night-stories

 The Last Room on the Left   The town of Elmbrook had one rule: never swim in the lake after sunset. Locals spoke of strange disappearances, of shadows under the water, and of voices that called out at night, mimicking the cries of lost children. But for eighteen-year-old Rachel, who had just moved in with her grandmother after her parents’ death, the lake was nothing more than a scenic distraction from grief. It shimmered under the sun, glassy and clear, surrounded by pine trees that swayed like sentinels. But once dusk approached, the lake transformed. The water turned a darker shade of black, no longer reflecting light but swallowing it whole. Locals would shut their windows, bolt their doors, and wait until morning. Rachel, of course, didn’t believe in curses or folklore. Not after everything she’d been through. Her reality was already haunted — but not by ghosts. So one evening, just past 7:30, when the sky was painted in streaks of purple and orange, she wandered down to...