The Lure of the Unknown
Secrets of the haunted car
"There was only one rule: don’t open the door."
Elie and Electra stood before the old car, hoping the key from their grandmother's sealed box would work. The car had been there forever. The key, a silvery scratched object, was small and insignificant.
The car's surface was scratched in places with strange symbols that seemed to pulse at times, almost hovering.
Ellie felt brave and imagined they were already arriving at the reunion in their burgundy costumes, with masks of their own making. What an amazing sight this would be! Florian was sure to notice her at last.
She heard the voice again and shuddered. "Don't open the door!" This was not her grandmother's voice, but that of a young girl, frightened and lost, echoing from the depths. The depths of what?
Ignoring the chill creeping down her spine, she reached for the tarnished handle. The paint on the door was chipped in many places, and it was cold to touch, almost like a gravestone.
She took a deep breath and turned the key. The pin stuck, and the door swung open with a heavy groan and a deep squeak. A thick fog poured out of the inside of the car, whispers calling her to get closer, to climb in.
Suddenly, Electra murmured to the engine: "It's alive! It's working, Ellie!"
The engine was roaring somehow, without gasoline in. There was no key in the ignition. What was going on?
The whispers inside grew louder, transforming into anguished cries. Ellie and Electra looked at each other. This was not a common car, it was not even a magical world, but a prison for lost souls.
They were suddenly sucked in and the door smashed shut.
And there was no way back.
About the Creator
Gabriela Trofin-Tatár
Passionate about tech, studying Modern Journalism at NYU, and mother of 3 littles. Curious, bookaholic and travel addict. I also write on Medium and Substack: https://medium.com/@chicachiflada & https://chicachiflada.substack.com/
Reader insights
Outstanding
Excellent work. Looking forward to reading more!
Top insights
Compelling and original writing
Creative use of language & vocab
Excellent storytelling
Original narrative & well developed characters
Keep reading
More stories from Gabriela Trofin-Tatár and writers in Horror and other communities.
How My Grandmother’s Legacy Goes Beyond the Wrinkles
The Shifting Generations of the Women Before Me Over the course of history, women’s roles have changed and evolved, creating an array of stories. All the way from the early fights for suffrage to the current fight for equality, women have skillfully maneuvered through social changes, questioning conventions and reshaping their roles in significant ways.
By Gabriela Trofin-TatárExclusive • about a year ago
The Voice That Waited
Seen (1) At the edge of a quiet town stood an abandoned radio station, forgotten by time and avoided by locals. The building had been shut down for over twenty years, yet people claimed that at exactly 2:17 a.m., a faint broadcast could still be heard on an old frequency. No music. No news. Just a voice. Daniel was a small content creator who specialized in audio storytelling. He didn’t believe in rumors, but he believed in stories. When he heard about the mysterious broadcast, he decided to investigate—not for views, but for curiosity. One cold night, Daniel entered the radio station with his recorder and headphones. Dust covered the equipment, and spider webs hung from the ceiling. Everything looked dead. Silent. At exactly 2:17 a.m., the old transmitter crackled. A voice broke through the static. “Hello… is anyone listening?” Daniel froze. The voice was calm but tired, like someone who had been waiting for a long time. “My name is Arthur,” the voice continued. “I used to work here. If you can hear me, please don’t turn this off.” Daniel whispered into his microphone, “I’m listening.” The voice seemed relieved. “For years, I spoke into this microphone, hoping someone would hear me. When the station shut down, everyone left. Everyone except me.” Daniel’s heart raced. “Are you… alive?” There was a pause. Then a soft laugh. “That depends on what you mean by alive,” Arthur said. “I passed away in this building many years ago. But my voice stayed. This place remembers me.” Arthur explained that he had been a late-night radio host, speaking to lonely people, travelers, and insomniacs. The night the station closed, he stayed behind to record one final message—something meaningful. But no one ever aired it. He died alone, with his words unheard. “So I kept talking,” Arthur said. “Night after night. Waiting for someone to listen.” Daniel felt a heavy silence fill the room. “What do you want from me?” Daniel asked. Arthur answered gently, “I don’t need fear. I don’t need fame. I just want my message to reach someone. Anyone.” Daniel nodded, even though Arthur couldn’t see him. “I’ll share your story.” For the first time, the static disappeared. Arthur’s voice became clear. “Tell them this,” he said. “You are not invisible. Someone, somewhere, needs your voice—even if you don’t know it yet.” The broadcast ended. The room fell silent. Daniel left the station before sunrise and spent the next day editing the audio. He uploaded the recording as a simple podcast episode titled *The Voice That Waited*. He didn’t add music. He didn’t add effects. Just the truth. Within days, thousands of messages poured in. People said the voice helped them through loneliness, grief, and dark nights. Some cried. Some found comfort. Some found hope. Daniel returned to the radio station one last time. At 2:17 a.m., there was no broadcast. The transmitter stayed silent. But Daniel smiled. Because he understood something important: Some voices don’t fade because they are loud. They survive because someone finally listens.
By Do bol ho jaaye 6 days ago in Horror
Getting Serious About Comedy (Part I)
If I were asked to remark on my life and the childhood that paved some road leading me to this point, I would have to say something about all the funny people who surrounded me for the last 26,872 days (and counting). Somewhere along that road, I became a big fan of laughter and the comedy that spawns it – and, I mean not only my own laughter, but the laughter of others, some of which I have actually been responsible for inducing.
By John Oliver Smith6 days ago in Humor
Comments (7)
Creepy story! Well done and thank you for sharing it on the Tuesday Vocal+assist link.
As soon as you hear the voices, you gotta go a different direction haha. Great piece!
Scary stuff. Will there be a part 2
Now that was a unique approach to “There was only one rule: don’t open the door." I was fully engaged until those last lines... ‘They were suddenly sucked in and the door smashed shut. And there was no way back.’ A very well crafted and creative take that very much meets the brief! Hearted and subscribed. With kindness Pauline 🌸
Damn, they should have listened 😬
Lol, that's what happens when they don't listen. Loved your story!
Going to a different party now...grandma's car, never trust it.