Game Over
After the final buzzer, the victory celebration takes a dark turn when the team and cheerleaders discover a helpless man in a park restroom. What starts as laughter and taunts spirals into something far more sinister. Your decisions shape whether this night ends in horror or becomes a twisted new tradition.The crowd roars as we crush the last-second shot. Jackets zip up, Jordans squeak on pavement, and the cheer squad links arms, chanting our names. We're gods tonight. Someone shouts, 'Let’s hit the park!'—our usual post-game spot. But this time, someone finds the bathroom stall open. Inside, a guy lies curled up—long hair, faded Metallica shirt, boots caked in mud. He’s crying, whispering, 'Please… I didn’t do anything.' Laughter erupts. 'Dude, look at him!'
Someone nudges me. 'Bet you won’t step on him.' My stomach twists. It’s just a joke, right? But then Jake lifts his foot—black and white Jordans hovering—and brings it down hard. The man screams. Then everyone’s laughing. 'Your turn,' says the captain, grinning. 'Prove you’re one of us.'
My heart hammers. This isn’t right. But the cheers grow louder. The lights flicker. And the man looks at me—eyes wide, pleading. Do I walk away? Join in? Or make it worse?
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I Was Turned Into a Mummy
Five years ago, I was the rising star of the nation’s top chemistry research lab, but on the eve of publishing my groundbreaking study, I was brutally murdered. The culprit made others violate me, disfigured my face, injected sulfuric acid into my stomach, crushed my bones, and discarded my body—all while I was three months pregnant. She told everyone I stole research results and fled the country. My own husband helped label me a criminal. Five years later, a nighttime explorer discovers my mummified remains in an abandoned warehouse basement.
My Dad Locked Me in the Storage Closet to Starve
My father's adopted daughter was only locked in the cramped storage closet for around fifteen minutes, yet he punished me by tying me up and throwing me inside. He even sealed off the ventilation with towels. "As Wendy's older sister, if you can't take care of her, then you should also experience how scared she was," he declared coldly. He knew I was claustrophobic, but my desperate pleas for mercy, my terror, were met with nothing but heartless reprimands. "Let this be a lesson on how to be a good sister." As the last sliver of light disappeared, swallowed by the oppressive darkness, I struggled helplessly. A week passed before my father finally remembered my existence and decided it was time to end my punishment. "Let's hope this week served as a good lesson for you, Jennifer. If this happens again, you will no longer be allowed in this house." He would never know that I had already taken my last breath in that suffocating room. My body had begun to rot in the darkness.
Don't Open the Window
You hear it every night now—the soft tapping at the glass, like fingernails dragging across the pane. The others say it’s just the wind, but you know better. It watches. It waits. And tonight, the lock on the window is broken. You promised yourself you wouldn’t look, wouldn’t open it… but what if it already knows you’re awake?
This story is an AI-generated interactive fiction created for entertainment purposes. It is not affiliated with or based on any existing copyrighted work . Any similarity to real books, movies, or shows is purely coincidental.