The first thing I learned about silence was that it could be louder than screaming.
It lived in the hallways after someone shoved me into a locker.
It lingered in the classroom when the teacher pretended not to notice the whispers.
It followed me home, where even the creaking floorboards seemed to pity the girl with snow-white hair and crimson eyes.
I was born with albinism.
To strangers, I was fascinating. To my classmates, I was a target.
"Ghost."
"Vampire."
"Witch."
The names changed every week, but the laughter never did.
I tightened the sleeves of my oversized cardigan around my hands and walked through the rain toward the small house I shared with my grandmother. Clouds had swallowed the afternoon sun, dimming the world enough that my sensitive eyes finally stopped aching.
At least the rain could not stare.
I unlocked the front door.
"I'm home."
No answer. My grandmother would not be back from work until late evening.
The house greeted me with familiar creaks and the scent of old books.
I dropped my schoolbag beside the stairs. A folded piece of paper slipped from one of its pockets.
I unfolded it.
Freak.
One word, written in thick black marker.
I stared at it for a long moment, then crumpled it into a ball and threw it into the fireplace.
I had stopped crying months ago. Maybe longer.
That night, thunder rolled across the sky like distant drums.
The electricity flickered once. Twice. Then settled.
I wandered through the attic, searching for an old blanket my grandmother had mentioned. Dust drifted through the pale light of a single bulb.
Boxes were stacked floor to ceiling. Broken clocks. Picture frames. A rocking chair missing one arm.
Then, tucked in the corner: a wooden box.
Unlike everything else, it was spotless. Its polished surface was carved with twisting vines, crescent moons, and symbols I did not recognize. There was no lock, only a tiny brass latch.
Curiosity won.
Click.
Inside rested a weathered Ouija board. Its letters had been painted in faded silver. The planchette was carved from dark wood, smooth enough to reflect the dim light.
Tucked beneath it was a yellowed note.
Do not ask who waits beyond the board.
I frowned. "Grandma really likes old horror props."
I almost laughed. Almost.
The lights flickered again. This time, they went out.
Darkness swallowed the attic. Only the rain remained.
I clicked on my phone flashlight. The beam landed on the board.
For a split second, I could have sworn the planchette was not where I had left it.
I blinked. It had not moved.
...Right?
A cold draft brushed across the back of my neck. Every hair on my arms stood upright.
Someone whispered.
"...Hello."
I spun around. The attic was empty.
My breathing grew shallow. "It's just the wind."
I picked up the board, intending to put it back into its box.
The wooden planchette slid across the board on its own.
One slow letter. Then another.
H.
I.
I froze. "No..."
My flashlight flickered. The attic fell silent.
Then the board spelled one final word.
PHOEBE.
I had not told it my name.14Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1ygWMMVulW
and then Add to home screen.