Don’t Look Under the Bed at 3:00 AM

When I turned 17, I moved into my uncle’s old house in Sylhet to finish my studies. It was a peaceful village area — no city noise, no distractions.

My room was small but cozy. A dusty bed, an old wardrobe, and a tiny table. The only strange thing was the note stuck to the wall above the bed.

It read:

"NEVER LOOK UNDER THE BED AT 3:00 AM"

I laughed when I saw it. Probably some prank from the previous kid who lived here. Still, something about it felt... serious.

That night, I set my alarm for 3:00 AM, just to prove there was nothing to be afraid of.

⏰ Beep! Beep!

I woke up. The room was cold. The kind of cold that clings to your bones. Even the air felt... heavy.

I sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the floor.

Should I do it?

I waited. 3:01 AM. Nothing.

Then I leaned forward, my face just inches from the ground, and looked under the bed.

At first, it was just darkness. Then slowly, my eyes adjusted.

And I saw it.

A face.

But it was my face.

Staring back at me.

Smiling.

But I wasn’t smiling. I was frozen. My heart stopped.

The "other me" whispered:

"Thanks... You broke the rule."

Suddenly, my body jerked backward. I was dragged under the bed by an invisible force. It was tight. Cold. My nails scratched the floor, but no sound came out.

Everything went black.

I woke up in bed.

It was morning.

Relieved, I got up and went to the mirror. But something was wrong. My reflection… wasn’t moving. It just stood there… smiling.

My phone buzzed. A message.

Now you take my place.”

I turned to see someone else walk into my room and lie down on the bed.

I screamed — but no sound came out. Because I wasn’t in my body anymore. I was under the bed.