The Neighbour Who Vanished at 3 AM

I never paid much attention to Evelyn Carter until she disappeared.

She was just the quiet woman in Apartment 4B—polite but distant, the kind of neighbour you’d exchange awkward smiles with in the elevator but never really know. She kept to herself, always wearing oversized sweaters and clutching library books to her chest like armor. I figured she was just another introvert in a city full of them.

But then, on that freezing January night, the cameras caught her stepping out of our building at 3:07 AM, wearing nothing but a thin nightgown.

She never came back.

The Footage That Changed Everything

The police came two days later, knocking on doors, asking if anyone had seen her. I only realised something was truly wrong when Detective Ruiz showed me the grainy black-and-white footage from our building’s lobby.

There she was—Evelyn, her dark hair loose, her bare feet padding silently across the tile. She paused at the door, her head tilting slightly, as if listening to something only she could hear. Then, without hesitation, she pushed the door open and stepped into the frigid night.

The next camera, mounted outside, showed her walking toward the empty street. At the edge of the frame, she stopped again. This time, she turned her face upward—not at the sky, but at the abandoned building across the street.

The feed cut out for exactly three seconds.

When it came back, she was gone.

The Whispers Among Neighbours

After the police left, the building buzzed with theories. Mrs. Langley from 2C swore she’d heard singing that night—a faint, eerie hum that slithered through the walls around 3 AM. Old Mr. Driscoll, who never slept, claimed he saw a shadow standing outside Evelyn’s window hours before she vanished.

But the strangest detail? Evelyn’s apartment door had been left unlocked. Inside, everything was perfectly in place—her tea still warm, her phone and keys on the counter. And on her nightstand, a single handwritten note:

"They’re calling."

No explanation. No signature.

The Abandoned Building Across the Street

The police dismissed it as a mental break—a sleepwalking incident, maybe a psychotic episode. Case closed. But I couldn’t shake the way Evelyn had looked at that building.

It was an old, crumbling structure, boarded up after a fire years ago. The city had condemned it, but no one ever got around to tearing it down. Yet when I reviewed the footage again, frame by frame, I noticed something chilling:

In those three seconds when the camera glitched, one of the boarded-up windows… wasn’t boarded anymore.

It was open.

And something—someone—had been looking out.

The First Knock

Last night, at exactly 3:07 AM, I heard it.

A soft, deliberate knock on my door.

Not the front door—the bedroom door. The one that connects to Evelyn’s old apartment.

I froze. That door had been sealed shut for years, ever since the building’s renovation. There was no way anyone could be on the other side.

Then, from the darkness beyond the wood, a whisper:

"You hear them too, don’t you?"

Evelyn’s voice.

The Truth Unfolds

I haven’t slept since.

Because now, every night at 3 AM, the knocking comes again.

And every night, it gets louder.

This morning, I checked the security feed.

At 3:07 AM last night, the camera caught me standing in the lobby.

Eyes blank.

Smiling.

Walking toward the door.

I don’t remember any of it.

What Happens Next?

I’ve started sleeping with the lights on. I’ve barricaded the bedroom door. But deep down, I know it won’t matter.

Because last night, as I lay trembling in bed, I heard something new—a sound that wasn’t a knock or a whisper.

It was the creak of a window sliding open.

From inside my apartment.

And now, as I write this, I can feel it—the cold draft curling around my ankles, the faint hum of a voice I don’t recognise.

They’re calling.

And soon, I won’t be able to resist.