The living room was dim except for the restless flicker of the television, its pale blue glow stretching long, distorted shadows across the walls.
Outside, the wind whispered against the windows, brushing the glass with soft, uncertain taps. A half-empty bowl of popcorn sat forgotten on the coffee table, kernels scattered like tiny, abandoned footprints.
Aiden leaned forward on the couch, elbows on his knees, eyes wide with fascination. The documentary's narrator spoke in a low, ominous tone about spirits caught between worlds—souls tethered to crumbling buildings, replaying their final moments over and over again.
Grainy footage of abandoned hallways filled the screen, doors creaking open on their own, cold drafts stirring dust that hadn't been disturbed in decades.
Sophia hugged a pillow tightly to her chest. She tried to look unimpressed, even bored, but every time the music dipped into a slow, eerie hum, her fingers tightened around the fabric. "It's just editing tricks," she muttered under her breath, though she didn't sound fully convinced.
Leo laughed whenever the music swelled dramatically. "Classic," he said, shaking his head. But his fingers betrayed him, drumming anxiously against the armrest in a rapid rhythm that didn't match his casual tone.
He kept glancing toward the dark hallway leading to the bedrooms, as if expecting something to move there.
Liam sat the quietest of the four. He barely shifted the entire time. His gaze remained fixed on the screen, watching the shadowed corridors and blurred figures with an intensity that made him seem almost frozen.
The narrator described an old house on the edge of the city—forgotten, sealed, avoided. Locals claimed they heard whispers there at night. Some said they saw lights flicker inside, even though no electricity ran through it anymore.
When the credits finally rolled, the room felt heavier somehow. The television's glow faded, leaving only the soft ticking of the wall clock.
Silence settled over them.
"That was insane," Aiden finally said, leaning back and forcing a grin. "Imagine actually going to a place like that."
Sophia rolled her eyes. "You'd be the first to scream."
"No way," Aiden shot back quickly. "I'd be fine."
Leo leaned forward slowly, a mischievous spark lighting his eyes. "What if we did?"
The others turned to him.
"There's that old house on the edge of the city," Leo continued. "The one near the dried-up lake. People say it's haunted. Perfect for an exploration."
Sophia groaned, half-exasperated, half-intrigued. "You're joking."
"I'm not," Leo replied, a grin spreading across his face. "Think about it. Midnight. Just the four of us. We record everything. If nothing happens, we prove it's fake. If something does…" He let the sentence hang in the air.
Liam swallowed. His voice, when it came, was quieter than the ticking clock. "I don't think this is a good idea. Besides, I'm afraid of places like that."
Aiden clapped him lightly on the shoulder. "That's why we'd all go together. Nothing's going to happen."
"Easy for you to say," Liam muttered.
But the idea had already taken root.
They talked about it at first as a joke—who would bring a flashlight, who would scream first, who would dare to step into the basement if there was one. Yet beneath the laughter, something else stirred: curiosity. A challenge. The thrill of doing something forbidden.
By the time the clock struck midnight, the joking had turned into planning.
They'd meet tomorrow at eleven-thirty. Walk together to the edge of the city. Enter at exactly midnight.
"No backing out," Leo said, extending his hand into the center.
Aiden placed his hand on top. "No backing out."
Sophia hesitated only a second before adding hers. "This is stupid," she said—but she didn't remove her hand.
All eyes turned to Liam.
For a moment, he considered shaking his head. Staying home. Pretending to be sick. But the thought of them going without him felt worse than the fear twisting in his stomach.
Slowly, reluctantly, he placed his hand on top of the others'.
"Fine," he whispered.
Outside, the wind grew stronger, rattling the windows as if in warning.
Tomorrow at midnight, the four of them would step inside the haunted house.
And none of them yet understood that some doors, once opened, do not easily close.