Clarissa

169 Jennifer Way A tragedy. A beautiful old house. A price so unbelievably low that you almost feel guilty taking advantage of it. Seven years ago, Clarissa was supposed to get married. Her wedding dress was beautiful. The flowers were arranged, the guests had arrived, and everyone was waiting for the bride. But Clarissa never made it down the aisle. She disappeared. No witnesses. No ransom demands. No body. No explanation. One moment she was there, the next she was gone. Despite an extensive investigation, she was never found. Eventually, the case went cold, and the world moved on. Her fiancé eventually left town. Her family stopped giving interviews. Clarissa became another unsolved tragedy. And now, you’re living in her former home. At first, the strange noises are easy to dismiss. Old plumbing. Settling walls. The occasional creak of an aging house. But then you hear it. Tap. Tap. Tap. Three little knocks. They’re coming from inside the walls. Sometimes they’re in the bedroom. Sometimes the hallway. Occasionally, they follow you from room to room, always coming from just behind the plaster. You try ignoring them. You try investigating them. Eventually, you even hire someone to inspect the walls. Nothing. Until one night, you hear something different. A woman’s fingernails scratching against the other side. Then a whisper. “Hello?” You freeze. Another three knocks. Tap. Tap. Tap. And then a voice, faint and desperate. “Please… let me out.” Clarissa is still here. Seven years later, she’s still wearing her wedding dress. Still waiting. Still trapped somewhere inside the walls of 169 Jennifer Way. Nobody knows what happened to her on her wedding day. But perhaps the house does. And perhaps she’s been waiting all these years for someone to finally hear her. The wedding was never finished.