Whispers In The dark

“I’m here. You’re safe.”

Lucas’s arms wrapped around me, firm and protective, as I screamed, beads of sweat starting to form around my temples, slick and cold against my skin. 

“Same dream?” 

“The elevator”, I trembled, still tasting my own screams.

Today story is spicy! But before we continue , let’s say thanks to today’s sponsor:

Chapter 1:

Under the soft glow of the fireplace, a tiny, dark creature skittered with a deliberate slowness along the hearth’s edge, its thin, black legs casting jagged shadows over the glowing, red bricks. I should have screamed, called out for Lucas, or at least tucked my feet up beneath the knitted throw that was draped across my lap. But I didn’t. Instead, I sat, eyes wide and unblinking, transfixed by the tiny creature’s journey. There was a strange tension in the air, a stillness that begged not to be broken.

“Why aren’t you outside?” I whispered, as if the tiny intruder could answer, my voice barely cutting through the crackle of the fire. I thought of the webs draped across the garden hedge this morning, glistening like delicate lace in the pale sunlight. The crispness of autumn had arrived, coating the paths with a mosaic of copper and amber leaves.

“Peppermint tea,” Lucas’s voice, deep and soothing, made me jump. The steam curled up from the cup he held out, the warmth reaching me even before I took it from his hands.

I looked up, and his eyes met mine—those eyes, dark and intense, that saw everything. A smile crept onto my lips, the kind that made my chest feel tight, as if too full of something unnamed. He’d once said he loved my smile, even when it hinted at worry or doubt. I believed him, but a sliver of fear sometimes whispered, This is too perfect. Too fragile.

Pulling my arms free from the throw, I took the cup, savoring the warmth that spread from my palms to my chest. I let out a soft sigh and took a sip, the herbal taste grounding me.

“There’s a spider,” I murmured, casting my eyes back to the hearth. The creature had paused, its tiny body trembling as if caught between choices.

Lucas chuckled, a low, velvety sound that sent a shiver down my spine. “He’ll find his way,” he said, crossing the room in a few strides. With a gentle touch, he scooped up the spider and carried it to the back door. The sharp bite of cold air rushed in as the door creaked open and shut, and the flames in the fireplace seemed to dance in response. I watched Lucas, captivated. He moved with an ease that always made me wonder—was it his artist’s soul that made him see the world so differently, or was it my love that cast him in such a light? Maybe both.

He returned, settling beside me on the floor. He rested his head on my lap, the firelight painting flickering gold across his features.

“You’re my world,” he whispers, looking up at me.

A warmth floods over me. I want to say, You’re mine too, but the words feel almost too intense, too revealing. Still, he’s been that for me, ever since we met amidst the bustling, chaotic world we both left behind.

Images flicker in my memory as I gaze into the fire, the flames projecting scenes like an old film reel. 

There I am, standing by a crowded elevator in the hotel lobby, camera around my neck, itching to capture the rooftop view. I remember the people jostling around me as I hesitated, clutching the camera as if I’d just thought of something else to shoot. And then, suddenly, a voice behind me—gentle but amused.

“Are you afraid of heights?”

I turned to see a tall, slightly awkward young man with the brightest eyes. I wasn’t afraid, so I said no. He offered to ride with me to the top, a friendly gesture. I hesitated, then finally said, “It’s complicated.” He took my arm as if we’d known each other for ages, and we ascended together. And I’m still not sure if my heart raced because of the height—or because of him.

“Come with me,” Lucas says suddenly, pulling me back to the present. He stands and walks toward the door, holding out my old garden boots with a smile. “Let’s go.”

I bundle myself in the blanket, slip on the boots, and follow him outside. The night air meets us, cool and refreshing, while the backyard looks larger and wilder under the moon’s watchful gaze. Clouds roll across the sky, but the moon is slowly breaking through, casting a soft, eerie glow over the hills.

Just then, a rustling sound breaks the silence. Instinctively, I clutch Lucas’s arm.

“Relax,” he says with a soft smile. “It’s just a rabbit.”

“How do you know?” I whispered, but the way his eyes crinkled in the corners made my heart steady.

“Are you afraid?” he asked, voice low and probing.

“Not of rabbits,” I said, though my heart thudded with the weight of unspoken fears.

“They say love drives out fear,” he murmured, leaning in, his breath brushing against my skin, sending a spark through me that left me breathless. Before I could reply, his lips found mine, with a hunger that made the night melt away, leaving only the heat between us, fierce and consuming, as if every touch, every heartbeat, dared us to sink deeper into the fire.

Chapter 2;

“I’m here. You’re safe.”

Lucas’s arms wrapped around me, firm and protective, as I screamed, beads of sweat starting to form around my temples, slick and cold against my skin. 

“Same dream?” 

“The elevator”, I trembled, still tasting my own screams.

 I could still feel the rush of fear from the dark, claustrophobic space that had swallowed me whole, the lights flickering above like taunting stars in a suffocating sky.

The dream — that dream — had clawed its way back, leaving me breathless and shaken. In it, I was trapped in an elevator, shooting past floor after floor, up and up, the walls closing in until there was nothing but a dizzying void.

Lucas’s grip tightened as if he could crush the remnants of my nightmare away, his warmth a shield against the chilling memories that lingered. “It’s just a dream, Alina. You’re safe now. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

I buried my face in his shoulder, inhaling his familiar scent — a mix of sandalwood and something uniquely him. It anchored me, pulling me back from the edge of panic. “But it felt so real...”

“I know,” he whispered, brushing away the hot tears slipping down my cheeks with his gentle fingers. “But remember, it’s not real. Just breathe. Focus on my voice.”

I nodded, struggling to steady my racing heart as I let his words wash over me. In his embrace, I felt a flicker of hope amidst the shadows, a reminder that even in my darkest moments, I didn’t have to face them alone

***

I awoke to the soft patter of rain on the window and the mournful, beautiful notes of Debussy’s “Clair de Lune” drifting through the room. Lucas sat in the armchair, sketchpad on his lap, eyes distant as he watched the storm-gray sky.

“When did you get up?” I asked, my voice raw.

“Just before dawn,” he said, his gaze shifting to meet mine, filled with the kind of tenderness that made my throat close.

This place, timeless and secluded, sometimes felt like a dream itself — no clocks ticking away moments, no deadlines to chase. Just us, suspended between seconds.

“What is this place?” I whispered, more to myself than to him.

“Where you belong,” he said, the intensity of his words pressing against the quiet space between us.

A weak laugh escaped me. “You’re not some dark recluse with a secret, are you?” I tried to joke.

His lips twitched up at the corners. “No. I’m here to remind you what life feels like.”

I leaned forward, letting my head rest on his shoulder. The rain drummed gently, a heartbeat for the silence.

Then, almost too softly to be real, he whispered, “But there’s one thing I haven’t told you yet.”