She sat up straighter. The blankets felt too heavy.
Her own breathing.
Maya couldn’t sleep. Again.
Silence.
Then, a single, soft tap on her bedroom door. horror on prime
Maya's hand froze over the keyboard. She looked towards her bedroom door. It was closed. She had definitely closed it.
On screen, the camera crept closer to the door. The handle turned. The door swung open slowly, revealing her dark living room. And in the corner of the frame, just barely visible in the reflection of the dark TV screen, was a figure. Tall. Too tall. Shoulders brushing the ceiling. She sat up straighter
Here’s a short horror story inspired by the unsettling feeling of scrolling through a streaming service late at night.