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in a world of her own, a world of articles, investigations, and the search for truth in places where others saw only forgotten pages of the past. She often stayed up late, poring over archived documents, studying old newspaper clippings, trying to piece together connections between events separated by decades. Some acquaintances thought she was obsessed, but she didn’t care. She knew that even the smallest discovery could lead to something truly significant.

      So, when a message popped up on her phone from a contact at the town archive, she immediately took notice.

      “The police brought in some strange tapes from an old house. Might be something you’d be interested in,” the message read.

      Selena paused, rereading the text. She knew that house on Park Street well. Many years ago, several cases of disappearances had been officially recorded in Lachmorne – people who had lived in that very house. Multiple official investigations yielded no results: no signs of forced entry or struggle, no bodies: the residents had simply vanished. All of their belongings, including valuables, were left untouched. There were no witnesses, no motives, no evidence.

      Then, about twenty years ago, the homeowners – an elderly couple, Marvin and Lillian Hessler – disappeared. It happened right after yet another disappearance, and their vanishing became the final stroke in a long string of mysterious events. Once again, the investigation led nowhere: the people were never found, and no charges were ever filed.

      Since then, the house had stood empty. It wasn’t sold, nor was it renovated – only locked up, like a grave no one dared disturb. And now, just as the local authorities had finally decided to demolish it, something connected to the past had been discovered there?

      The journalist quickly dialed Viktor – the head of the town archive. As the dial tone buzzed in her ear, Selena thought rapidly: maybe it was just another urban legend… but her instincts told her there was more to this story.

      “Are you serious? What tapes? What’s on them?” she asked as soon as she heard Viktor’s voice.

      “Don’t know yet,” he replied. “The box arrived a few hours ago, but no one’s really investigated it. They said it was found at a demolition site. I figured it was just junk, but then I heard a rumor – police say the workers played one of the tapes… and there was a voice. Someone calling for help. I listened to one myself and, well…” He paused. “You’d better come hear it for yourself.”

      Selena gripped her phone tighter, feeling a rush of excitement mixed with unease. She didn’t believe in the supernatural, but she knew that every strange tale had a real story behind it – just buried or overlooked. Maybe this was someone’s twisted prank, a recording glitch… or a real cry for help from someone long forgotten.

      She licked her lips and grabbed her notebook from the desk. A plan was already forming in her head: meet with the archivist, examine the tapes, talk to the people who found them. She couldn’t ignore this.

      “You at the archive now?” she asked.

      “Yeah. So, hurry up.”

      Twenty minutes later, Selena stepped into the old town library. Tall shelves cast long shadows across the floor. The archive was housed in a far wing of the building, where dim lighting barely chased away the gloom. Rows of metal cabinets filled with yellowing index cards and stacks of worn folders made the place feel like time had stopped. The air carried the scent of paper, dust, and dried ink, while somewhere in the back, a wall clock ticked quietly.

      In one of the silent archive offices, Viktor was waiting – a man in his mid-forties, with slouched shoulders, a round face, and thick glasses that constantly slipped down his nose. His movements were slow, his voice slightly weary. He’d grown used to the monotony of his work and expected nothing remarkable from it anymore.

      On the desk in front of him sat the box – weathered by time. Inside were tapes, yellowed documents, and something else that immediately caught Selena’s eye: an old cassette player, clearly from the last century. A scratch ran across the tape slot, and the cord was slightly twisted.

      She sat across from him, ran her fingers over the lid of the box, and looked at the archivist.

      “Let’s see what we’ve got here,” she said quietly, sensing that this discovery might be the beginning of something far bigger than just another article.

      Viktor leaned back in his creaky chair, folded his arms, and looked at Selena over his glasses.

      “There are voices on the tapes,” he said softly, as if worried someone might be listening outside the walls. “No one knows who they belong to.”

      Selena frowned. Unknown voices recorded in an abandoned house with a history of disappearances… This smelled like a real mystery – one not yet solved – and the anticipation tightened something inside her.

      “And you heard them yourself?” she asked in a low voice, studying his expression.

      Instead of answering, Viktor silently reached into the box, pulled out one of the cassettes, and turned it over in his hands. The tape was old, dark, the edges slightly warped with age. He hesitated, as though weighing whether to play it at all – but then he inserted it into the cassette player.

      “I said just one,” he admitted reluctantly as he pressed the play button. “Last night. And honestly… I still regret it.”

      The player gave a quiet whirr, the tape began to spin, and the room filled with hissing – steady and cold, like a radio tuned to emptiness.

      Selena froze in her chair, tense with expectation.

      The old tape deck hissed for a while longer, and then…

      A shaky, uneven voice cut through the silence, as if tearing an invisible veil between the past and present. A man’s voice, speaking in broken phrases, his breathing ragged and gasping – like he’d been running, or was barely holding back a rising panic.

      “They’re keeping me here…” the voice rasped from the speaker. It was hoarse, broken. “There are no doors… I… I can’t get out…”