Nightmare in an Old House

Description

Script Vidéo

I live alone in an old house at the end of a dead-end street. During the day, it feels normal. Quiet. Empty. Harmless. But at night, the house changes. The walls creak like they’re breathing. The hallway looks longer than it should. And every night, at exactly 3:13 a.m., someone knocks three times on my kitchen window. Knock. Knock. Knock. I always told myself it was nothing. A branch. The wind. Some animal in the yard. But last night, after the knocks, I heard a voice. Low. Dry. Almost pressed against the glass. It whispered my name. I never told anyone in this neighborhood my name. So tonight, I locked every door. Closed every curtain. Left a knife under my pillow. And tried not to sleep. At 3:13 a.m., I woke up. Three knocks. But this time, they didn’t come from the kitchen. They came from my bedroom door. Knock. Knock. Knock. I stopped breathing. The doorknob started turning slowly. Then my phone lit up on the nightstand. Unknown number. “Don’t open it.” Another message appeared. “It copies voices.” Then, from the other side of the door, I heard my own voice whisper: “Open the door. I live here too.” I backed away toward the window. And that’s when I saw my reflection in the glass. It was smiling. I wasn’t.