“These trash bags are becoming sentient,” Anna muttered, staring at the pile of black plastic accumulating in the corner of her tiny apartment. Living alone in the bustling metropolis, she had grown accustomed to talking to herself.
The bags had started whispering three nights ago. At first, she dismissed it as the wind or her overworked imagination - a natural consequence of sixty-hour workweeks at the investment firm. But now, in the dim light of her bedroom, she could swear they were calling her name.
“Miss Chen, you really should get some rest,” Dr. Zhou said during her emergency appointment the next morning. “Corporate burnout is no joke.”
Anna shifted uncomfortably in the leather chair. “You don’t understand. These aren’t hallucinations. The bags… they’re trying to tell me something.”
Dr. Zhou adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses. “Perhaps they represent something? The weight of modern life, perhaps? The accumulation of societal pressure?”
“They’re filled with old papers. Documents. From work.” Anna’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Failed investments. Covered-up losses. Things that should never see daylight.”
The psychiatrist leaned forward. “And why do you keep them?”
“I… I can’t throw them away. They’re evidence.”
That night, the whispers grew louder. Anna sat cross-legged before the pile of bags, their surfaces gleaming like wet obsidian in the moonlight.
“What do you want?” she demanded.
“Justice,” they seemed to hiss. “Truth.”
Her phone buzzed - another message from HR about the upcoming internal audit. Anna’s hands trembled as she read it.
“We can’t let them find out,” she told the bags. “Do you understand? Thousands of people would lose their jobs. Their homes. Their dignity.”
“Like the dignity you lost?” the bags whispered back. “Like the truth you buried?”
A knock at the door made her jump. Through the peephole, she saw Mr. Zhang from the ethics committee, flanked by two security guards.
“Miss Chen? We need to discuss some irregularities in your reports.”
Anna backed away from the door, bumping into the pile of bags. They rustled accusingly.
“I did it for them,” she whispered. “For the workers. The families.”
“Did you?” the bags seemed to ask. “Or did you do it for your bonus? Your promotion? Your corner office?”
Tears streamed down Anna’s face as she reached for her phone. Her finger hovered over the number for the financial crimes hotline.
The bags fell silent.
When the ethics committee finally broke down her door the next morning, they found the apartment empty. On the floor lay dozens of pristine white garbage bags, each filled with meticulously organized documents - evidence of years of corporate fraud and manipulation.
But of Anna Chen, there was no trace. Only a note remained on her desk:
“The truth whispers louder than lies.”
In the following weeks, as the scandal rocked the financial world and thousands of small investors were made whole, rumors circulated about the mysterious whistleblower. Some claimed to have seen a woman carrying black garbage bags boarding a flight to nowhere. Others swore the bags themselves had exposed the truth.
But in a small café halfway across the world, Anna sipped her coffee and smiled. The only bags near her were filled with fresh bread and local newspapers, and they didn’t whisper anymore. They didn’t need to.