30 Reasons To Read

Episode 1: Third Night

AUTHOR'S NOTE

When you don't find the stories you want to read, write them!

Looking for something fresh and spine-chilling? Dive into my unique collection of short stories, crafted with care and designed to keep you on the edge of your seat. These stories are 100% original-no recycled content from the internet. Every word, twist, and scare is my own creation.

If you're interested in translating any of these stories into other languages, I'd love to chat! Just reach out, and we can discuss the possibilities.

However, any unauthorized copying or use of my work will result in serious legal action.

All the characters and events depicted in this book are solely fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

© Copyrights owned
All rights reserved

┎┈┈┈┈┈┈┈୨♡୧┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┒
Happy reading! 🦋
┖┈┈┈┈┈┈┈୨♡୧┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┚

It had been a long, exhausting day. I was more than ready to leave the office and call it a night.

Everyone thinks being a cop is easy-until they walk a day in our shoes. If they only knew how much of a grind it was, how it slowly chips away at our lives. And as if dealing with criminals wasn't enough, we had to contend with prank-happy teens and the occasional copycat criminal that cropped up now and then, trying to outsmart us.

I was just about to dump the last of my paperwork in the drawer and rise from my worn leather chair when I heard three sharp knocks at the door.

"Yes? Come in."

Officer Tilak stepped in, looking hesitant. "There's a woman outside. She's demanding to speak with you."

I frowned. "What's the issue?"

He shrugged. "She won't say, but she seems... tense. Disturbed."

I sighed, sinking back into my chair, tossing my car keys onto the desk with a clatter. "Alright. Let her in."

Outside, the evening drizzle had escalated into a full-blown downpour. Thunder cracked in the distance, making the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. Stormy nights always left me uneasy, but what unsettled me even more? People showing up at my door late at night, delaying my much-needed rest.

The door opened, and in walked a woman-young, early twenties. She was soaked, her face pale beneath the flickering office light. I gestured to the chair opposite me, nodding for her to sit.

Her clothes desperately clung to her curves like a second skin, drenched from the relentless rain. Strands of wet, dark brown hair were stuck to her face and neck but she seemed too bothered to peel them away. She looked pale as her wide eyes reflected pure terror. Her fingers gripped the straps of her bag so tightly that her knuckles turned white, yet they trembled. I watched her, noting the nervous energy radiating from her as she took her seat with hesitation.

"How can I help you, Miss?" I asked, my voice steady.

"A man has been stalking me for the past two nights," she began, her voice quivering. "He follows me when I walk home from work, around eleven. There's this dark, empty street I have to cross... and he's always there. There's no alternate route for me to get home."

She bit her lip, looking like a jittery school kid who had just delivered a rehearsed speech. Her fear was palpable.

"What does he look like?" I asked, trying to focus.