I woke up at 3:17 a.m. to a sound I couldn’t place.

Not a dream. Not the hum of electricity.

It was a whisper—soft, deliberate—

yet when I searched the room, there was no one.

The strange part?

The words weren’t spoken to me…

they were spoken from me.

I don’t remember saying them.

But the voice… was mine.

Now I’m left with one question:

If my voice spoke without me,

what else can it

do without me?

End of Chapter One.

👉 This post is mintable as a collectible. Whoever collects it holds the “first whisper,” the beginning of a story that will unfold piece by piece.