The House That Wanted to Go Back
Lena had always loved the ocean. It was where she felt the freest, the farthest from the life she wanted to leave behind. When she found an old shipping container home perched on the shore, she knew it was meant to be hers.
“It’s been empty for years,” the seller told her. “The last owner… left in a hurry.”
She didn’t care. The house was beautiful—large windows, open-air balconies, the waves just a few steps away. It was a place where she could disappear, start over.
For the first few nights, it was perfect.
Then, the ocean started calling.
Night One: The Footprints
Lena woke to the soft sound of waves lapping against the shore. She rolled over in bed, stretching, then froze.
The floor was wet.
Small puddles of seawater trailed from the doorway to the bed.
She frowned, checking the balcony. The doors were locked. No storm. No rain.
And yet, the footprints remained—leading from the water… up to her room.
Night Three: The Whispering
By the third night, the whispering began.
She was reading on the lower deck when she heard it.
A voice. Soft, distant.
“Lena… come back.”
She looked toward the shore. No one was there. Just the dark waves rolling endlessly under the moonlight.
The wind, she told herself. Just the wind.
Then, the whisper came again.
Closer.
“Lena… it’s time.”
She slammed the doors shut, locking them tight. But the voice didn’t stop.
It was inside now.
Night Five: The Inscription
Determined to prove she wasn’t losing her mind, Lena searched every inch of the house.
And that’s when she saw it.
Inside the upstairs bedroom, beneath peeling layers of blue paint, was something carved into the original metal of the container.
Rusted. Almost unreadable.
“RETURN TO THE SEA.”
As she traced the letters with her fingertips, the house creaked. The floorboards swelled, damp beneath her bare feet.
A slow knock echoed from the deck below.
Not from the front door.
From beneath the house.
Like something—or someone—was trying to come back inside.
