A Voice in the Night

March 31, 2026

by Rosa

1 min read

Story Premise 1 min read (122 words)

"I had just tucked my son into his cradle in the nursery and returned to my own bed. My wife was asleep beside me, and the house was quiet. Then, a woman’s voice came clearly through the baby monitor. “Such a sweet child,” it said. My heart jumped. Everyone else in the house was accounted […]"

I had just tucked my son into his cradle in the nursery and returned to my own bed. My wife was asleep beside me, and the house was quiet. Then, a woman’s voice came clearly through the baby monitor. “Such a sweet child,” it said.

My heart jumped. Everyone else in the house was accounted for and sleeping. My own grandmother, who had always loved children, had passed on just a few months before. I liked to think it was her, coming to give her blessing.

Still, a chill ran down my spine. I rushed to the nursery and gathered my sleeping boy into my arms. For a long time after that, he slept only in our room, close by my side.

Related Horror Movies to Watch

Ghost Writer

2019

Nightkill

1980

Bai wan ju e

2012

The Destroyer

2016

Leave a Comment Cancel reply

You must be logged in to post a comment.

The Porcelain Bird

When I first saw the cottage, I thought it was the perfect escape. Nestled at the end of a gravel lane, surrounded by skeletal oaks and a lake that mirrored the gray sky, it had a lonely charm. I moved in during early autumn, and for the first two weeks, the silence was a balm. […]

The Hollow Static

The night air in the town of Redford had a peculiar thickness, like it was holding its breath. My girlfriend, Maya, and I were staying in her grandmother’s old house, a creaking Victorian relic at the edge of the woods. The bedroom was stifling, the radiator clanking and hissing. Maya was buried under three quilts, […]

The Lantern of Hollow Creek

It was a humid August evening in 1987 when my grandfather told me the story that would haunt my dreams for decades. We were sitting on the porch of his old farmhouse, the cicadas singing their relentless chorus, and the air thick with the smell of honeysuckle. I was nine, and I had just asked […]

The Fever Road

In the autumn of 2019, my six-week-old son, Elias, caught a mild cough. It was nothing alarming, just a little rasp in his breath, but it lingered for two days, keeping me awake with worry. I spent those nights on the floor beside his bassinet, my hand on his tiny chest, feeling the steady rise […]

The Weight in the Lamplight

In the sweltering October heat of Fairview, three days before my seventeenth birthday, I was hunched over a stack of anatomy diagrams, tracing the sinewy pathways of the frog’s leg muscles under the dim glow of my desk lamp. The Zoology professor, Dr. Hargrove, had a penchant for assigning projects that demanded every ounce of […]

The Lampmaker’s Debt

The autumn we moved into the old farmhouse on Hemlock Road, the previous owner’s belongings were still scattered about like the bones of a forgotten meal. The realtor had warned us about the draft, the quirks of the well, and the lingering smell of kerosene from the workshop out back, but he said nothing about […]

The Gilded Number

Marta had just moved from the sun-baked plains of Jalisco to the rain-soaked hills of the Pacific Northwest, into a house that smelled of cedar and old carpet. It was a rental, a two-story Victorian with peeling paint and a porch that groaned like a tired animal. Her family—her father, a quiet man named Tomás, […]

The Static Between Stations

Elara first noticed it on a Tuesday, three months after they moved into the glass-and-cedar house at the edge of the salt flats. Their new home was pristine, all sharp angles and floor-to-ceiling windows that faced a horizon of pale, cracked earth. She and her husband, Marcus, had been proud to be the first occupants—no […]

The Attic Door

My name is Clara, and I live in a creaking old Victorian on the outskirts of Duluth, Minnesota, with my two daughters, Emily, who is nine, and Sophie, who is six. When we moved in, the realtor mentioned the house had ‘character,’ but she didn’t mention the cold spots that follow us from room to […]

The Painted Lady of Larkspur Lane

My great-grandmother, Elsie, could feel the cold spots in a room before anyone else. My grandmother, Willa, swore she once saw a woman in a blue dress standing at the foot of her bed, just watching. My mother, Clara, always said that the gift skipped a generation, but that it lingered in the blood, waiting […]

The Weight of the Weir

At fourteen, I was the designated keeper of my younger siblings, a role I accepted with the grim resignation of a sentinel who never asked for the post. When my father and stepmother moved us into the old Fenwick place, a rambling Victorian that crouched on the edge of the marsh like a sick animal, […]

The Stillness of Blackwood Manor

The chill of Blackwood Manor had settled into Elias’s bones the moment he stepped across the threshold, a damp, earthy odor clinging to the air like a shroud. His aunt, Martha, had always spoken of the estate in hushed, almost reverent tones, but Elias had dismissed it as a fanciful exaggeration. Now, standing in the […]