There are stories you hear around campfires and stories you find in evidence lockers. But some don’t stay buried.

Echoes from the Void is a new section dedicated to the haunted edges of storytelling—where the medium is just as terrifying as the message. Here, we unearth lost tapes, anonymous letters, and transmissions from realities that shouldn’t exist.

These are not mere tales. They are artifacts. Fragments of fear. And we’re passing them on to you.

Read them. Listen closely. But don’t say we didn’t warn you.

---

Recovered microcassette labeled: “June 12 – Don’t Listen Alone.”

NOTE: The following is a complete transcription of the audio recovered from a handheld microcassette recorder found in a collapsed structure deep within the Ardenwald National Forest. The cabin no longer exists. No survivors were ever identified.

---

[BEGIN TRANSCRIPTION]

Recording starts with the click of a REC button. Light wind. Distant birdsong. A man exhales deeply, out of breath but trying to sound calm.

VOICE:

Okay. It’s… this is Jason Ellery. June 12th, 9:47 AM. We made it. We’re here. The place is real.

(He laughs, tired.)

We didn’t think the cabin existed. It’s not on any maps. But there it is—half-sunken, roof caved in like something stepped on it.

I’m logging this because something already feels off.

[2 minutes of ambient sound. The wind dies. Silence. Then footsteps crunch on dry leaves.]

JASON:

Becca says it smells like iron. She’s not wrong. The air’s… heavy. Inside, there are these claw marks—not animal. Parallel. Deliberate. Carved into the doorframe like… like tally marks.

Thirty-six.

[Click. Jump in audio. New timestamp: 4:12 PM]

JASON:

Found a bedroom. Well, what’s left of one. There’s a bed frame, rusted springs, and this—this thing nailed to the wall.

It’s… a recorder. Just like this one.

Except it’s melted. Charred. Like it caught fire—but nothing else around it burned.

And there’s this noise, sometimes. A whisper, under the wind. You think you hear your name. Then you hear it again—closer.

[Beep. Sudden static. Audio distorts briefly. Then, more clearly:]

JASON (whispering):

I don’t think we should’ve come.

[New timestamp: 2:19 AM. Jason is whispering again. Wind howls outside.]

JASON:

Can’t sleep. Becca’s gone. She was in her sleeping bag and now it’s just… open.

I went outside. No footprints. But the forest sounds… wrong. The trees creak, but not from wind. Like they’re moving.

There’s a smell now. Burnt hair and… blood.

I keep seeing flashes—out the window. Faces. Not hers. Not anyone I know.

[Heavy breathing. Then, faint humming. Female voice—indistinct. Jason gasps.]

JASON:

That’s her. That’s Becca. She’s humming that song again. The one from the car. But she’s not outside.

She’s in the walls.

[Recorder drops. Muffled crash. Screeching feedback for 15 seconds.]

[Final timestamp: UNKNOWN – counter resets to 00:00:01]

UNKNOWN VOICE (female, whispering):

You heard us.

That makes you part of it.

(A second voice overlaps, distorted and inhuman:)

Play it again.

Play it again.

Play it again.

[END TRANSCRIPTION]

ARCHIVE NOTES:

The tape ends abruptly. The microcassette recorder was found next to what appeared to be scorched bones and a partially melted backpack. The area is now closed to the public. A second recorder, referenced by the narrator, was never located.

The audio cannot be played past the final timestamp without system errors or device overheating. Attempts to digitize the last segment have resulted in equipment failure.

Play at your own risk.