One morning, a thick, unnatural fog rolled in over the town, swallowing everything in its path. Streets, houses, even the tallest buildings disappeared into the gray mist. People who ventured outside never returned, their voices faint and desperate before fading completely. The fog wasn’t natural it moved with intention, creeping closer to anyo
It was a quiet night when my old radio suddenly crackled to life, even though I hadn’t turned it on. Static filled the room, but beneath it, I could hear faint voices whispering my name. At first, I thought it was just interference, but the whispers turned into clear, urgent messages warnings about dangers only I knew about. The radio continue
When I first moved into the old house, I was fascinated by its peculiar layout rooms shifted, hallways extended, and doors appeared where there hadn’t been any before. At night, I heard the creak and groan of wood moving, as if the house was alive and rearranging itself. No matter how many times I mapped the floor plan, it changed by morning.
It started as a simple curiosity a new app that claimed to predict the exact time of your death. I downloaded it, laughing at the absurdity, and entered my details. The screen flickered, then displayed a chilling date and time just three days from now. At first, I dismissed it as a joke or glitch, but the app kept sending notifications, growing m