasn't, but the other children in the orphanage didn't understand. They avoided me, called me strange. No one wanted to play with me."
The orphanage had always felt heavy, like the walls held memories too dark to be forgotten. The cold stone corridors whispered at night, carrying voices no one else could hear. But Alex did. He always did.
The children avoided him. The nuns looked at him with quiet suspicion. He had long accepted his loneliness—until Alice arrived.
She came on an autumn morning, her soft voice and warm presence unlike anything Alex had known before. Unlike the others, she didn't ignore him. She didn't whisper about him behind his back. She noticed him.
And that made all the difference.
One evening, as the sun bled across the sky, Alex sat beneath the old oak tree in the courtyard. The whispers had returned, soft and sorrowful.
"Alex… Alex…"
He turned slightly, eyes locking on the familiar figure standing in the shadows. A little girl with hollow eyes and a tattered white dress.
"Mary."
She lingered near him, as she always did, but tonight she was different. She seemed… afraid.
"The man in the black coat is coming," she whispered.
Alex frowned. She had said those words before, but no one had ever come.
"Alice," he murmured, glancing toward the chapel, searching for the only person who might listen.
"Alex?" Her voice came before he saw her. Alice stood at the edge of the courtyard, watching him with concern. "Who are you talking to?"
He hesitated. He had never spoken about the ghosts with anyone before.
She stepped closer, kneeling beside him. "Can I join you?"
He swallowed. "You can't see her."
Alice's gaze didn't waver. "Her?"
He glanced at Mary, who clung to the tree like a frightened child.
"Her name is Mary," Alex said softly. "She's five years old. Her mother… killed her."
Alice's breath caught, but she didn't recoil. She didn't call him a liar. She simply looked at the space beside him and whispered, "Is she your friend?"
For the first time, Alex nodded.
Alice smiled, not in pity, but in understanding. "Then tell her she's not alone."
Tears burned at the corners of Alex's eyes. No one had ever said that before.
That night, something shifted. Alice spent more time with him, reading stories, drawing pictures, listening to the whispers only he could hear. She was patient, gentle—like a mother he never had.
And she gave him something precious.
A name.
"Alex."
Not boy. Not cursed. Just Alex.
For the first time, he felt like he belonged.
But happiness never lasted long in the orphanage.
One night, Alex awoke gasping, his body trembling from a nightmare. He saw the church engulfed in flames, the sound of screaming filling the air.
The same dream. Over and over.
But this time, when he woke up, the screams didn't stop.
They were real.
His breath hitched as he slipped out of bed and crept toward the chapel, the cold floor chilling his bare feet.
A sharp gust of wind howled through the hallways, rattling the windows. The dormitory door creaked open on its own.
Alex hesitated. Then he heard it.
Footsteps. Slow. Deliberate.
The man in the black coat.
He turned toward the corridor, and there, standing in the doorway, was a tall figure cloaked in darkness. His presence was suffocating, like the very air recoiled from him.
Alex couldn't move.
The man took a step forward, and though his face was hidden, Alex felt his gaze settle on him.
"You don't belong here," the man rumbled.
A scream tore through the silence—from outside.
Alex's legs moved before his mind could catch up. He ran. Ran toward the chapel, toward Alice.
The cemetery loomed ahead, and in the moonlight, he saw it.
A monstrous figure crouched over the graves, its twisted form shifting between smoke and flesh. Eyes like burning embers turned toward him, and a jagged grin split the darkness.
It reached out.
Alex tried to run.
But a clawed hand caught his wrist.
"You don't smell human," the devil hissed, its voice a guttural growl. It inhaled deeply, savoring the scent. "You smell… like a demon."
Alex's body went rigid.
A demon?
No. That wasn't possible.
The devil's grin widened. "A demon inside a church?" It laughed, a terrible, bone-chilling sound. "How amusing."
Alex struggled, panic surging in his chest.
Then—
"Let him go!"
Alice's voice cut through the darkness like a blade.
The devil's gaze snapped up.
Alice stood in the chapel doorway, her eyes fierce, a rosary clenched in her hands.
"Leave him alone," she commanded.
The devil sneered. "Ah… Sister Alice. You see them too, don't you?"
Alex's heart pounded. The devil knew her.
Alice stepped forward. "In the name of God, I command you—release him."
The air crackled with energy. The devil's grip loosened, just enough for Alex to yank free. He stumbled backward, racing toward Alice.
The devil didn't pursue. It only laughed.
"We'll meet again, little one," it murmured. "Soon."
Then, with a gust of wind, it vanished into the night.
Alex collapsed into Alice's arms, his body shaking.
She held him tightly, whispering words of comfort. "You're safe now, Alex."
But deep inside, he knew the truth.
He wasn't safe.
And he wasn't human.