It was a night like any other, or so it seemed. The moon hung low in the sky, casting an eerie glow over the quiet suburban street. The houses stood in neat rows, their windows dark and lifeless, as if the occupants had all gone to bed early. But in one of those houses, something was different. Something was very wrong.
Sarah had always been a light sleeper. The slightest noise would wake her up, and tonight was no exception. She lay in her bed, staring at the ceiling, her mind racing with thoughts she couldn’t quite grasp. She had been drifting in and out of sleep when she heard it¡ªa faint, almost imperceptible sound. At first, she thought it was just the wind, rustling the leaves outside her window. But then, she realized it was something else. It was a voice, a croaking voice, calling out to her from the darkness.
She sat up in bed, her heart pounding in her chest. The voice was soft, barely audible, but it was unmistakable. It croaked like a frog, a deep, guttural sound that sent shivers down her spine. She tried to ignore it, telling herself it was just her imagination playing tricks on her. But the voice persisted, growing louder and more insistent with each passing moment.
Sarah swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up, her bare feet touching the cold hardwood floor. She walked over to the window and peered outside, but there was nothing there. The street was empty, the houses silent. She turned back to the room, her eyes scanning the shadows in the corners. That’s when she saw it¡ªa dark figure standing in the doorway, just out of sight.
Her breath caught in her throat as she took a step back. The figure was tall and thin, its face hidden in the darkness. But she could hear the croaking voice again, clearer now, as if it was right beside her. “Come here,” it croaked, the sound sending a wave of terror through her body.
Sarah’s mind raced as she tried to think of what to do. She knew she had to get out of the room, but her legs felt like lead, refusing to move. The figure stepped forward, its outline becoming more distinct in the dim light. She could see its eyes now, glowing like embers in the dark, and she knew she had to act fast.
With a burst of adrenaline, she lunged for the door, but the figure was quicker. It reached out with a long, bony hand and grabbed her wrist, pulling her back. She screamed, the sound echoing through the house, but there was no one to hear her. The figure dragged her across the room and into the closet, slamming the door shut behind them.
Inside the closet, it was pitch black. Sarah could feel the figure’s breath on her neck, hot and foul-smelling. The croaking voice was louder now, almost deafening. “You can’t escape me,” it croaked, its grip tightening around her throat. She struggled, trying to break free, but it was no use. The figure was too strong.
As she felt herself slipping away, the voice grew softer, almost gentle. “Don’t worry,” it croaked. “I’ll take care of you.”
Sarah’s vision began to blur, and she felt herself falling into darkness. The last thing she heard was the croaking voice, echoing in her mind like a haunting lullaby.
When the police arrived the next morning, they found the house empty. There was no sign of Sarah or the mysterious figure. The only clue was a single, croaking frog sitting on the windowsill, staring out at the street with unblinking eyes.
If you enjoyed this chilling tale, be sure to visit Horror Stories for more spine-tingling stories that will keep you up at night.
