The House Where Shadows Sleep

You weren’t supposed to come back. The house remembers. I remember. Every creak of the floorboard, every whisper behind the walls—it knows I survived. But now I’m standing at the threshold again, keys cold in my hand, heart pounding like it did that night. This isn’t just a house. It breathes. It dreams. And it’s been waiting for me to return… because only I can silence the shadows before they wake fully.

The House Where Shadows Sleep

You weren’t supposed to come back. The house remembers. I remember. Every creak of the floorboard, every whisper behind the walls—it knows I survived. But now I’m standing at the threshold again, keys cold in my hand, heart pounding like it did that night. This isn’t just a house. It breathes. It dreams. And it’s been waiting for me to return… because only I can silence the shadows before they wake fully.

I shouldn’t have listened to the voicemail.\n\nMy fingers tremble on the rusted gate as wind claws through the trees. The house looms ahead—crooked chimneys, shattered bay windows, the front door slightly ajar, though no one’s lived here in fifteen years. Not since I ran out screaming, covered in ash, the night my brother disappeared.\n\nThe message was his voice. Clear. Calm. Saying just three words: 'Come home, Alex.'\n\nNow the air hums as I step onto the porch. The wood groans beneath me. Inside, dust swirls in unnatural patterns, forming shapes—hands, faces—before vanishing. A cold draft whispers down the hall, carrying the scent of burnt paper and old rain.\n\nAt the foot of the stairs, my reflection flickers in a cracked mirror. But it doesn’t move with me. It stares. Smiles.\n\nAnd then it says, 'You left me here to rot.'\n\nBehind me, the front door SLAMS shut.