The Figure Behind the Door

Chapter 1: The New House

When Alya’s family moved to a small town, she didn’t expect life to be exciting. In fact, she thought it would be boring.

“No malls, no cinemas, no Wi-Fi?” she groaned, dragging her suitcase into the old two-story house.

Her parents had bought the house cheaply. “A great deal!” her dad said. “Quiet, peaceful, perfect to focus on school!”

Alya, 16 years old and addicted to her phone, wasn’t impressed.

But something about the house made her feel… strange.

Like someone was watching.

Especially the door at the end of the upstairs hallway. It was always closed. And always cold.

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Chapter 2: The Door

“What's behind that door?” Alya asked her mom.

“Just a storage room,” her mom replied quickly. “Full of junk. Don’t worry about it.”

But Alya did worry. She noticed the door never opened. Not even once.

And sometimes, late at night, she could swear she heard something behind it.

A soft knocking.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

One night, she pressed her ear against the door.

She heard breathing.

Deep, slow breathing.

She pulled back, heart pounding. “Probably the wind,” she whispered to herself.

But wind doesn’t breathe.

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Chapter 3: The Whisper

It got worse after the third night.

She started having strange dreams.

A dark figure standing in front of the door, whispering her name.

“Alyaaa…”

And in the dream, she always walked toward it.

Always reached for the doorknob.

But just before touching it, she woke up—sweaty, terrified, heart racing.

She told her best friend via text.

“That house is sus,” her friend replied.

“You need to record it,” another message came. “If there’s a ghost, catch it on camera!”

Alya laughed nervously, but the idea stuck in her head.

That night, she set up her phone to record the hallway.

What she saw the next morning made her drop the phone.

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Chapter 4: The Video

In the video, the hallway was empty at first.

Then at exactly 3:14 AM, the doorknob turned slowly.

The door creaked open—just a crack.

And a pale hand reached out.

Only for a second.

Then the door closed again.

The figure behind the door was real.

Alya showed her parents.

They didn’t believe her.

“Nice editing,” her dad laughed.

“It’s just a dream,” her mom insisted.

So she decided to find out the truth herself.

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Chapter 5: The Key

She searched the house.

Drawers. Closets. Boxes in the garage.

Finally, in an old coat pocket, she found it—a rusty silver key.

She knew exactly which door it belonged to.

That night, she waited until her parents were asleep.

She crept to the hallway and stood in front of the cold, old door.

Hand shaking, she inserted the key.

Click.

The door creaked open.

A wave of cold air hit her face.

She stepped inside.