𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕿𝖍𝖎𝖗𝖙𝖊𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖍 𝕽𝖔𝖔𝖒

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 1: 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕷𝖔𝖈𝖐𝖊𝖉 𝕽𝖔𝖔𝖒 𝕹𝖔𝖇𝖔𝖉𝖞 𝕹𝖔𝖙𝖎𝖈𝖊𝖉

𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒅𝒐𝒏’𝒕 𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒔𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒓𝒐𝒐𝒎. 𝑰𝒕 𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒔𝒆𝒔 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒕𝒐 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖.

The Day Mira First Saw the House

Mira didn’t think much about the house when the lawyer handed her the key.

After everything that happened — the accident, the hospital rooms, the endless paperwork — nothing seemed real. The house, standing there like a faded memory at the end of 13th Lane, was just another formality. It would be temporary. Just a place to stay. Nothing more.

But the moment she stepped through the front gate, something felt… wrong.

It was like the house was holding its breath.

The house itself was massive, crumbling on the edges, but still standing tall. Old wood, peeling paint, a sagging roof. From the outside, it looked like the ghosts of a bygone era had long since left. But it didn’t feel empty. The porch light flickered on as she approached, though no one had touched it. The door opened by itself.

"Welcome home," the wind seemed to whisper.

Mira couldn’t shake the feeling that the house was alive.

The First Night – The Unseen Presence

That first night, Mira thought she heard something.

She sat by the window in her room, looking out at the street. The air was thick, cloying, as if the night itself was unwilling to let go. Her brother, Neel, was already asleep in the room next door. He hadn’t said much since their parents’ death. He never did. But tonight, something felt different.

It was around 2:30 AM when Mira heard it — a soft scratching sound.

Like something dragging against wood.

She froze. Her eyes darted around the room, scanning every corner. But the room was still, the shadows dancing across the walls from the flickering candlelight.

The scratching stopped. Mira waited, holding her breath. A minute passed. Two minutes. Just the wind.Then came the knock.

Soft. Deliberate. From somewhere far off in the house.

Three knocks. Not from the door. No, it was from somewhere… deeper.

The air seemed to grow colder.

It came from the direction of the hallway. Mira slowly moved out of her bed, her feet barely touching the floor. She crept out of her room and tiptoed to the hallway, looking down at the wooden floorboards. Every step echoed.

There was no one in the hallway. No sounds. No lights. Just the dark stretch of old wood and the faintest smell of something damp, like mildew, hanging in the air.

Except for one thing.

The door.

The Door That Shouldn’t Be There

Mira had been in this house for hours, but something caught her attention now. A door.

The door at the end of the hallway.

It wasn’t on the floorplan. There was no mention of it in the house’s history. No one had mentioned it before.

It was painted shut — old, chipping paint with smudges of darker, fresher stains. The grain of the wood seemed to stretch in unnatural directions, like veins.

Mira pressed her ear to the door. The scratch marks. They were still there. Fresh.

Then she heard the whisper.

A soft, raspy voice that seemed to come from inside her own mind:

“Let me out.”

he stepped back, confused. The door had been locked when she arrived. But now… it felt different. The air around it had a weight. A pull. The wall seemed to hum.

She touched it.

It was warm. Too warm. Like it had been recently touched.

As she ran her fingers along the surface, something flickered at the edge of her vision. A figure in the far corner of the hallway, barely visible, standing still.

She turned. Nothing. Just shadows.

The First Clue

The next day, Mira couldn’t stop thinking about the door.

She told herself it was just her imagination. The house was old, the silence unsettling. She hadn’t slept properly since the funeral. It was all stress.

But when she went to the attic that afternoon, she found something.

A photograph.

It was an old Polaroid, the edges frayed, yellowing with age. Four people stood in front of the house, smiling. It was a family photo — two adults and two children. Mira stared at it, her heart sinking. One of the children looked exactly like her.

But there was something wrong with the photo.

It was dated 1972, almost fifty years ago.

The man and woman in the picture had the same faces, yet they weren’t strangers. She knew them — she just couldn’t place from where.

But then she saw it. The fifth person.

In the window of the room upstairs.

The same room.

The one with the door that didn’t exist.

The figure wasn’t visible in the family photo. But standing behind the window, their face was twisted. No eyes, just a dark smile.

The First Night After

That night, at exactly 3:06 AM, Mira woke up.

She heard it again — the scratching.

But it was louder this time.

Closer.

It felt like something was waiting.

She slowly pushed her covers off, her legs shaking as she slid out of bed. The hallway was pitch black. The air smelled different, heavier. Mira grabbed the flashlight and walked toward the door, her hand trembling as she reached for the handle.

Before she could touch it, the door creaked open.

On its own.

Inside was the chair. Still. Dark.

The walls were covered in smears, streaks of something dark. Something alive.

A sound came from the shadows.

A woman. Sitting in the chair.

Her long hair matted and clinging to her face.

Her back was turned, but the smell in the air — blood. It was all over her. And the chair.

Mira stepped forward, her heart pounding in her chest. The woman’s head slowly turned. Her eyes were empty. No iris. No pupils. Just hollow sockets.

Her lips parted.

And she whispered:

“You shouldn’t have come. But now that you’re here…”

“You’ll never leave.”

----𝕰𝖓𝖉 𝖔𝖋 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 1----