A terrifying short horror story
The first thing I noticed was the whispering.
It was 2:17 a.m., and I was lying in bed when I heard someone softly say my name.
At first, I thought I was dreaming. The house was quiet, the windows were locked, and everyone else was asleep.
Then it happened again.
“Come downstairs.”
I sat up.
The voice sounded like my mother.
There was only one problem.
My mother had been dead for eleven years.
I reached for my phone and turned on the flashlight. The hallway outside my bedroom was completely dark. I listened carefully, hoping to hear something that would explain what I had just heard.
Nothing.
Then came three slow knocks from downstairs.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
I quietly stepped into the hallway. As I approached the staircase, I noticed something strange. The front door was wide open.
I knew I had locked it.
A cold breeze drifted through the house, carrying the faint smell of damp earth and something I couldn’t identify.
“Hello?” I called.
My voice echoed through the empty rooms.
Then, from somewhere beneath the staircase, I heard a little girl giggling.
I froze.
“Who’s there?”
The giggling stopped.
A moment later, my phone buzzed.
It was a text message from my own number.
Don’t go downstairs.
My heart began pounding.
I stared at the screen, confused. Before I could process what was happening, another message appeared.
It’s already upstairs.
I slowly turned around.
At the far end of the hallway stood a woman wearing an old-fashioned white nightgown. Her long black hair covered her face, and her arms hung unnaturally at her sides.
I couldn’t move.
“Who are you?” I whispered.
The woman tilted her head.
Then she spoke.
“Why did you leave me here?”
The voice was unmistakable.
It was my mother’s.
I stumbled backward, nearly dropping my phone. The hallway lights flickered once, twice, and then went completely dark.
I heard footsteps.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Coming toward me.
I ran into my bedroom and slammed the door. I locked it, pushed a chair against it, and crawled beneath the blankets like a frightened child.
For several minutes, there was nothing.
Then I heard breathing.
Not outside the door.
Inside the room.
Right beside my bed.
I slowly lowered the blanket.
My phone screen lit up again.
Another message.
I told you not to look.
And then, from beneath the bed, a familiar voice whispered:
“Now that you’ve seen me, we can finally be together.”
The bedroom door began to open.
But I was still holding the key.
And whatever was standing beside my bed…
Wasn’t using the door.
THE END.
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