Every Night

It starts like any other night. You’re tired after a long day, eager to get some rest. The clock strikes midnight, and you sink into your bed, pulling the covers tightly around you. The room is quiet, save for the soft hum of the fan by the window and the occasional creak of the house settling in for the night. You close your eyes, hoping for peaceful sleep, but that’s not what awaits you.

Every night, without fail, it begins.

The First Incident

It was a typical Tuesday when Sarah first noticed it. The silence of the night was broken by the sound of footsteps — heavy and slow, dragging on the floorboards. They started out faint, almost imperceptible, but soon they grew louder. Thump... thump... thump...

She lay there, still as a statue, heart pounding in her chest. Who could be walking around in the middle of the night? It was late, far too late for anyone to be up and moving through the house. Sarah told herself it was just her imagination playing tricks on her, but deep down, she knew it wasn’t.

The footsteps grew louder, closer. Panic surged through her as the sound neared her bedroom door. She wanted to call out, but her voice was caught in her throat. Her body refused to move, frozen in fear.

Then, just as suddenly as it began, the footsteps stopped. Silence returned. Sarah didn’t dare move or open her eyes. She waited for what felt like hours before finally, the weight of exhaustion overtook her, and she fell into a restless, uneasy sleep.

But the next night, it happened again.

The Endless Nights

Each night after that, it was the same. The footsteps would start — slow and deliberate — and they would come closer and closer to her room. Sometimes, they would stop right outside her door. Other times, they would continue past, fading away into the darkness. No matter how tightly she shut her eyes, no matter how much she willed herself to sleep, she could not escape the sound of those footsteps.

One night, unable to take it anymore, Sarah decided to confront whatever was tormenting her. She stayed awake, clutching a flashlight in her trembling hands, waiting for the familiar sound to begin. Hours passed, but nothing happened. Just as she began to relax, thinking perhaps it had all been in her mind, she heard it.

Thump... thump... thump...

The footsteps were slow but unmistakable, just like every other night. They started outside her door, and Sarah’s heart raced in her chest. She could hear them coming closer. She gripped the flashlight tighter, her knuckles white, waiting for the door to open.

But then, something unusual happened. The footsteps stopped right outside her door, but instead of fading away, they waited. A cold chill filled the room as if something was lingering just beyond the threshold, watching her, waiting for her to do something. The air was thick with tension, and Sarah could barely breathe.

In the silence, she thought she heard something else — a whisper. It was faint, almost imperceptible, but unmistakable.

"Open the door."

The Truth Behind the Footsteps

Sarah didn’t know how much time had passed, but eventually, the footsteps disappeared. For a moment, she thought the nightmare was over. But in the days that followed, she learned something horrifying: The footsteps weren’t the worst part.

The worst part was that, every night, they got closer. They didn’t just stop at her door anymore. They moved into the room, circling her bed, pacing back and forth. Sometimes, she would feel a cold breeze brush her skin, or hear faint breathing just behind her ear. But when she turned, no one was there.

It became clear that whatever this presence was, it wanted her attention. And it wasn’t going to stop until it had it.

One night, Sarah gathered enough courage to open the door. She flipped on the lights and stepped into the hallway, expecting to find nothing. But the hallway was eerily still, bathed in the soft glow of the dim hallway light. There was no one there. The house was silent.

But as she turned back to her room, a low growl echoed from the shadows.

Suddenly, the door slammed shut behind her. She whirled around, but nothing was visible. Her heart raced. Something was in the house with her, something she couldn’t see. And then she heard it again — the sound of heavy footsteps moving closer, the same slow, deliberate pace.

The presence was real. And it was coming for her.

The Final Night

By the time Sarah realized she couldn’t escape, it was too late. The footsteps had escalated into something far worse. They no longer waited outside her door — they stalked her in the dark, following her wherever she went, whispering and growling just behind her ear. Her sanity slowly unraveled as the presence became more and more oppressive.

Each night, she would hear the footsteps, closer and closer, until she couldn’t tell where they ended and where her own mind began. They were with her now, in her very soul, haunting her every waking moment.

On the final night, Sarah lay in bed, trembling with exhaustion and fear, waiting for the inevitable. The footsteps came, louder than ever, as if something was pacing beside her bed, watching her.

And then, a voice, deep and guttural, whispered from the darkness:

"Every night, you belong to me."

And with that, Sarah vanished. The house was quiet once again, the footsteps silenced for good.

Conclusion: Every Night is a Reminder

Every night, something else is waiting in the darkness. For Sarah, the terror became too much to bear, and it consumed her. But the footsteps are still out there, in the quiet of the night, waiting to find someone else. They never stop, never rest.

You might hear them too. Late at night, in the dead silence, you may catch the sound of something — someone — walking slowly toward your door. And when they stop, just outside, you may hear the whisper: "Open the door."

So, remember this when you go to bed tonight: Every night, there’s something in the darkness that wants to find you.

The question is — will you be ready when it does?