Jzt Stories

After moving into the neighborhood, the family across the street would always wave at her whenever she was heading out. They seemed really sweet and welcoming. Anytime she planned on formally introducing herself to them, something always came up. This went on for weeks until she finally made up her mind to do so before leaving for work the next day. The following morning, she went over to the neighbors' house to introduce herself. Upon closer inspection, she noticed the house had been abandoned for some time and there was no sign of life in it. Puzzled and confused, she asked her neighbors who lived next door. She was told that each time anyone moves into the neighborhood, they experience the same strange activity. Everyone in the neighborhood had experienced the exact same thing. Although it's somewhat eerie, it is harmless in any sense and form.

A girl home alone with her dog hears noises coming underneath the bed but she was reassured by the dog licking her hand from under the bed. The noise went on for a while but anytime she tried turning on the lights, her dog would lick her hands. In the morning, she finds her dog dead, and a message scrawled in blood saying,  "Ain’t you glad you didn’t turn the lights "

At exactly 2:17 AM every morning, the phone rang. I always answered, hearing only static and faint whispers. One night, I called back. "You shouldn't have done that," came the reply, followed by a chilling laugh. After that, the calls stopped, but I began to hear the whispers in around my house, and in my room. One night, I woke to find a phone on my pillow, ringing. When I picked it up, the voice said,  “I'm here now."  I dropped the phone in panic, but the whispering didn't stop. It was all around me, echoing off the walls. I checked every room, every corner, but found no one. The next day, I disconnected my phone line, but at 2:17 AM, the sound of a ringing phone still filled my ears. I searched for hidden devices, anything that could explain this persistent haunting, but there was nothing.  Then, one night, I decided not to answer, to ignore the sound. But the ringing grew louder, more insistent, until it was unbearable. I couldn't take it anymore; I ...

On Rundle, she crafted profiles with stolen smiles and honeyed words. Her latest match, Mark, was charmed by her wit and beauty. They agreed to meet at a quaint café, but she suggested a secluded park for a more "romantic" setting. As night draped the park in shadows, Mark arrived, eager for love. But under the cover of darkness, her true intentions surfaced. Her laughter turned to a sinister chuckle as she approached, knife glinting in the moon's pale light. Mark's last thought, as he felt the cold steel, was not of love, but of the eerie emptiness in her eyes.  The next day, another profile was ready on Rundle, waiting for its next unsuspecting match.

In the small of Lin, there stood a dilapidated house at the end of Oak Street. Its windows were boarded up, and the paint had long peeled away, revealing the gray, rotting wood beneath. The locals whispered that no one had lived there since the tragic night when the Petersons vanished, leaving behind only their cat, which was found dead on the porch, its eyes wide with terror. One stormy night, a traveler, seeking shelter from the relentless rain, stumbled upon this forsaken place. The door creaked ominously as he pushed it open, revealing a hallway lined with shadows that seemed to move with a life of their own. The air was thick with the scent of decay. As he ventured deeper, the whispers began—soft at first, like a distant conversation, but growing louder with every step he took. They didn't sound like words but more like the rustling of leaves or the murmuring of a river, yet they carried an unmistakable sense of urgency, of warning. He reached the living room, where the whispe...

The town had long forgotten about the old St. Aurelius Clinic. It stood on the edge of a narrow street, hidden behind thick weeds and the skeletal remains of a wrought iron fence. No one remembered when it had shut down, or why, but it had the look of a place that had been abandoned for decades—its windows clouded with grime, its paint peeled away like shedding skin. Some said it had once been a charity clinic, open late into the night for those who couldn’t afford proper care. Others whispered about patients who went in and never came out, about the smell that lingered even years after its doors had closed. Nathan had never given the rumors much thought until the night the dreams started. For three nights in a row, he dreamt of a hallway that stretched on forever, its flickering fluorescent lights buzzing in his ears. At the end of that hallway, there was always a door, and behind that door—silence. On the fourth night, he woke up at 3:33 a.m., heart pounding, the image of that door b...

I lived with my stepdad for 4 years after my mom abandoned us and started a new family upstate. It was an awful experience at first, but my stepdad and I pulled through and made the most of it. He cared and loved me as if I were his own. He filled the emptiness left by my mother. We moved to a new city to explore new life and opportunities. I was a shy kid who liked to keep to herself. My dad enrolled me in the best high school in the city. On the second week at the new school, I was sort of bullied by a group of students. At first, I thought it was a one-time thing, but they continued for weeks, and I was so fed up with it that I told my dad. He was enraged, and the following day, he went to the school to make a complaint. Hoping this would calm the situation and get the students off my back, it rather encouraged them to play more dirty games on me. I told my dad about it again, and he just smiled and asked me what would make me happier: switching schools or getting them back. I smile...

I loved late-night train rides home until one autumn evening when the train was eerily empty except for an old woman. As we traveled, lights flickered, and whispers filled the air,  "You shouldn't have boarded tonight." The old woman's unnatural blue eyes met mine as she warned,  "This train isn't bound for where you think."  Panic set in; I wanted to leave at the next stop, but the train didn't slow. It entered a tunnel not on the map, the whispers turning into a mourning chorus. Emerging, the night sky turned into day. The woman vanished, leaving her warning,  "You're one of us now. I've been on this train since, whispering to new passengers, bout to board the train at this hour but no one ever hears me “

A young lady was hired as a babysitter for a family. Her employers had two children, a boy and a girl. Before going over to their house, the parents hadn’t specified the exact number of children she would be watching, so she assumed there were two more. Upon her arrival, she met the parents waiting for her in front of the house, already set to go out. They handed her a note filled with instructions to follow, and then they left. A few minutes after they left, she went through the note, and the instructions were just three brief writings: The back door is already locked, so don’t worry about it If the kids are having trouble falling asleep, there’s cough syrup in the fridge. Give them a spoonful We’ve let the guard dogs out, so please stay inside until we get back Soon after reading the note, the two kids came running downstairs in a game of tag. She had already had a long, stressful day and was not ready for this. She went to the kitchen and brought out the cough syrup. Not sure how to...

Angela had always been what you’d call a  cat person . The sight of a feline—be it a stray basking in the sun, a neighbor’s tabby perched on a fence, or even a scruffy street cat slinking between trash cans—brought a smile to her face. There was something about them: their grace, their independence, their quiet curiosity about the world. She lived alone in a small apartment on the third floor of a brick building that overlooked the narrow streets of her neighborhood. Life was simple—work during the day, a bit of reading at night, maybe a show or two on weekends. But her evenings always felt a little incomplete without the soft weight of a purring animal nearby. One warm afternoon, as Angela sat by her desk finishing some reports, she heard the faint scrape of claws against her windowsill. She turned just in time to see a sleek ginger cat leap gracefully into her apartment through the half-open window. Her heart instantly melted. “Well, hello there,” She said softly, rising from her...

The man in the blue overalls stood at the end of Maple Street, rainwater dripping from the brim of his cap. His gloved hands gripped a small, dented toolbox, the kind that seemed to have seen decades of service. From a distance, he looked like any other tradesman—ordinary, forgettable. That was the point. His van, parked two houses down, bore no logo, no phone number—just a streaky coat of white paint that hid whatever business name had been there before. Inside, carefully packed under a false bottom, sat a dozen small bottles of murky liquid, each labeled with a letter and number combination only he understood. When he approached the quaint, two-story house at 47 Maple, he walked with the slow, easy gait of a man whose profession had brought him into hundreds of homes. He knocked twice. The door opened to reveal a couple in their mid-thirties. They looked surprised to see him. “Afternoon,” He said warmly. “ I just finished a plumbing job for your neighbors, the Martins. Thought I’d ch...