FADING ECHOES
FADING ECHOES
It was the day after the funeral, and she sat alone in the empty house. The silence was deafening, punctuated only by the occasional creak of the floorboards. She could still feel the echoes of the laughter and love that had once filled this space. But now, it was as if the very walls were whispering her name, calling out to her in a voice that was both familiar and strange.
She remembered the days when the house had been a place of warmth and light, when she had walked through the rooms with a spring in her step. But now, the rooms seemed to echo with a different kind of sound, a dull and distant whisper that chilled her to the bone. She tried to ignore it, tried to focus on the memories of happiness that had once been so bright and clear. But the whispers only grew louder, until they seemed to fill the entire house.
The clock on the wall ticked away, each second seeming to last an eternity. She knew she should get up, get out of the house. But she couldn't bring herself to move. She felt as if she were caught in a dream, a waking nightmare from which she could not escape. As she sat, frozen in place, the whispers turned to voices, whispering words that she could not understand.
And then, from somewhere deep within the house, she heard a sound that made her blood run cold. A low, rumbling laugh, so deep and dark that it seemed to come from the very earth itself. She knew then that she was not alone in the house. Something else was here, something that had been here all along, hidden in the shadows, waiting for her to be alone. The voices grew louder, and the laughter grew deeper. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, her breath coming in short gasps. She wanted to run, to escape from the terror that seemed to be closing in around her. But she could not move, frozen in place by a fear that was both primal and inexplicable. It was as if something was holding her there, a force that was both physical and mental, keeping her rooted to the spot. The shadows in the corners of the room seemed to be moving, shifting and dancing in the dim light. And then, from out of the darkness, a figure began to emerge.
Slowly, it stepped into the light, revealing itself to be a man, or something that looked like a man. But his features were somehow blurred, as if he were not quite visible.
The figure's features were a blur, but there was something about his eyes that made her feel as if he were staring straight into her soul. A cold sweat broke out on her brow, and she felt a sense of dread building inside her. And then, in a voice that seemed to come from the depths of the earth, he spoke.
"Do you know why you are here?" he asked, his voice rumbling like thunder. "Do you know what you have done?"
She wanted to speak, to say something, anything, to break the spell that seemed to have been cast over her. But the words would not come, as if her tongue had been turned to stone. All she could do was stare at the figure, her heart pounding in her chest, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps.
And then, as if reading her mind, the figure spoke again. "You have been judged, and found wanting. Your deeds have been weighed, and you have been found wanting. "You have failed," the figure repeated, "and now you must face the consequences of your actions. You must pay the price for what you have done."
She felt a surge of panic rising within her, a sense of desperation that threatened to overwhelm her. "Please," she whispered, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt anyone."
But the figure merely shook his head, a look of cold indifference on his face. "Your apologies are of no use here. You have been found wanting, and the judgement is final."
The figure's features began to blur, until he was no more than a shadow, a dark smudge against the light. "Farewell," he said, his voice fading away into the distance. "Farewell, and know that you have been judged."
And then, he was gone. The light returned to the room, and she found herself standing alone, the only sound the beating of her own heart. And all around her, she could hear the echo of his final words, a haunting words that echoes continuously.
©® Coker Favour A.
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