Everyone in Machias, Maine, knew the old Whitmore House. Locals called it Deadman's End. Hidden behind a forest of pine and cedar, it hadn’t had a living resident since 1979, when the entire Whitmore family vanished without a trace. There were no bodies. No signs of forced entry. Only one thing left behind: the sound.
That sound still echoed from the basement.
Chapter One: The Dare
It was July 2018 when three college friends—Josh, Lenny, and Claire—rented a cabin in Maine for a weeklong hiking trip. Josh had grown up hearing whispers about the Whitmore House. He told the stories late at night, half-laughing, half-waiting for someone to tell him to stop.
On their last night, after a few drinks around the fire, the dare came up: spend five minutes inside the Whitmore basement. Josh accepted. Claire insisted she come too. Lenny, the most skeptical of the three, agreed but brought his GoPro.
They arrived at 2:12 a.m. The house was exactly as described—peeling white paint, rotting shutters, and a wraparound porch covered in leaves. The door wasn’t locked. It never was.
Chapter Two: The Descent
The floor creaked under their boots. A mildew smell clung to everything. They passed dusty furniture, overturned chairs, framed photographs with faces that had faded away. Then they found the basement door.
Josh held the flashlight. Lenny clipped the GoPro to his chest. Claire hesitated but followed.
The staircase groaned as they descended. The air was colder. Thick. The moment they reached the bottom, the door slammed shut behind them.
Then they heard it: whispering. Dozens of voices, overlapping in waves—some begging, some laughing, some speaking a language none of them recognized.
Claire turned back toward the stairs. They were gone.
Chapter Three: No Way Out
Where the stairs had been was now a wall. Cracked concrete, weeping moisture. Josh pounded on it, screaming. The voices rose in pitch.
Lenny checked the GoPro’s feed. Static.
Claire felt something brush her shoulder. Cold fingers. She spun—no one was there. The flashlight flickered. Then died.
They were swallowed in darkness.
Somehow, dim blue light glowed from under the far wall. They followed it.
Chapter Four: The Room
They entered a small, circular room—no doors, no windows. In the center stood a rusted metal chair. Straps hung loose at its sides. The voices were louder here, almost chanting. Josh stepped forward. His nose bled instantly.
Claire tried to pull him back, but he didn’t move.
His eyes were wide, glassy. His mouth moved, but no sound came out. Then he spoke—not in his voice, but in someone else’s. Older. Deeper. Foreign.
"You found her."
Lenny pulled Claire away. The room began to spin. The walls bled. The floor cracked. A hand burst through the wall, clawing at Lenny’s leg.
Claire screamed. Everything went black.
Chapter Five: The Return
Claire woke up outside. Alone. It was morning. Her clothes were soaked with dew. Her phone was dead. Josh and Lenny were gone.
She called the police. The site was searched for days. No sign of either of them. The house? Gone.
Literally.
Where the Whitmore House had stood was now just a clearing—flat, untouched earth. No foundation. No debris. The basement entrance? Nonexistent.
She showed the footage from Lenny’s GoPro. It stopped recording the moment they opened the basement door. Nothing after. Not even static.
They called it trauma. Labeled it as a breakdown. She left Maine and never returned.
Chapter Six: The Tapes
Two years later, Claire received a package. No return address. Inside: a VHS tape. On it was footage—black and white, grainy—from what looked like 1979. It showed the Whitmore basement. The same room. Same chair.
Then it showed Josh. And Lenny.
Strapped to the chair.
Their eyes open. Their mouths moving.
Whispers filled the audio.
In the corner of the frame stood Claire.
But she was seven years old in 1979.
Or at least, she thought she was.
