Middle-aged opinion - Trick or Treat

Episode Date: October 29, 2025

Hello everyone and welcome to the Halloween finale. Hope you enjoyed this month of pure Halloween story today is no different except longer do chosen six stories that we found really cool and interesting all about those schools possessions hauntings and anything in between we hope you enjoy it#Halloween #Possessed #Scary #TrickOrTreat

Wow. What do you think of that? What do you think of that? What do you think that girl is? What's it? Did you see what I posted? Turn the point in one. I can't hear it. What do you do to hear it?

I want to share something that happened to me, love. You know what it sounds like. Why is it just of me? Because you read the story. So every now and then I try and knew what, so I've got this. Of my face. pulling those faces that old lady faces so then this one and this is what I mean I was trying to get like because I'm only going to do four but the whole time or that

makeup you did and then that's the end of the last is it the end of the beginning the beginning and then that's your next one oh the net my man my man my neck. It's my one, you can't see my neck. You can see just like an eyeball. Able. Your first, your first one that went on three minutes, 50 seconds and it was like struggling to upload. I'm like, just get it on. Right. Um, ow. That's every time I move, ow. Um, yeah, so yay, scores out. Yay. For summer. Can you believe it's like summer's gone?

It's done. I can't believe that. I feel like it's gone so quick. It did go quick. It was one of the quickest summers. I couldn't actually recall ever having. Yeah. It's because we're busy.

It is. It's because we're busy now. And then part of me does feel like this term, this half term has gone quick. Although it hasn't, and it's been a long one. Got to help us when I start the training for the fingerball. knows when we find time for this I'm going to oh I can't in the middle of the night but sake what is it is it my eyes is it my striking personality

your personality I think it's my eyes they lure you in and my smile and my bottom teeth. That why haven't we done that TikTok yet? Woo! Because we're noses. Oh, I don't. That round right. Go on. And then what was it this?

What, wasn't it? wasn't it? Yeah. Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha. You gotta leave that bit in. No, don't. Right. I've got really nice pictures of my feet as well if you want one of those.

They're not nice at the moment they are, but no, I don't know what's going on with your feet. I don't even know how I've got that bruise. I have no idea with like a hole in it. I've just not no idea. I just heard. I learnt myself all the time and then I'm like, that hurts, why does that hurt? But yes, they man. You better put a plaster or something on it.

On which one? The hole. Oh, there's a hole like in the front part thing as well. No, the hole in your hill. Oh, in the hill. I did have a plaster by. I had a bath earlier. And then Paul went, it's not a hole, it's a blister and I went,

it's a fucking hole. Yeah. It's a pretty big hole. Took off my whole hill, walking up the hill. quite literally oh right we're doing the finale let's get in there are you ready got all those bogeys up there you want to do any no shit no no hang on it never for this though oh yeah you do mine how can we got catch and sun as well i think that's cute don't know i was thinking do i fancy something maybe a bit of juice juicy rather than juicy lucy juicy i'm excited

that I've only got one week but I need to come up with some sort of study guide you know I need to get the shit in my head and I'm struggling to get it in my head do you think it's because I'm 41? No what is it then?

What's wrong with me? I feel like we I feel like we don't discuss it enough in class like so he tells us the information but I don't think like I feel like we're not discussing what that means exactly

why is it like that exactly what is that you know is that for? Why are we doing it like that? Yeah. I feel like it. But because we've only got three hours. But I said to Cheyenne, it's like we've almost finished with the whole fucking practical. The way that we're flying, I did really manage to, but I was like hyper fixating. And then Cheyenne said to me, you've got the hump today. And I went, I don't have the aunt babe. I'm just like, I'm fixating. I want to show you what I've built. I love it. It's clever, isn't it?

I don't know what it is, but I love it. It's a pipe system. What does it do? Well, that water goes in here and then travels round. Yeah. And then that's that. So I could put that under a sink. It depends.

It's just building different systems. Okay. To measurements. So, and I built that within about an hour. So you have to cut it down, measure it, work out all the measurements. And it's a let you take away 11 from per side. 11 what? 11mm.

Ask me why. Why? Don't know. They don't tell you why. You just have to. That's the problem. Nobody tells you why. Anyway, back to the podcast.

You need that. You need that. I turn it away. That's why I'm looking forward to half term being able to, yeah, or try anyway, because then I've got the exam and I go back. Okay, anyway, any who, right, hello everyone and welcome to Malaysia Opinion. I'm your host, Ellie, and I'm your host, Emily, and today is our finale of our Halloween specials.

Do do you all, oh, ghosties, ghosties, go away, you're not real, anyway! Little things, what we've been up to. Lots, we just told you. I did forget to tell you something. Did I tell you my card details got stolen? No. Yeah, so I took Zeus to Colston High Street because I do training with him where it's busy.

And anyway, I can now get him to do middle and back, so you know where you see these dogs and they sit in the back of you in between your legs at cash points. So I get him to do that. The machine was out of order. Well, I didn't use the machine. I just was next to the machine because I'm doing training. Anyway, I got home, got a text from the bank.

Basically, because I got close to it, it scanned my card that was in my bag right next to the finger bob. 165 pounds. No. I got it all back. And apparently they were making payments to, I want to say Ipswich, something like that council for someone in prison. Oh, yeah. I was like, I don't know anyone in prison. It's definitely not me.

And my counsel is something. So how weird is that? But yeah, just by going close now to a machine, it can read your... Oh, my gosh. Because they were like, he's like... They've even got your numbers at the back of the cards. It was like, it's been scanned from the chip.

I was like, mate. Because I used to carry my cards everywhere. I need to turn that. I used to carry my cards everywhere. Now you can't, like, can't even do that, babe. I can't have your card with you. I have my card, but my card's not connected to my phone or anything. Or is it?

It might be. The Google pay might be. It's nothing to do with my Apple pay. It is literally, the card was in the back of the phone. I was near the cash point with whatever reader they had in it and it scanned it. Because the machine itself was out of order. So I was just training and it's literally, I've got close and it scanned my card that is in my phone case. So not my phone.

When it's not your Apple pay, it's from your card. Where is your cards? So my card is in my phone. And he was like, because when I got the text saying there's unusual activity, then it was like, have you made a pet? I was like, no. And then it rang me.

So I hung up because they never trust any of that shit and rung in the bank. And they were like, yeah, definitely. And then he was like, if we can get your money back. I mean, what are you talking about if you get my money back? It's fraud. It's nothing to do with me. You best be sending me.

And you went, yeah, we are going to give you your money back, but we will look into it. I went, looking to whatever you want, mate. But I ain't got one six five to be messing about with. But look, babe, seconds that was. Seconds. Yeah, you got like, honestly, these people, he went, that's probably why the cash point isn't working

because they put something in it to scan. I went, I didn't even put it in there. He went, yeah, you must have been close enough. So bad. I mean, it's clever, but it's so fucking bad. Yeah. So bad. I mean, you just have to be careful now, but luckily it notified me because it was probably thinking prison, that's true.

She doesn't spend that sort of money. Yeah, she's got no money. What is this? So, we did have a good laugh though. I did end up, I was on the phone for ages. I ended up telling him about the podcast and everything. Oh my God. Because he said, I got a really nice boy, so I went money you should shake at, because I got a podcast. She said, yes.

I wonder if he's looked us up. is no oh my gosh we were talking about things you do as you get old and I was like I tried to podcast

my friend I was like I've just gone back to college and I'm completely having a midlife crisis what about you

so I'm sort of work here at the bank dull right right have I done the hello I feel like I did we totally have

yeah we are doing our finale we are doing ghost stories yes so my fault because I could not be bothered to do a whole right up on the true crime that I wanted to although I will do it just on a different occasion and I hadn't done anything and I was going to be scraping it together last night so I was grateful that she decided I bet when you read that you were yes I was like oh I just could not like because I would have to get the other phone then I have to speak in it then you've got to write it all up then you've got to go on Wikipedia then you've got to take the clips because

obviously you've got to add the clips and the pictures and this that and the other and it's not it is like a week's worth of work and I was just like it's now Thursday and I've done nothing except listen to different stories about it and I wouldn't have done it like that no I would have done a summary of what happens and people died and then they were warn yeah done right do you want to start me or do you want me to stop no I don't mind mine is not terribly long my first one what one do you want to go with first I think I'm on a train to hell should we just make sure we haven't got any of the same of the three that I want to read my my last one that I'm finishing off

with is I inherited my grandpa's house. He left me a no about a door. No, you ain't got that. And then I found my roommate under my bed. You've saved about 37. Haven't, I didn't. I did not. She has. No. It's because I've recognized the titles. Oh, I've only read through two, so bear with on the, uh, not the last one. I've read through that. but I just went so long but I've moved on with my life I could only lay in the bath for so much longer before before I went down the plug hole right let me let me start my sister's baby and he's only got too long ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha I'm gonna die.

We're looking after it and he's got no legs and it's kind of a sort of stump happened. It's kind of happy and I had to take out a second job because I had to pay the mortgage. But I can imagine that it's what it's like when the kids talk to you at school. Oh, you're just like, missa, missa, missa, missa, missa, what's it? Do they attack you? Oh, smack! And you're like, yeah. I'd be so angry every day.

Watch this, what's this? did you see me and how do you ask for that yes this are you yeah this is how I'd answer it you're wasting my time you are wasting my time oh fantastic job

good jump wow good crawling Helen sends me sends me memes of you know where the devil wears Prada where the woman goes she's like that's how I imagine you like that's exactly how I am even with my own she's wasting my time oh is she

where's she gone Tenerife how come she's allowed away during term time she's not she got in trouble but I'm going first yeah no I'm going first we do yeah and then I changed my mind wow so am I reading like this again I can see it down bring it down just down you can't see it there right there's fine okay Okay, so no sleep. Are these true or are these made up? No, they're, they, these are storytellers. Right, because the last one I'm, I'm finishing on, I went into the comments and he's talking as if it's really happening.

My understanding is, that's terrifying. These are storytellers. That was my understanding and now I'm like, please. Right, anyway, when I was seven years, I was, seven years. old, my neighbour would sneak in through my closet. I don't remember when it started. I was too young. Johnny, one of my neighbours, used to sneak in through the crawl space at the back of my closet to play. even now I can still picture him

so clearly in my head he's sharp blue eyes with his sunken in socket his filthy unwashed hands fingernails overgrown and caked in dirt his crooked smile with three front teeth missing

he's a picture absolute catch Emily's looking you've got his number I can smell him too Oh no The must of sweat With grime and sweet stench Of someone who's been rolling in grass and dead leaves

He seems like such a recent memory Even now 19 years later As much as I want to I can't forget him Not after what happened in the early summer of 06 Knock, knock, knock, free knocks from the inside of my closet.

That was the sign that Johnny was there. I opened the door, greeted by my friend, his toothy smile on full display. I returned the gesture inviting him into my room. Hurry up. I want to show you this new game I got. Pokemon had come out that year. prior and I had just managed to scrape up enough money to buy it. I took Johnny by the wrist and brought him into my room. He didn't stop me. He listened intently as I explained

the game. His eyes glued on the screen. That's one of the things I liked about Johnny. He was an adult, but he didn't treat me at all. like other grown-ups did. He listened to what I had to say. He made me feel seen. Maybe that's why I didn't tell anyone sooner. After around 30 minutes, Johnny told me that he had something of his own that he wanted me to see. I perked up, temporary distracted by my game. I found it at the park today, he said extending a cheap camera bore me to hold i didn't want to put him down i had a way nicer one than that but he obviously was so proud of it neat i said turning it over in my hands want to take a picture johnny nodded a green a grin inch across his lips i i leaned in and took a snapshot of us we couldn't

see what it was. He'd need to get the film developed for that. Cool. I'll give you one of them when I get them back. We suddenly heard footsteps cracking down the hall. Johnny's eyes grew wider. We knew that what that meant. He scrambled to my closet, shutting himself inside before my mother reached my room to tell me that dinner was ready. I didn't see Johnny very much. I didn't see Johnny very much after that. That wasn't too unusual though. Sometimes he would go a week or so without coming to see me. I think about 10 days had passed before I heard any signal from my closet at all. Knock knock knock. I leapt up and threw the door open. Johnny was there with his firm grin. He came into my room and just sat there as he usually did sat and stationed in front of the TV come on

johnny you said you'd play jenga the last time you were here i got the blocks up already i don't know what game that is the block game and you come out and you put the handle okay it's a very loud noise noisy one they crashed down i know i wonder what the parents were thinking uh uh Yes, I remember, but first I've got something for you, he said, pulling a photograph from his pocket. I'd forgotten all about it. Here, this is for you. He handed it to me and I glanced down at our smiles. My eyes travelled round from the photo to the wall. Johnny understood my implication. You've got to keep the picture somewhere safe, okay? Somewhere that your mum can't find it. We will both get in big trouble if she sees it. I nodded. We've been over this plenty of

times before. Mum couldn't know that Johnny was coming into my room. He wouldn't be able to come over anymore. Now let's get to the game. Johnny started coming by more frequently after that. He began showing up almost nightly to the point where it became a routine. He would not knock, I'd let him in and we'd play the board games or draw pictures until mum would come down the hall and scare him off. I didn't have many friends so I really enjoyed our arrangement until one night when Johnny came back different. A day went by without him popping in, then two, then three. After I hadn't heard from him in two weeks, I started to worry. What if something has happened to him. As much as his absence shook me, I knew that it wasn't a big

thing and I could do, and I could do without it, no problem. But to my relief, eventually he did come back. Now I wish that he never did. I was sitting on my bed reading a comic book when I heard it free knocks from inside my closet that didn't sound like Johnny's regular knocks. They were quicker, more frantic. I didn't register the difference at first. I was just happy that Johnny had finally returned. I leapt off my bed and raced over to the door, threw it open with a huge grin on my face, expecting to find Johnny standing there, bearing that same toothless smile that he always did. But when I opened the door, I was met by a different sight. Johnny stood before me, but he wasn't smiling. He looked even dirtier than normal. The coat he was wearing

had holes in it and his hands were cracked with layers of grime. He had scabs all over his face and if he'd been realistically picking all his flesh, his eyes darted around the room shifting from one object to another. My heart dropped. I could tell that there was something wrong. Johnny, are you okay? I asked. A sudden feeling of unease crossing through me. Johnny's eyes snapped to me and he mumbled. And then he grabbed my wrist and tried to bring me towards the closet. Johnny, there's something I have to show you. Come with me. He pulled me. His hands dirty. His fingernails digging into my flesh. Little red dots started to appear on my hands. Get off me, Johnny. This man was not gentle, caring friend that I knew. I screamed both out of fear

and pain. I could hear mum's footsteps crushing down the hole in response. Normally Johnny would be terrified and hide from the sound, but not this time. He was determined to take me. Johnny, you have seen this I need you to see this there's something something that I need you to see tears started to in well up in my eyes that's the word I didn't know what Johnny had to show me and I didn't want to know fortunately I would never have to see it mum burst into my room full mum bear mode it took her a moment to register what was happening but the second that she did, she rushed over to us and began hitting Johnny as hard as she could. He eventually let me go and fell to the floor. Then mum scooped me up and bolted down the

hall into her room where she locked it from the inside of the door and she phoned the police. I didn't see Johnny being led out of the house in handcuffs. I'm glad I didn't. I think the image would have stuck with me for a long time. Mum has long forgotten. about the parcel at the back of the closet buried by other clothes and shoes. Inside was a small storage room. It turns out that there was never a cruel space that led outside. I'd been lied to, but even more disturbing was what the police found in their search. Among all the sewer and wrappers of empty food containers,

they discovered a sleeping bag. Dozens of dirty needles and photographs, hundreds of them. I was in every single one, walking home from school, eating breakfast, playing with the neighbourhood kids, I didn't know how he got them, they still terrify me how many times had Johnny been lurking just out of sight. Additionally, they found a notebook. It only had one entry, a photograph that I had taken with Johnny was taped inside with the words Johnny and Joe

Best Friends Forever written beneath I didn't know how many years he had been given when he was arrested we moved shortly after and mum didn't ever bring it up again I don't blame her

I tried my best to forget that even after all this time I can't get it out of my head sometimes I glanced down at the tiny scar on my wrist from where he had dug his fingernails in and I wonder what would have happened if I had followed Johnny into that room. What do you think? I like it. I like that one. So he was just, he was living in her house. He was living in a crawl space, yeah.

she thought he was from next door I mean initially I thought Johnny was like a younger person no Johnny was a creepy old man creepy creepy creepy when I say old man I'm getting the impression he was like our age and she was a child yeah that's why I say old that is what I think perverted yeah I enjoyed the story it actually reminds me

of there is this film where this girl starts like everything starts to smell a bit odd like from where he's rubbing herself in her bed and all that and you know licking her underwear and all this shit so obviously fucking stinks because he's living he's living upstairs in the loft and in all the cruel spaces then every now and then she'd catch something out the corner of the eye when she's in the shower or whatever because he's getting in the fucking house everywhere anyway she's like dads blah blah blah and they're like you're just causing trouble because you don't want to live here because they've moved. Turns out, obviously, there's a bloke living there

and she was telling the truth. And then when this bloke finally tries to kill everyone, they were like, oh, she's telling the truth. Oh, that man. Oh, why didn't you say so? Yeah. Get that to yourself. Yeah.

Did you like it? Yeah, I don't like it. You don't like it, but you liked it. Yeah, it was a good story, but I don't like it. It's not okay. And then top comment, generally, such a side. scary experience. I had to read this twice. This sounds familiar. It's obviously the story, but yeah. Oh, licking her knickers. Can you imagine, can you imagine as a child, someone

knocking on your closet and coming through? Because even as a child, I'd be like, yeah, that's not right. That's not right. And the three knocks as well freaked me out initially. As soon as she went three knocks, I was like, that's the devil's knock. The weird thing is, that Johnny could have been coming into the room at any time without knocks yeah like at any time yeah yeah yeah yeah sleeping showering she probably would have smelled him it's fucked up in it's filthy it's a no from me no that isn't the one I wanted to read first either no that was definitely not the one you said you were going to read oh no that's the last one that's my favorite one that's my favorite one

the grandpa one okay that goes on and on I know and on there's a few there's a few of them like that okay I liked it I liked good choice yeah good choice I like one that is like weird yeah and then you now start looking around thinking have I got cross spaces we don't really I feel like that it's an American thing Cassian things that there's someone in the loft I'm like have you seen how big I loft is how big is your loft literally the whole no you see this this bit here not not past here well yeah that space there is the loft right but you got also think it's also the tip so johnny are you up there no one fits up there

nobody i'm here yeah what do you store up there it's for the boxes the christmas boxes because i obviously have 20 christmas boxes because i'm about the christmas i love christmas i love christmas do you know that. Well, last year I made, I had to push Cassian up a little bit so he could reach the favours box back. So, I can't fit. You're having Christmas on 27th, didn't you? Yeah. But that's exciting. Yeah, but it's also like, James got his party disco, disco, disco, on that day as well, so I can't go. Yeah, I know, because you've got the kids back. I know. They're like, no, they're like, no, they're like, can't you just fuck those kids off and you're like, no. No. No. It's our Christmas.

It is actually my Christmas. No, fine. So yeah. They are more important. Like, I will give you that. The kids. Yeah. Yeah.

Right, let's go. My wife won't stop eating roadkill. Fair play. I mean, it's free. Well, it is. Ugh. Yeah, there's like another American thing. Filth.

I put my phone down and looked to my left. My wife. wife wasn't in bed. She was always there when I woke up. That that makes sense. Yes, it does. Well, I put my phone down and looked to my left. My wife wasn't in bed. She was always there when I woke up. What, you're waking up with your phone in your own? All right, yeah, I suppose. You're analysing it, but I know what it meant. Oh, maybe, maybe he woke up, looked at his phone, put it down and she wasn't there. We'll go with that. Does that help? Because that would make more sense. We'll pretend that's what you meant.

Okay. Then I saw her huddled up in the corner of the room, crouched over with her back to me. Babe, what are you doing? I asked, I asked with a chuckle. Crunch. Are you eating something? I asked. She didn't respond. She just stayed in the corner. I got up out of bed and walked over. I grabbed her shoulder and pulled her back slightly so I could see what she. she was eating. What are you eating? She turned her head towards me, twisted her neck violently. Her eyes were dilated and bloodshot. Eyes that glowed faintly, not with light, but as if infecting a fire that isn't there. There was blood all over her grinning mouth and and full cheeks, dripping down her chin, neck and chest. Her long arms and legs were covered in dirt like she'd been,

she'd dig herself out of a grave. She stank of rotten flesh, the air around her curdled with a stink like raw meat left in the sun, sour and sweet at once, clinging to the back of my throat until my stomach lurched. she held in her blood-soaked hands the carcass of a decomposing raccoon when sorry I burnt oh it was a good time in it was a bit like when I say rotting I mean fully decomposing it must have been

dead for days Wendy what are you doing I screamed sorry I wasn't screaming Wendy, what are you doing? I screamed. Falling backwards onto the floor. She stared at me like a wolf preying on a lamb. She looked angry, startled and hungry. She shook her head. I don't know what that says.

Masali. I don't know what it says. She shook her head, blinking hard and fast. She dropped the raccoon and began to cry. Jack, I, I don't know what's happening to me. You're possess. She whimpered, sobbing uncontrollably. I could, I could tell this wasn't my wife.

Her voice sounded off. She must be, Jack, she must be going, this was scary, fuck it, sorry, sorry. She must be going through a psychotic episode. No person would do this. I had to get a help, medical help. I rushed to my phone and called 911.

I asked for an ambulance immediately. When this first happened, I thought it had been, had to be a mental breakdown. I had my wife voluntarily, sorry, admitted to a psychiatric ward for 72 hours. I had marriage. I had married my high school sweetheart after graduation. She brought a house. We brought a house with help from our parents. Somebody brought a house.

I got a job in construction and she got a job as a receptionist at a vet. We were living in an American dream. Well, like with all dreams, I suppose, eventually you have to wake up. One week ago, I woke up to my wife doing that. I woke up this morning and looked at my phone. It was 5.15 a.m. I had woken up earlier than usual. My parents had text a picture of their new dog to the family group chat. Oh my gosh, she's going to eat there. There was also an amber alert. My neighbour, a single mother, had reported her kid missing. The dad was a real deadbeat and the prime suspect.

After I got a taxi back from the hospital, I decided to clean everything up straight away. I came home to see crows gathering on our rooftop. I scrubbed the blood out of the carpet with white vinegar and put what was left of the raccoon in the trash bag. I put it in the trash can outside. I didn't know how else you were supposed to dispose of half-eaten roadkill. Where had she even found it? On the rows? I worked early shifts starting at 7am and finished around 4.

My wife worked 9 to 5 at the vet. Two or three days a week. She often changed those days around. We didn't mind. We made enough money and she liked being home. I kept thinking about where she'd found the raccoon. Had she really wandered the side of the road and picked it up? Then I remembered the crawl space.

Oh my God, not another one. My, Americans! I hadn't been down there ever. I was the claustrophobic type. I opened the hatch and shined my flashlight down. onto the dirt there were small drops of blood the raccoon must have died down there and she found it but why would she'd be looking in the crawl space i climbed down and the smell hit me that same stench of rotten fruit it was that same sweet sour stench again like fruit gone to liquor and meat gone to maggots

a smell that fell alive and crawling. It was so strong I heaved and puked onto the dirt. I aimed a flashlight deeper into the darkness and saw something that's been hunting me ever since. There was a mountain, not a pile, not a few, a mountain of rodents and animals in the corner of the crawl space. They were all dead. Some still fresh, others not, nothing but bone.

It wasn't just raccoons, it was everything. Pigeons, foxes, rats, mice, hamsters, gerbils, cats, dogs, even a deer. Some I couldn't even recognise anymore. Some were almost whole. Some looked stripped clean, but a few looked like the raccoon from earlier, half eaten. fuck I passed out only briefly when I came to I had a pounding headache and a dry mouth my body was shaking I vomited again I had to get out I crawled out as fast as I could and ran into the backyard where I threw up a few more times how had this how had she

collected all of that why was she doing this there's being unwell and then there's whatever that was. I went to my parents' house and stayed in my old room. I told them everything. They were horrified, but tried to stay calm. The next day my dad came with me to the house to clean the cruel space. It was the worst thing either of us had ever done, but we got through it. Nope. One of the carcasses didn't look like the others. It looked like it had been sucked on for days. The bones were almost clean. For a second, I thought it looked like a baby, but I told myself that was impossible. The bones were too broken and scattered to tell. They realized Wendy sent, realized, they released Wendy 72 hours later. The psychiatric,

sorry, it's me. The psychiatrist called it a brief psychiatric. psychotic episode triggered by stress. I didn't agree. I wanted to believe it. When she came home, she seemed like herself again. Warm, quiet, a little tired. She apologized for everything and said she didn't remember any of it. I told her it wasn't her fault. That's what you do when you love someone. You pretend everything's okay. For the next couple of days, it would, She cooked, cleaned, went back to work, we ate dinner together. My mum and dad's dog had run away. They were devastated.

My neighbour's kids still hadn't shown up. She stopped going to work. She said she had a fight with her boss and that she would just get another job. She stopped seeing her doctor for the outpatient treatment plan. She said she was fine and that it's time we move past the whole thing. Then the little thing started to change. She stopped buying meat from the store, said it was too expensive.

She stopped using the oven and started cooking late at night when I was asleep. Sometimes when I came downstairs for water, she'd be sitting at the table in the dark, just sitting there, breathing slow and heavy like she'd been running. then the smell came back the same sweet rotten fruit stench it clung to her clothes her hair her breath when i asked about it she said maybe it was the drains but drains don't leave muddy poor prints by the back door last night i woke up to a noise outside something dragging across the grass oh mate i looked out the window and saw Wendy barefoot walking down the driveway in her nightgown. She was holding a trash bag.

I followed her quietly, half terrified, half furious. She crossed the road and disappeared behind the tree line. Her silhouette looked so jaunt, giant. I don't know what it says either. Gaunt. Gant. Go on. Anyway.

When I caught up, she was crouched. over something. I'll never forget the sound, the tearing, the chewing. I shouted her name and she looked up at me. Her mouth was red. Her teeth slick. Her eyes wide like a child

caught doing something wrong. It's fresh, she whispered. I didn't want it to go to waste. I saw what was in front of her. It wasn't an animal. I couldn't believe it. She started crying, but not tears, but

No tears run from her eyes now. This time her eyes and this time her eyes and painfully wide grin stayed the same. Jack, I was just hungry. That's all, baby. Yeah, the woman's fucking possessed

by a demon, like a real life possession demon thing. She's been collecting carcasses. She's eating your mum's dog and the neighbour's child. and you're like making excuses. Throw the whole bitch away. Huh?

I'd lock her in the coral space and be like, you've got enough food to keep you going. Bitch. Nope. Nope. I ain't having it. No, not happy about this one.

No. It's disgusting. What do you think about it? I mean, I only picked it because at the top it says animal abuse and I thought you loved that. But it's not roadkill, though. Why are named it roadkill?

She's clearly getting animals, killing them and eating them. I mean, she works in a fucking vet. The weird thing is, she had like a whole stash of different animals. She's definitely, definitely demonic possessed. Definitely possessed by demons. No, she is possessed by demons. What is that called when you eat raw meat? What is that?

Uh, skankiness. I think there's a natural word. Raw meat diet. That's what it is. Just chuck the whole fucking bitch away. I do know that some people in, I want it again, America, it's not necessarily just America,

but I do know that sometimes people do scavenge and get the roadkill because it saves them lots of money. Don't have a problem with that because I'm assuming they're cooking it. Pop-pop. Is that what it's called? Have you ever tried squirrel?

No. I'm assuming Isn't a hog pop A hedgehog I don't know I've never eaten hedgehog No no or I I just

I don't have a problem with that I have a massive problem With this demon bitch Like she is clearly persist And if you're not careful She's gonna eat you Think you'd be a bit judgy there Yeah

Is there a top comment I mean there is Go on Oh where's it gone Oh bitch Oh bitch It was because she's busy eating Your mum

Not my mum. Not my mum. So the top comment was, I'm going to bath. Literally. Then someone says, poor girl. More importantly, is it going around? If so, need to start out the neighbours. And then OP replied to it saying, a lot missing pet posters are up around my neighbourhood recently.

Is they in your basement? But I'm not sure they're struggling with my wife's condo. Why didn't when he found the whole basement of horror, ringed the psychiatric ward and say bitches be crazy, I've just found a whole forest of animals

in my crawl space. She's clearly very unwell and call the pathology team and be like, I'm not sure if there's also human remains down here. I wouldn't let her anywhere near me, would you? No. Come round!

Come round. No fakes. Yeah, but she was cooking dinner. Yeah, she stopped buying me. And then it would be a Jeffrey Dahmer. I'm not eating that. I'm not eating that. Don't you lad me?

I'm not eating that. Because it's fucking somebody. I am not eating that. Yeah. No, no, no. Yeah. It's a no. No, thanks. I've just eaten.

Right. Moving on to the next terrible one. I think. I'm on a train to hell. Come on. So do we. Honestly. It was a normal night like any other.

I spent the day with my friends getting our nails done before she left for England to visit a long distance boyfriend. I saw some friends and hung out way too late before one of them offered to drop me to the train station so I wouldn't have to walk. This late at night, the station was like a ghost town. with just a few people nursing bottles held in brown paper bags. I made my way into the train station looking for the correct platform. But there were so many. It looked like the station stretched off into the distance. They hadn't been there.

They hadn't been that many platforms when I had arrived earlier in the day. My anxiety really ramped up when the screen wasn't working, they didn't show where the trains were or where they were coming from or where they were going to from any of the platforms. I brushed it off since I already am an anxious person. I figured I'm just confusing myself. So I chose the platform I thought that I had come in on and asked the conductor of another train company if I was on the wrong. platform. He said I was, but my train was unusually late. He told me to go to the other platform across the way if my train didn't show up within 10 minutes before each departure time. A few minutes after that train left, my train arrived. The door's open so I figure I could go and sit down early before anyone else showed up. It stuck me as odd that I didn't see anyone leave the train, but I just figured that nobody was in this particular train cart

coming out of these Pacific doors, too late for anyone working and too early for anyone coming home from the bars. I made my way up the stairs to the second level, sat down next to one of those screens holding it hoping it would tell me if and where i am on my journey but it was blue screens with the words he's dead jim oh going across the screen star trek literally i i along with some other font that was too small for me to read without my glasses it was weird but i thought i could just listen to the loud speaker and actually pay attention to figure out where I was. My phone had no service underground in the subway, so it was just an expensive paperweight at this point. My train began to move, but the voice over the speaker was wrong.

Demonic, one might say, full of random beeps and bleeps. I brushed the worry off and started looking out of the window watching for the station signs as we start to pass by none did it was all just a blur of darkness outside of the window shit i heard the speaker come on again and i heard noises my eardrums before the transmission ended in a hiss and then a scent of chills down my spine I could hear someone laughing in the distance, but it sounded wrong. Rather than being full of myth, it sounded panicked, the way someone laughs when they're very nervous. This was when I began to truly realise that something was off. I looked around trying to catch a glimpse of other passengers, mostly to see if any of them looked as freaked out as I felt.

The train car was mostly empty at this point, but I could see a woman with tears streaming down her face whilst she smiled. A man staring very intently at the wall with some dark substance slowly dripping down the back of his neck from under his baseball cap. It was in this moment that I knew I had fucked up. A girl walked by me, long black hair, completely covered her face. and she wasn't wearing any shoes, she trailed this thick black streaks with each step she took. More people had started filing in at this point, but we hadn't made any stops yet. I didn't know where they were coming from. A man walked in and sat down across from me.

His eyes were particularly glued to his phone, but when he looked up to see the passengers around us, stuck he was startled a pitful squeak left his lips causing everyone else on the train to turn towards him he was staring at someone down the train who i couldn't see and it's panic sob started to escape his lips he managed to choke out her eyes what the fuck is wrong with her eyes i didn't know what to do i simply made eye contact with him and tried to tell him to stop by shaking my head. To tell him not to draw attention to us. The passengers didn't stop staring at him until a conductor with a strong stench of decay and burning plastic showed up and led him away. He didn't fight it. Just let the, just let the conductor drag him away while seamlessly frozen in fear.

So now I'm sitting here trying to control my face and not let on that I shouldn't be here. I can hear voices further down the train almost like whispers that I can't quite make out. They have to be other normal people on this train. There's plenty that look normal but they all seem unfazed by what's going on around us. I'm scared and now that I'm on the train I don't think that it's taking me home. that's it did you like it you liked it

you want to go on that train I don't want to get on that train I mean the guy that sent her to catch on that yeah no I'm not alright with it I don't feel like you're right with any of them and I don't like scary shit and I wouldn't be alright with that

but it does terrify me imagine getting on the train and being like I think getting on train at night is scary anyway Unless you have your mates And yeah You know even when like you're with your mates And there's no one else really in your car

And then someone's walking down There's still that bit of a I never feel like that Moment of oh someone's coming down Not when I'm with people I'm fine And you know you're looking out the window And you can't see anything out there

Just your own reflection I don't like that Because I go My head goes into so Ellie mode and then I'm like, can I see reflections like behind me and shit like that because I get scared. Probably like that one there. Oh fuck off.

Right there. No issue. Hi. Um, top comment. Go on. Why not go to the end of the train where the train operator cabin is? Where there's nobody driving the train. Can you hide?

You'll want to stay on the train when it goes back. The train stop. Oh, O.P. does respond. the train stop moving I can't see outside yet but I'm going to try and act like everyone else so they don't suspect it anyway it looks like I've got some spotty service since the train stopped I'm sure I feel alive but maybe I'm dead love it I enjoyed that one nice do do do do do last one is so long but it's i really liked it it's like that you remember that last

halloween but it went on and on and i cut out a whole pair of cough so i was like it's got it's just not ending that's what my next one's like it's still going like literally it's never gonna finish okay this one is a little bit shorter and then my last one so is that a lot longer yeah sweet so i got a job as a security guard at a lab the only rule is to not is to let no one in or out well yeah that's generally or out yes fair play they should stay there and do their jobs fucking slackers slackers i was anxious about my first day on the job i didn't want to screw things up again like i did at the last one dr mary had hired me for a simple position with good pay.

I'd be the night security guard for her private lab. It was located just outside town in an area full of abandoned buildings, the kind of place where you'd expect no one to ask questions. I arrived at 7pm sharp and she was waiting in the front of the door. The rules are simple, she said. Her tone stripped. And I suggest you write them down. because we have had issues with the previous guard.

No one enters the labs unless I'm here and no one leaves either. The last part caught my attention but before I could ask why she continued. I hired you because I know you'll do what's necessary to follow my instructions, right? There was something in her eyes that made me understand why I've been given this chance.

No one in their own. right mind hires an ex-convict as a guard unless the job requires special care. Understood, I said quickly, no one in or out without you here. Dr. Mary gave a faint, satisfied smile and went on to show me the rest of the facility. It reminded me of the infirmary back in prison. The lab had a main hall with three side doors beside the exit. One led to a small break room, another to the security office where I'd spend most of my shift, and the last protected by a badged reader. Badger. Oh, badge reader. Yeah, those badge reader things. I get it. Opened to the experiment chamber where she

and her two assistants went in and out during the day. Before leaving, she told me that room was the most important one. I wasn't allowed inside, but I was to guard it at all costs. The first few hours of my shift passed quickly. I watched the exterior cameras checking the empty streets outside trying to figure out why she was so strict. But there was nothing unusual. That neighbourhood was particularly dead and the only vehicle I saw all night was a garbage truck. Once I relaxed, I spent the rest of my shift playing some stupid phone game. It wasn't until around 4 in the morning that something strange happened. I left the security room to grab a snack from the break room but as I crossed the main hall right in front of the experiment chamber door

I heard a sound a low wet grunt it paused then started again slow and irregular it went on for several minutes before fading away completely at seven sharp dr mary's car pulled up I grabbed my staff and met her by the entrance she asked if anything unusual had happened, I told her no. Whatever sound came from that room wasn't my problem. As I got into my car to finally head home, another vehicle arrived. Not the assistance, but a large man came out of it. Clothes covered in dirt. Dr. Mary opened the door for him, and he went inside carrying several black plastic bags. The next few days followed the same routine, except I started paying closer attention to the sounds coming from that room.

There were two or maybe three voices, not talking exactly, more like moaning in pain. It got under my skin. I even started wondering what had happened to the last guard. I found a small notebook under one of the monitors in the security room with his name on it, Adam. How was your night? Mary asked every morning. Same cold tone. Nothing unusual, I replied never mentioning the voices. Each morning ended the same way, me leaving and that dirt covered man arriving, always with more black bags.

I kept wondering what kind of research required to live. like that. But two weeks later, something finally happened. That night, like always, I pressed my ear against the metal door, trying to make out the voices. But between the groans, I heard a full sentence for the first time, like a whisper from someone in agony. Kill me. It repeated again and again. Kill me. and couldn't sleep. Something was very wrong inside that place. The name of the previous guard, Adam, something, stuck in my mind.

So I decided to look him up. It didn't take long before I found a Facebook profile that matched. Same city, same line of work, private security. I clicked on his page to see more. But what caught my eye were the last few posts tagging him or from a woman with his last name. Missing Father of Two. Last scene, heading to Walmart near the highway.

If you have any information, please contact the number below. I leaned back from my screen, a chill running down my arms. Could his disappearance have anything to do with the lab? I spent the rest of the day digging through whatever I could find about both Adam and Dr. Mary. She had once been a tendered professor of medicine at an Ivy League university with dozens of publications in experimental medicine. But after a certain year, her name vanished from every record I could find. But the time I drove back to the lab that night, my mind was racing. I was still turning those thoughts over when my phone started vibrating.

Are you on your way? Dr. Mary's voice sounded strained. There's been an emergency. I'm one block away, I told her. When I pulled up to the lab, she was standing outside, furious, yelling at her two assistants. One of them ran, she said sharply, as soon as she saw me. Who ran? I asked. One of the subjects, she snapped, just go, bring it back. She pointed towards the alley behind the lab,

a narrow path that led into a stretch of abandoned lots. I followed that way, flashlight in hand, noticing a trail on the ground, red, brown, yellow, streaks of something that looked halfway between blood and chemical residue. My steps quickened, though part of me, wanted to turn back. Near the edge of the property, I saw the subject lying on the ground, trembling. When I got closer, my eyes struggled to make sense of it. It was shaped like a man, thick legs, a narrow torso, and arms that didn't match in colour or texture. The skin was

a patchwork of tones. His head pale and swollen was attached to her neck with a mess of stitches and wire. One eye was milky white. The other turned towards me. I froze. The face, grey and slack, was Adams. For a few seconds, he just stared, his mouth twitching, trying to form words. And then they came. Kill me. Kill me. fucking hell it's like Frankenstein that's what reminds me of a little bit do you know what I mean

like they're grabbing different parks different people and then building a fucking a person yeah I liked it so there is this is there's series of this yeah but obviously I'm only just picking

the one you're to get you excited top comment um so the top is from No Sleep Autobot which is basically saying that looks like this story continues clicking to come back later

it is a good story but it says Dr Mary as in Mary Shelley and Adam as in name Frankenstein's creation gave himself that plus the patchwork imaginary

of Adam shows your inspiration great stuff need more. Yeah. It was good. I liked it. Funny that gave Frankenstein to me. Have you ever watched the film on Frankenstein? Not the old one, the newer one. I can't, it's Frankenstein's monster, whatever it is. It's very good actually. Because obviously when we grew up, Frankenstein terrified terrified of Frankenstein, but that is just not what it is. So I really enjoyed Frankenstein's monster. But I like a weird shit like that.

Right, here I go. I'm finishing with this. I inherited my grandpa's house. He left me a note about the door. I need to guard it in the attic. Hello, everyone. I'm not sure how to explain what's happening here, but I will try.

It started a few months ago, the day my grandpa died, I'd been through funerals to know the rhythm, black clothes, condolences, the heavy air of the funeral. It was all too familiar. That day, I learned my grandpa had left his house to me, but he had left me something else too. A plain white envelope with just two words scribbled on the front, read carefully. Inside was a note that would change my life. It read, to my grandson, Nathan, if you're reading this, it means that I have failed and that I am no longer here to see you, become the man that I always hoped that you would. There's something that you need to know about our family, something that I have kept from you your whole life to protect you.

You've inherited more than just a house. You've inherited a family secret. There's a door upstairs in the attic that sits in the middle of the room. You haven't seen it yet, but you will. It's a door that chooses to show itself to you and once it's done, your life will never be the same again. It only appears to the men in our bloodline. I couldn't explain it to your grandmother or your mother. They thought I was crazy because they could never see it like I could. I managed to keep the door locked away for over 60 years so that your father could raise you and give you the childhood that I never could give him. Every night of my life was spent standing in front of the door and making sure that it stayed closed because if no one was watching, it opens.

It can't ever open. That's why the next part is so important. to heed these rules no matter what. Number one, do not open the door no matter what you hear. Number two, you must be standing or sitting in front of the door. You cannot be more than 10 meters away. Number three, when your voice, when you hear voices behind the door, don't speak. Do not respond. Number four, do not close your eyes unless you want to open. open them again. Number five, always remain at your post. You can sleep when the sun rises. There will be more and when they appear you need to be ready. The door is always watching and learning

you. Your resolve will be tested. I won't sugarcoat things. If you fail, you will die. That can't happen. For if the door is left unattended and unguarded, the world is in great danger. I hope you are stronger than I ever was, Nathan. I believe in you. Good luck. Love Grandpa Bill. The note shook me to my core. I've always looked up to my grandpa. He was the last real connection to my parents, both whom had died in a housefire when I was 17. I never got to say goodbye and I never had closure. My grandmother passed a year later and after that I was left with a few distant relatives who barely remembered that I existed. But Grandpa, he made me feel like I still belong somewhere, like I hadn't been completely forgotten. Losing him felt like losing the last piece of myself that still remembered what home meant.

For a while, I didn't even want to be in the house, the memories, the silence, it all felt so wrong. But I had to be strong just like he would have wanted. I couldn't let the door win. I moved into the house immediately and that night it was my duty and it began. As soon as the sun went down, I took my grandpa's notes and me and went upstairs to the attic. When I reached the top of the stairs, I'd laid eyes upon the door for the first time. It stood in the middle of the room and it was red wood wrapped with stony faintness in the moonlight from a small window nearby. Scratches ran across the surface deep like something had tried to claw its way out or something like that.

I sat a few feet away, not daring to get close, it just stood there, silent still for now. But I couldn't shape the question that lingered in the back of my mind. Why was my family given such a task? The longer I stared at the door, the more it felt like staring into an answer that I didn't want. The silence pressed against me thick and wanting. Nothing happened for the first few hours. but a little after midlight, I heard a knock. At first I thought that I might be imagining things,

but then I heard it again. The first time it was loud, heavy, unmistakable, coming from the door in front of me. I fell backwards and watched the door shake, how hard the knocking had become. Eventually, the knocking stopped, but the air was moving. It wasn't wind, it was slow, warm, and it had rhythm. The door was breathing. Each bump, soul, exhale, brushed my face. The smell of decay curling round like smoke. I backed up but remember not to go too far from the door. I didn't say a word or move until the sun came up. When the light finally touched the door, it stopped breathing. That's how it was for the first week. Life outside the attic felt paper thin.

The price of a routine, I was still learning to survive. My co-workers started to notice the dark circles around my eyes, the zoning out during meetings, the way I flinched when someone tapped me on the shoulder. One of them joked that I looked like I was living in a haunted house. I laughed, but I didn't connect or correct them. I burned dinner twice, forgot my neighbour's name. when we crossed paths and nearly drifted off behind the wheel at a red light. Then the sound started to follow me.

The fridge hummed downstairs, it began to sound like chattering teeth. My reflection lingered longer, a little longer than it should have. Sometimes I catch myself whispering the rules, not to remember them but to convince myself that the door was still there and that I had to believe in them. It felt like a part, like a ritual. I couldn't escape. With every rule that it grew heavier.

They stopped feeling like protection and started feeling like change. Chains, not change. Everything real was starting to feel fake. And the only thing that felt real were the voices and the door. Day after day, night after night. night my life split in two, one under the sun, the other in the dark. By day, I was just in the exhausted office drone. By night, I was the gatekeeper. Work eight to five, eat sleep if I can,

climb the stairs, watch the door until sunrise and repeat. Every night blurred into the next, time itself felt like another rule I had to obey. I almost started to believe the door, would never change. On the eighth night, I heard a voice behind the door speak to me for the first time. Do not be afraid. It didn't sound threatening. In fact, it had a gentle tone and only made it all the more disturbing. I remember walking up to the door and standing in front of it, my pulse electric as my body shivered slightly. A part of me wanted to open the door. and put a name to the voice, but I remembered my grandpa's note. Do not be afraid, it said again, softer this time.

I followed the fur rule, listen without answering. So I stood there shaking, listening to that voice. As the hours dragged on, I kept thinking about how my grandpa sat at the attic every night. Did he deal with the same thing I am dealing with? How did he deal with listening to the voice? myself questions is how I would pass the time watching the door in the dark. It kept my mind sharp during the motionless ritual of watching the door from sundown to sunrise. That's what it was like for about a week. Routine had almost made the horror feel ordinary and that's when it decided

to change the rules. Right before I went upstairs one night, I saw it another line on my grandpa Hart's note that hadn't been there before. In frantic handwriting, it said six. If it cries, ignore it. From now on, each night only got worse. The crying started around 1am and it was the kind of crying a wounded animal made. I wanted to help anything to make the crying stop. I almost whispered, are you okay? But the rule was clear. Ignore it. So I did. In response, the floorboards near the door had darkened and the air around it similar, like heat. Whenever whatever was behind the door, it wasn't just growing stronger, it was changing the world around it. I could feel it.

I noticed it more and more each night. And then as if it sensed my fear, the rules changed again. A couple of weeks later, before I made my way, upstairs I noticed that there was some new lines that had been written on the notepad number seven it will show you things do not believe them number eight it will tell you your future but it's all lies the ink looked fresh this time like some someone or something had written them just moments before I was making my way upstairs they didn't make sense to me not

until the door made me understand. It didn't scream or cry like it had before. Instead, it spoke calmly about the things awaiting me in my future. You're going to become head. You're going to become head of your department, Nathan. You're fall in love and you will have free children. Ellis, Michael and John. The names encroached in my head like they belonged there all along. Ellis will have your eyes. John will want to be a pharmacist like your grandmother. My eyes burns as tears threatened to fall. They're all live happy, happy lives, unless you keep me in here.

For a second, my body actually moved. I felt my weight shift forward like some part of me had already made the decision. I picture my future the way it described warm, bright, full of light and laughter. I wanted it. God, I wanted it so bad. But I saw through the lies and I had hope. I remembered my grandpa's handwriting again, warning me of the consequences that forced myself to step back. What had once been calm telling me things about. myself about my future, about promises that were too good to be true, became violent and

almost disturbing. With each sob and scream, the door groaned in a sickening rhythm, barely containing whatever was beneath behind it. I covered my ears, begging for the noise to stop. After a few minutes it did. For a moment, I thought I had earned the silence. But silence I learned was just the calm before something worse. The door cracked, began twisting upwards, sick crutches, the wood shifting to form the sharp dozens of them. They were mumbering the stories of peaceful life waiting for me. If only, I would just open the door. Its words filled the darkness and shadows moved all around in shapes I recognise. My grandpa appeared next to me, but not the one I saw in the casket at the funeral, but a youthful one from old photos.

Grandson, he whispered in a voice that almost sounded like his. I didn't speak, I couldn't, even though I wanted to so badly. My dad waved at me and told me how proud of. was of me. My mum smiled for me to open the door so she could be reunited with her family. I leaned in front of the door, my hand on the knob, about to turn it when I saw something blink in the keyhole. It was an eye, black and moist, sliding sideways, watching me refusing to blink. I stumbled back and the whispering stopped. The silence felt heavier than the noise, but even in the stillness, something was shifting. I used the flashlight on my phone to keep everything from nodding off in the early hours of the morning.

Something around 2.30 a.m., I noticed the shadow starting to pulsate against the light. Every few seconds, the door would stiffen the surface bright from the light. the inside out, glowing faintly like there was something behind it, pressing its face against the woods. The image along was enough to make me sit in the darkness for the rest of the night until the sun came in the morning. Every night I felt myself unravel a little more. My faults, my faults weren't just mine anymore. They had a different voice. The door wasn't just just trying to break through, it was trying to break in, as if it wanted to listen closer to what I had to say. Maybe that's why the rules kept getting more difficult each night. It knew my

faults before I did. Before I went upstairs one night, I found two new rules written in the same steam, but this time on the bathroom mirror. They read nine. It will try to bargain. do not accept. 10. Do not believe the sounds you will hear. It will do anything to make you leave your post. I thought I understood the roles until the early hours of that morning when it didn't knock but started to bang profusely. Nathan, let me out. Please, just once. I can make it stop. but I wasn't hearing just the voices at the door I was hearing screams of my parents they were gut-wrenching as they were familiar and I heard them coming from downstairs then outside then under the floorboards at a moment later I smelt smoke it was faint at first

but the smell of burnt wood and melting plastic filled the air I nearly bolted downstairs, my body ready to run and save them, but then I remembered the rules telling me not to believe the sounds and the smells that I hear. The door was toying with me, digging into the deepest trauma it could. I clenched my fist and stared at the door, unmoving. It spoke in my mum's voice. Then my dad's, then my grandpas, sometimes waving all three of them, into seamless haunting sentences. Then it spoke in my voice in the same trembled that I had heard in my heads myself every night since moving in. Please let me out. Let me out. I just want out. Frozen in place until the early hours of the morning, my body screamed for a break,

even just relief of closing my eyes. I was losing focus fast, the kind of fatigue that makes your eyes twitch just to stay open. I had to do something. I was desperate. A way too thick and no idea what that means. Anyway, hoping to cheat the rules. I angled a mirror across from me. One eye could rest while the other kept watching for the time it worked until my reflection shifted in the mirror. The door stood wide open. Something, oh my God, something was there on all fours, grey-skinned scale, broken, cracking with each movement. It hurled towards me, not in curiosity, form like it was partly human. I snapped my eyes to the real door. The real door was still shut tight, breathing. When I looked back, the mirror was empty except for five wet fingerprints

smeared downwards like someone had leaned against it from the inside. I sat there for a long time after that. But I couldn't bring myself to light and look at another mirror. I kept thinking about my grandpa standing in the same spot for 60 years. His eyes fixed at the same door, watching it breathe in and out. Did he ever think about just walking away? I think about leaving every single night. I think about the stairs behind me, about the sunlight, about sleep. But then I remember my grandpa had asked this of me. My responsibility was to keep the door closed to keep me here. When morning came, I didn't remember falling asleep.

I only remember the mirror and the way those fingerprints stained it. To drown the noise out, I fixed on one impossible question, How did Grandpa carry the burden for decades? The more I thought about it, the more that I feared the real answer, maybe he didn't. For a while, nothing really changed outside of the routine, knocking the voices, the pleading, the banging on the door. That is until more rules started to appear on paper. 11. A single moment is all the time.

that it needs. Do not falter. 12. Do not fall asleep in front of the door. At this point, I was delusional and running just on pumes. I could barely stay awake at work and I was averaging maybe one to two hours sleep a night. That's only as much coffee and energy drinks can one person do before they stop working effectively. There was one insight where my eyes almost fluttered shut and I swear I felt something brush against my cheek. The knocking started again but it wasn't coming from the door anymore. It was coming from behind me. I span around nearly tripping over the lantern then the walls, the windows and even the ceiling above me all encroached with the knocking sound. The door would shake, the voices would scream. I'd see my loved ones begging for me to open that

door, but I wouldn't. The voice behind me, the door would speak things to me like, don't be afraid, open the door, Nathan, and I will make it all stop. I ignored it. At around 3 a.m., my phone started ringing from across the floorboards. The scream said, Grandpa. Seeing his smiling face on the screen shattered something inside of me because I knew that he was dead. Despite the feeling in my gut telling me not to, I answered. Nothing about the rule said that I couldn't take my phone. Nathan, he's voiced crackily on the phone through the phone. You've done enough, my boy. Let me take your place. Go downstairs and rest now. My thumb hung over the screen, my heart throbbing as I remembered the other voice, the lies. I ended the call. The phone rung non-stop until sunrise. Hours later,

a new rule appeared, one that nearly broke me. It said, at 13, eventually you will fail. Fight it off for as long as you can. I read this line over and over until the ink blurred. The words didn't feel like a warning anymore. They felt like a countdown. Not just because, of what they said, but because of what it didn't. Maybe this is what Grandpa meant. Maybe failure isn't about opening the door. It's about how long you can last before you want to. I don't know how much longer I can keep it up.

The last few nights I've been hearing slow footsteps behind the door and the floorboards crackling in the time of my own heartbeat. beat. I keep telling myself, none of this is real, that I'm still the one in control, but the longer I watch, the more I notice the door wasn't where it used to be. Last week, I marked the position on the floor with painter's tape to the slightest border so it wouldn't cross. I checked last night and the tape is gone and the door has moved. It has only... moved just a few inches at first and it made me think that maybe I was imagining it. After all, I was running on empty in terms of sleep. But night after night, it kept encroaching

closer. I didn't drag or check. It just shifted like it wanted to be closer to me. I measured the gap 10 feet, then 8, then 6 and then I've stopped checking after that. The space between us is shrinking and I swear I could feel the heart of it breathing in my face. Sometimes the floorboards shriek a little breathe in and out like they're passing down to me. Whatever was behind it was coming for me. This discovery led to another rule appearing. 14. No matter how close the door gets to you, do not touch it. I didn't plan to. I was just tired and I'm trying to plan something, anything, just to keep myself awake. Last night, I swear, I saw something moved beneath the wood like a hand pressing out of it. I think my grandpa, 60 years only brought

us time and now the time is almost gone. He kept whatever the thing was locked away for decades and now it's my turn. One day it will become somebody else's. I don't want them to suffer like I am. It's not fair. My hands won't stop trembling. I haven't slept in days. I started hallucinating. At least I hope that's hallucinations. I swear I saw the attic walls breathe. last night. I wonder if the door is even real. Maybe I've lost my mind. I'm trapped in a psychic ward, mumbling whilst unseen eyes, watch me through glass. I can hear them all, my parents, grandpa, myself. They all speak from behind the door and the longer I listen, the more the words sound like truth. A new rule has appeared, carved deeply into the attic floor

this time. 15. When your eyes closed for the last time, the door will open from the inside. I don't know if I'm projecting this world from what's behind the door or if I'm looking after it. So I can't escape, but it can't escape also. Maybe that's what Grandpa meant when he said that he had failed, not that he had lost, but that he finally understood what he was guarding. And yet he kept watching. So now I do too. There's one rule grandpa never wrote. If the door never stops whispering, it means it's already one. My parents call to me now. And now another rule, 16. You'll never forget what side of the door you're on. If Grandma could still see me now, I hope he knows I've tried. The latch just turned. Did you like that one? Yeah, did. I thought it was great. What do you want to say about?

I don't know. Like, I've got some questions. Yeah. It's like this. It's just a lot. I don't know if I'll be able to answer. A hovering door in the middle of her own. What do you think it is? You think it's like the door to hell? I don't know. It just reminded me of like Monsters Inc. Oh yeah.

But that was nice story. I don't know. Monsters come through to scare the kids. Yeah, because they've been tricked into thinking the screams give them energy when laughter gives them more. That's the purpose of Monsters Inc. Yeah, I understand that. But that, you know, the random door, ancientry thing.

I liked it because I feel like it's like but the secret to the universe or something like this family is keeping us all

from dying you know what I mean that's worse yeah well yeah we don't know we don't know if the handle's turning

from the inside you wouldn't it's an impossibility to stay awake for that amount of time I mean you'd have to quit your job yeah and if they told the government

listen if I don't do this we're all going to die then surely they'd pay him to stay at home. Why hasn't he burnt the door? I know it only appears to the man, but that means that gives him the family. If you burn the door, then you're burning what's behind the door

and it can freely leave. It doesn't sound like fire is a problem for whatever entities are behind this door. Glue it shut. Glue it shut. Yeah, I don't think that's going to help. So top comment, if you own the house,

Why not reduce your work hours down to the bare minimum necessary for you, utilities, food, etc. And get more sleep. Obviously, standing guard is way more important than having extra cash. Cash. Cash. So you need to maximise the daytime naps and sleep. So you allow yourself to be strong. Love all you can get all the solutions, but no one else is living it.

I'm sleeping during my breaks. This is soaping. hell I'm sleeping whenever I can really I'm doing my best to juggle my responsibilities to both my job and my bloodline I try and figure out a work from home situation or a side hustle but I need all the money I can get

why the world is ended mate the minute you fall asleep we're all dead is that what's what I said yeah no that's what I just said yeah I have so many questions this is you if it will open from the inside, are you really keeping it closed? O.P. I'm not sure if the door is saying that to mess with

me or if they would generally open it from the inside. There's so much mystery surrounding this thing and I'm still trying to figure it all out as much as everyone else here. I'm doing my best to understand. What I find interesting is the granddad watched it for 60 years but he hasn't told him what the door is how did the grandpa know that whatever's behind the door is evil I don't know how have we why have we decided it's evil right and I ain't gonna open the door to find out I wouldn't but if someone was like oh uh sorry your parents have died at L but now your responsibility is to watch this door yeah but if you're watching this door I mean I don't know why I got a mirror involved what an idiot but

you know in that mirror something's now fucking run at him yeah thank you but my point is if someone's like oh you you've got to watch this door until you die

watching this door I'd be like what's behind the door because if you're not telling me this information I'm not watching the door not watching the door you're not

not watching the door unless you tell me why I'm watching the other door and you've got no information on that but you're doing it yeah because that is why part of going to colleges well this is what part of you know the hard your heritage you can't just tell me you must watch the door to death do you part you might not want to do it and what I wouldn't want it how did the grandpa find someone to love Mary have kids

me if he spent from dust to dawn watching the door honestly when was he banging her during the work day I don't think so, mate. I mean, if my husband was disappearing every single night, I'll be like, what are you doing, mate? You have questions. This, lots of questions. I said to you, how do we know these stories are made up?

Because this bloke, the way he's archering everyone's questions, it's like it's really happening. Yeah. I can't afford it with all my bills. I have to work. I don't get, I think that's paid time, PTO. pay time off I don't get paid time off for several months I'm trying to make it so that I can take vacation and actually get some proper sleep during the day this isn't

easy for me the way he answers gives me it right it's not easy the way he's answering is like this is really happening yeah because people are asking as if it's really happening they want to know the logistics of all this this story uh it's been nice knowing you someone yeah bye and he went don't say that I'm still holding the line for now if I go quiet you know that the final rules are broken okay I enjoyed that I liked that one and I hope it's not real otherwise if we all start dying then we know that he fell asleep in front of the door guys I mean who did he was long I told you that was long you're gonna be your I didn't admit to.

It's been a long day, you know. Did I just read for 40 minutes? Like an hour. Forever you read. I can't wait to see how long this podcast is. So am I doing one more? You're finishing. Oh, you've only read two?

Hell very dear you, I know. Yeah, can you imagine if I went, no, no, we're done now. Oh! No! Take your neck. That was from the... Okay, shall we move on? Yes.

She just timed me out. No, I timed my son to see how long before the bus, so I send him an ETA watch. All right. I want to make sure that he's all right. I like him. Don't tell him that one. There's Harry.

Excuse me, oh no. There's a penny else that one. I mean, we'll keep him going. I checked into a hotel that doesn't have a 20th floor. Okay. Last night, I found room. 1902 I don't even know why I'm writing this

maybe because I haven't slept in almost two days maybe because I keep hearing the same low hum in my ears the one that starts in the elevator or maybe because if I don't get this out I'll start convincing myself it never really happened three weeks ago my editor sent me to

Portland to cover what was supposed to be an easy heritage story a luxury vintage hotel was reopening after decades and Portland Weekly wanted a local piece

about its centennial restoration Centennial Restoration Restoration Yeah The subject line

In the email Said Easy Feature Nostalgia Angel I didn't care much It sounded like the kind of story You forget By the time you drive home But I needed the by line

So I packed Booked a single night And drove down when I got there the first thing I noticed was how out of place the hotel looked the city had changed around it glass towers cafes neon lights but excuse me but this place just stood there like a fossil that refused to rot the sign outside still buzzed weekly half the letters dead the rain made the neon hiss inside it was quiet too quiet the lobby smelled like lemon polish and rust a single lamp glowed behind the front desk and a woman sat there with a tired smile that didn't reach her eyes her name tag said clara checking in she asked er yeah Ethan from Portland Wigley her fingers pulls for a fraction of a second over the keyboard then she nodded room 1912 19th floor

the elevators are to your left she hesitated before adding please note sir there's no 20th floor access beyond the 19th is restricted during renovation she said it like it was rehearsed I didn't think much of it. Old hotels always have floors closed for repairs. My room was at the end of the hall, the carpet was thick but faded and the lights buzzed constantly like there was static in the air. When I reached my door, I heard faint jazz music something old and fuzzy like it was playing from a dying radio. inside everything looked fine beige walls old furniture the faint smell of lavender I tried the TV nothing when I pulled the curtains open though my stomach flipped from outside the hotel had 20 from outside the hotel had 21 floors I'd seen them

from the street rows of windows perfectly lined but it was the 19th but I was on the 19th floor and in the glass reflection of the building across the street I could see two more levels above mine. Both lit. The elevator panel downstairs however only went up to 19. That thought wouldn't leave me. Around 1140 that night I went down for a soda from the lobby machine. I was half asleep when I stepped into the the elevator. Brass rails, small mirror, the doors side shut. That's when I noticed something weird. The panel looked new, too new, shiny, modern buttons that didn't match the rest of the old cage. Numbers went from 1 to 19, no 20, no 21. I was about to hit Lobby when I heard a faint click.

like static, and the elevator jerked slightly. I looked down and froze. A new button had appeared between 19 and 21. 1902. The engraving was faint but real. The light behind it flickered like it was struggling to exist. I stared, convinced I was imagining it. I blinked, rubbed my eyes, still there, flickering.

waiting. I don't know what made me press it. Curiosity maybe, stupidity, definitely. But the moment I did, the elevator groaned. The floor indicator stayed stuck on 19, but I could feel us moving fast. My ears popped, the light flickered violently. Then with a dull metallic thud, it stopped. The doors opened halfway, stuck. I forced them apart and stepped out. The air was stowl, the bulbs overhead flickered yellow, the carpet the same pattern as the 19th floor, but darker, soaked with water stones. The wallpaper peeled in places, revealing something black underneath. It shimmered faintly like wet tar. And yet, Everything looked the same. Just older. Colder. At the end of the hall, faint orange light leaked from under a door. I could just make out the number. 1902. The elevator doors shut behind me with a sharp clang. I started walking. My reflection in the hallway mirror lagged by half a second. When I was halfway down the hall, I heard it.

It came from inside the room. Three slow knocks. Then silence. Then again. Tap, tap, tap. Careful, rhythmic, almost human. I leaned closer, holding my breath. Then a voice faint, female, trembling. Please don't open it. I stumbled back, my heart slammed in my chest, silence. Something glinted in the carpet near my foot. A small silver picture frame, glass cracked, inside a black and white photo of four people standing in a hallway, the same hallway I was in. The handwritten label said, Hotel Staff, 1987, and there, smiling in the middle, was Clara. Her name tag was clear as day. My hands went cold. I ran. I hit the elevator button again and again until the doors opened. The inside lights flickered wildly, but I didn't care. I slammed lobby and kept pressing. When the doors opened, the clock behind the front desk read

1159 p.m. Clara was still there. Same posture, same expression, like she hadn't moved an inch. I walked up to her, shaking, holding the photo. Where did you get this? she asked quietly. Her voice flak. I found it upstairs, I said. There's a hallway, room 1902. She cut me off. Sir, there is no hallway and there is no room 1902.

Her hand trembled as she took the photo. She looked down at it, then up at me. Her face drained of colour. You should leave, she whispered. please. I didn't argue. As I packed the hallway lights outside my room flickered in sink, almost breathing. The elevator doors stood open at the end, waiting. I stepped inside. The panel was normal again, no 1902, but scratched into the metal, rough and jagged, were the words, don't let it open again. I left without checking it, didn't even. Didn't even,

even look back they shouldn't they should have been the end of it but it isn't because every night since my phone clock freezes at 1159 p.m. for five seconds my reflection moves a heartbeat too late and last night in my apartment building elevator between 19 and 21 the number 1902 flickered just long enough for me to see it just long enough for me to know it's still waiting yeah I didn't like that I but it's on them a little bit but going to the floor oh as if you wouldn't it's on there is if you would it's like would you I don't think you don't press this big red button it is on them a little bit I didn't really grasp the Clara bit so what

they're saying that she's been alive for a really really long time She's part of the hotel. Oh, she's part of... I mean, I would leave. Massively. Like, immediately. I'm not hanging around. I don't even know if I'd go back for my staff.

I also wouldn't be so curious about, if you're telling me there's night in floors, I wouldn't start counting up, Eva. I really wouldn't give a shit. Yeah, but if you're a reporter and you're doing a report on this hotel, you're looking at. Yeah, it's like the Seasel Hotel, isn't it?

That's the one that's fucked up. But, yeah, I enjoyed the story. Would I stay there? Absolutely not. No. No. Are there anything, any comments? Does your apartment have to stairs? I'd probably skip the elevator if I was shit.

I feel like this is, was an oversight on the lobbies part. She warned you about the 20th floor, but conveniently forgot to tell you about the mysterious 1902. I'm glad you left immediately when something spooky happened instead of going for cliche horror troupe of waiting around to see what happens. It's true. It's true. It's like most people are, ooh, it's getting nice.

Yeah, I'll go and look. We have to do better. You have to start doing better. But no, I enjoyed that. I've enjoyed tonight. They're great stories. It's a great subredit. And it's all pretty fucked up.

And I think the people that write these stories are incredible writers. Yeah, really great. they are really great I am hoping it's fantasy and these aren't true accounts of things that are going on because that's just terrifying and they're definitely not true accounts

well I never know it's not American and it could be anything you never know right right like follow subscribe I hope you enjoyed our spooky season and yeah it's it

that is it our next season will be the Christmas season. Until then, we will carry on with all our bullshit stories that we love and enjoy. That's it. Yeah. Bye guys. What do you think of that?

I think, what don't you think that? I think that girl has got everything that she did.