Scary stories I wrote

The Closet

Hannah had never been a believer in the supernatural, but when she moved into her new apartment, something felt off. The place was small, old, and drafty, but she figured it would do until she could afford something better. The rent was cheap, almost suspiciously so, but she shrugged it off as luck. The landlord had only warned her about one thing: "Keep the closet door closed at night."

She laughed it off at the time. Superstitious nonsense, she thought.

The first few nights were uneventful. The apartment creaked and groaned as old buildings do, but Hannah settled in just fine. She kept the closet door closed, not because of the landlord's warning, but out of habit. She didn't even think about it until one night, when she came home late from work, exhausted. She tossed her coat on the chair, kicked off her shoes, and collapsed into bed without a second thought.

That night, she woke up to the sound of slow, deliberate creaking. Groggy and disoriented, she blinked in the dark. The room was cold, colder than usual. She reached for her phone, the dim glow of the screen casting long shadows over the walls. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw the closet door. It was slightly ajar.

"I must have left it open," she muttered to herself. But as she swung her legs out of bed to close it, she froze.

A soft, raspy voice came from inside the closet, barely above a whisper. "Hannah..."

Her blood ran cold. It was her voice-exactly her voice-calling her name. She stood there, paralyzed, as the door creaked open just a little more, revealing nothing but pitch blackness inside.

"Hannah... come closer," the voice called again, a perfect mimic of her tone, her cadence, as if she were speaking to herself from inside the closet.

Every instinct in her body screamed to run, to get away from that door, but she couldn't move. Slowly, something began to emerge from the darkness, something humanoid, but horribly wrong. It was bent at odd angles, its limbs too long, its skin pale and stretched thin. Worst of all, it had her face.

The creature stepped into the moonlight, its hollow eyes fixed on her, and it smiled-a twisted, unnatural smile that didn't belong on her face.

"Don't be afraid," it said in her voice, though the sound grated now, like something imitating a voice it didn't fully understand. It stepped closer, its movements jerky and unnatural. "I just want to be you."

Hannah stumbled backward, her heart racing, but the creature lunged, fast and silent, closing the distance between them. She barely managed to slam the closet door shut, her hands shaking as she twisted the lock.

The apartment was silent once more.

She stayed up the rest of the night, sitting against the wall, staring at the closed closet door, too terrified to move. Every so often, she would hear faint tapping from inside, followed by the soft sound of her own voice, whispering to be let out.

By morning, she had packed her bags and fled the apartment. She never returned. The landlord never questioned why.

Years later, someone else moved into that same apartment, and the landlord gave them the same advice: "Keep the closet door closed at night." But, like Hannah, they didn't listen.

And the mimic was always hungry.

Word count, not including this: 568