When Noah, a broke college grad with dreams bigger than his wallet, finally finds a cheap apartment in the city, he thinks he’s won the lottery. The place is spacious, fully furnished, and suspiciously affordable. There’s just one catch — the apartment never sleeps.

At 3:00 a.m., the lights flicker on their own. The fridge hums in Morse code. The TV plays channels that don’t exist. And sometimes, the neighbors knock from inside the walls.

But instead of running, Noah decides to investigate. With his dark sense of humor, a stubborn streak, and a voice recorder that never stops picking up whispers, he digs deeper — uncovering a history of missing tenants, cursed renovations, and a landlord who swears “the building is alive.”

As the nights grow stranger and the laughter more unhinged, Noah realizes he might not be living in the apartment…
He might be part of it.

A twisted blend of fear and foolish bravery, The Apartment That Never Sleeps delivers chills, laughs, and late-night paranoia — a horror story that doesn’t let you rest, even after you turn the last page.

He was lying by the door again, hand outstretched, bat gone.


The apartment looked exactly the same — too normal, too clean.


He scrambled toward it, heart hammering. "Finally," he muttered. "Let's see who you are."


He watched as his sleeping self twitched. Then slowly, mechanically, he sat up.


On-screen Noah stood, head tilted slightly, like a puppet tugged by invisible strings.


The camera flickered — static — and when it came back, there were two Noahs in the frame.


The second one turned around, and his face was wrong — pale, blurred, eyes all black.


He leaned down to the camera, so close his breath fogged the lens, and whispered:


Noah slammed the laptop shut. His pulse thundered. "No, no, no, that's impossible. I was— I didn't—"


The reflection smiled again — this time wider, teeth too sharp, eyes too still.


It lifted a hand and pointed at something behind him.


He stumbled backward, clutching his chest. "Stop. Please, just stop."


The knocking came again — slow, patient, mocking.


And from the mirror, his reflection whispered — perfectly synced with the knocks:


The lights burst. The mirror shattered.


For one fleeting second, he saw another world beyond the shards — dark halls, whispering figures, and himself standing in the doorway, smiling.


He was standing — not lying — in front of the mirror.


Chapter 5 - Chapter 5 — What the Camera Saw