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From The Archives: F/41923/SM

Other noises surfaced between the static, sometimes soft, sometimes louder. He tried to concentrate on possible words, but his mind refused. Twice he rewound the tape to listen again, but to no avail. All he heard were inarticulate sighs and whispers. Sometimes his filters hadn’t removed his own groans and snores, but these whispers were different. More frantic, going on and on.

Second cassette; same noise. Same whispers.

‘…me…’

Martin sat bolt upright. Did he just—?

‘…look…for me…’

Unmistakably a woman speaking. He could only make out snatches of words, but the voice rose.

‘…why…you looking…? …why are you looking… me?’

He extended a hand to rewind and confirm what he feared he had heard, but he didn’t dare to.

‘Why are you looking for me?’

This time the words burst from the speakers, clear as day. Martin tensed.

More static, then: ‘Why are you looking for me?’

She was displeased. Even the static sounded put out.

‘Why are you looking for me!’

All-out anger. His breath stuck in his throat.

‘Why are you looking for me!’

Her shrill scream drew out to a screech that echoed against the wall of his tiny ‘suite’. Years of hearing such cries kept him from stopping the cassette. He let it run, but he hid his face in his hands as the noise continued. More white noise, more whispers, until after an eternity, the tape on the cassette ran out and the boom box stopped by itself.

From The Kalbrandt Institute Archives – Book I: Hauntings

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