The killer was under my bed the whole time…

When I was 12 years old, my family and I went camping in rural Australia. We stayed at a rental farmhouse which people could hire out for a period of time for a holiday for city-slickers.

We were submersed in the West Australian bushland and set up traps for marons, which are like small lobsters in the river that ran through the property, although it was a really windy location, especially at night.
On the last night of our stay, I had just gone to my bed, which was a bunk bed. Some time later, my brother came into the room and got into the bottom bunk.
A little while later, I started to hear whispering. The voices sounded deep and raspy, plus it couldn’t be my brother as he was 3 and couldn’t whisper. I could hear the wind blowing strongly outside, so wrote it off as my mind playing tricks on me.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t seem to ignore them. The whispering continued and what I imagined the words were, made me uneasy to say the least. The whispers sounded a lot like “kill him” “just take the knife and kill him by the trees”, repeated over and over.
I lay paralysed in my bed and closed my eyes, trying to block it out. I said a little prayer under my breath wishing that the wind stopped so I could sleep. The whispers stopped but the wind kept blowing.
The next morning when I woke up, I joined my brother at the table for breakfast. We sat down and ate cereal together and asked him if he heard any whispering last night. He told me that he didn’t sleep in our room last night.
I asked him what he meant. He told me that he slept in mum and dad’s room, because when he came to bed, there was a man in his bunk, so he went back to mum and dad’s bed. My heart sank.
I wasn’t sure at the time if my brother was making up a story or not, bu thankfully it was our day there and we were leaving in the afternoon.
12 years later, my mum and I were talking about the farmhouse because I wanted to know where it was, as I couldn’t remember the town name anymore. She told me it, then told me that the residents after us had found a man hiding in the farm house with them, and he kidnapped and murdered their son down on the property.
I now know what I heard wasn’t my imagination. The whispering was real was as real as this man whispering them under my bunk.

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