The street was silent.
Not the normal kind of silence—this one felt dead, like the whole neighbourhood was holding its breath at the same time. The streetlights flickered every few seconds, throwing long, shaky shadows on the cracked pavement.
A girl walked alone through the street, clutching her bag close to her chest. Her footsteps echoed louder than they should have, bouncing off the walls of empty houses. Her eyes kept darting left and right, checking behind her every time she heard even the faintest sound.
She looked terrified.
Like someone—or something—was following her.
Her pace quickened.
Her breathing turned sharp.
Her fingers trembled as she wiped sweat from her forehead.
She didn't know what was following her.
She only knew it didn't feel human.
Her fast walk turned into a run. She didn't care if she looked scared. She didn't care if anyone saw. She just wanted to reach home. That was the only place she believed she would be safe… at least for tonight.
Finally, she reached her house, rushed inside, and slammed the door shut. The thud echoed through the silent rooms. She leaned back on the door, sliding down a little as she tried to calm her shaking limbs.
She took a deep breath—
another—
and then another—
until her heartbeat slowed a little.
She pushed her hair back and looked around her small living room. Everything was still. Everything looked normal. Maybe she was imagining it. Maybe stress was messing with her. Maybe—
But then she looked at the stairs.
And froze.
Her eyes widened.
Her legs refused to move.
Her mouth fell open, but no sound came out at first.
There was nothing visibly there—no figure, no shadow—but something on those stairs felt wrong. Terribly wrong. Like the darkness itself was watching her, breathing with her, moving closer.
Her fear hit its limit.
And then—
she screamed.
A scream so sharp and full of terror that even the quiet air outside seemed to shatter for a moment.
The next morning, two police cars, an ambulance, and a crowd of people filled the street that was silent the night before. Yellow tape surrounded the house. Officers walked in and out with grim faces.
The girl was dead.
No signs of struggle.
No wounds.
No weapon.
No fingerprints.
Just the same eerie pattern as all the murders before.
That neighborhood had carried a curse for years.
Every year, 18 people died under strange, suspicious, unexplained circumstances. No one knew who—or what—killed them. No one ever survived long enough to speak.
Some said it was a killer.
Some said it was a demon.
Some said the entire area was haunted.
But the truth had died with every victim.
On the other side of town, the news played on a television inside a small apartment.
A 16-year-old girl sat on the couch, watching with blank eyes while brushing crumbs off her school uniform. Her name was Christ, and she didn't look scared at all. She looked mildly annoyed… mostly because the news anchor was talking too loudly.
She stuffed a cookie in her mouth, grabbed her bag, and got up.
Downstairs, her two friends were waiting. One was pacing, the other tapping her foot impatiently.
"Christ! Why do you take so long every morning?" one of them complained.
Christ came down the stairs, still chewing her cookie, not even bothering to answer. Her friends stared at her like she was crazy.
"Did you see the news? Another murder!"
"This place is becoming cursed, I swear."
"What if the killer is around our school?"
Christ didn't even blink.
She just kept eating, expression flat like this was all normal.
As they walked to school, her friends continued discussing theories—ghosts, psychopaths, rituals, monsters—anything that made sense of the fear that hung in the air.
Christ didn't join the conversation once.
She didn't care about murders.
She didn't care about fear.
She didn't care about rumors.
All she cared about was finishing her cookies before class.
But what she didn't know was…
Something was watching her.
Not her friends.
Not the police.
Not the neighbors.
Something from the same darkness that killed the girl last night.
And it was following Christ more closely than any of them realized.