I never believed in the supernatural until that night. I was alone in my apartment, just like any other evening. The lights were dim, and the city sounds buzzed faintly outside. Suddenly, I heard a soft knock on my door. Strange, because I wasnโt expecting anyone.
I ignored it at first, but the knocking grew louder, more urgent. When I finally opened the door, no one was there just an old worn-out journal lying on the floor. I picked it up, and the air turned cold, like a sudden chill wrapped around me.
Curiosity got the better of me, so I opened the journal. The pages were filled with detailed accounts of someone watching me describing my every move, my routines, even the way I breathe when I sleep. The last entry was dated for the next dayโฆ but it was empty
That night, I couldnโt sleep. Shadows seemed to move in the corners of the room, and whispers echoed softly, too faint to understand but too clear to ignore. I felt eyes on me, even when I was alone
The next morning I found a note slipped under my door Iโm closer than you think.
I never found out who left it. And now, every time I hear a knock Iโm too afraid to answer.
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