(Third Person Limited – Karan)
Karan Mehra didn't remember the house being this quiet.
Not normal quiet.
This was something else.
The kind of silence that pressed against your ears… like it didn't want to be broken.
He stood at the gate for a moment longer than necessary.
His fingers tightened around the handle of his bag.
"Why does this feel wrong…" he muttered under his breath.
The house stood in front of him, unchanged.
Same pale walls.
Same narrow windows.
Same feeling.
A strange, crawling familiarity settled in his chest.
Not comfort.
Something heavier.
Like a memory he wasn't supposed to remember.
Karan exhaled slowly and stepped forward.
The gate creaked shut behind him.
Loud.
Too loud.
He flinched.
"I didn't—"
Click.
Locked.
Karan turned.
His heartbeat quickened.
There was no wind.
No one around.
Still—
It locked.
"Okay… relax," he whispered to himself.
But his voice sounded wrong.
Like it didn't belong in this place.
He stepped inside.
The air changed instantly.
Colder.
Damp.
And faintly… rotten.
Karan's nose wrinkled.
"What is that smell…?"
No answer.
Of course.
His gaze drifted across the hallway—
And stopped.
The clock.
Hanging crooked on the wall.
3:17 AM.
Frozen.
Karan frowned.
"That's… not possible."
He took a step closer.
The second hand jerked.
Once.
Twice.
Then—
Stopped.
Again.
Silence swallowed the sound.
And for a moment…
Everything felt still.
Too still.
Then—
A sound.
Behind him.
Soft.
Almost nothing.
A shift.
Like someone adjusting their weight.
Karan's breath hitched.
He didn't turn.
Couldn't.
Because something inside him already knew—
He wasn't alone.
A cold breath brushed past his ear.
So close it made his skin crawl.
And then—
A whisper.
Broken.
Familiar.
"Karan…"
His eyes widened.
The voice came again.
Slower this time.
Clearer.
"…you came back."
Karan spun around.
Nothing.
Empty hallway.
No movement.
No sound.
Just silence.
But his chest felt tight.
Because the fear wasn't coming from what he saw—
It was coming from what he felt.
Recognition.
Like…
He had heard something....
First Night
(Third Person Limited — Karan)
Karan didn't move for a long time after the whisper faded.
The hallway stood empty, exactly as it had been seconds ago.
No footsteps.
No shadows.
No sign that anyone—or anything—had been there.
And yet…
His skin still prickled where the breath had touched him.
"Karan… you came back."
The words echoed in his head, softer now, but heavier.
He swallowed hard and forced himself to breathe.
"Okay. Enough."
His voice sounded thin.
Forced.
"This is just stress. New place. Old memories."
But even as he said it, something inside him resisted the explanation.
Because it hadn't felt like imagination.
It had felt…
Personal.
He dragged his bag further into the house, the wheels scraping faintly against the uneven floor. The sound felt too loud, like it didn't belong here—like the house didn't want noise.
Every step he took stirred something in his chest.
A strange familiarity.
Not clear enough to remember.
But strong enough to unsettle.
He passed the living room.
The furniture was covered in white sheets, the fabric yellowed with age. One of them shifted slightly as he walked past.
Karan stopped.
Turned.
The sheet was still.
"…wind," he muttered.
But the windows were closed.
All of them.
He stared for a few seconds longer before forcing himself to look away.
"Don't start this," he whispered. "Not already."
The staircase creaked under his weight as he climbed to the first floor.
Each step gave a long, tired groan.
As if the house was aware of him.
Watching him.
Counting his steps.
Karan clenched his jaw and kept going.
At the top of the stairs, a narrow corridor stretched ahead—lined with doors.
Most of them were slightly open.
Dark inside.
Waiting.
He didn't like that thought.
He didn't like any of this.
His eyes scanned the doors until something caught his attention.
One of them—
Was closed.
Completely.
Unlike the others.
Karan frowned.
"That wasn't—"
He stopped himself.
He had just arrived.
There was no way he could know what was open or closed before.
Still…
It felt wrong.
Like that door wasn't supposed to be there.
He stepped closer.
Slowly.
Each step felt heavier than the last.
The air near the door was colder.
Noticeably colder.
His fingers hovered near the handle.
He hesitated.
A strange thought crossed his mind—
Don't open it.
The thought wasn't loud.
It wasn't even his.
But it was there.
Clear.
Sharp.
And immediate.
Karan pulled his hand back.
"What the hell…"
He took a step away.
Then another.
Without opening it.
Something inside him tightened—
Relief.
And something else.
Disappointment.
His room was at the end of the corridor.
At least—
He thought it was.
The moment he pushed the door open, a wave of recognition hit him so suddenly it made him pause.
Same window.
Same desk.
Same cracked corner near the wall.
Karan blinked.
"How do I remember this…?"
He hadn't been here in years.
He shouldn't remember details like this.
And yet—
It felt like he had never left.
He dropped his bag on the bed, dust rising in soft clouds.
The room smelled old.
Closed.
Like it had been waiting.
Just like the rest of the house.
Karan shook his head and opened the window.
Cool air rushed in.
Fresh.
Normal.
For the first time since arriving, he felt like he could breathe.
"See?" he muttered to himself. "Nothing's wrong."
But even as the words left his mouth—
Something felt off.
He glanced back at the door.
Still open.
Still normal.
And yet…
For a brief second—
He thought he saw someone standing there.
Watching him.
Karan blinked.
Nothing.
Empty space.
He let out a shaky breath.
"Okay… I need sleep."
Night fell faster than he expected.
The house grew quieter.
Darker.
He lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling.
The silence returned.
Heavier now.
Thicker.
Like it was building around him.
His phone screen glowed faintly beside him.
11:46 PM.
Too early to feel this tired.
Too late to feel comfortable.
He turned to his side.
Closed his eyes.
And waited for sleep to come.
It didn't.
Instead—
Time passed.
Slowly.
Unevenly.
At some point, Karan must have drifted off.
Because when he opened his eyes again—
The room felt different.
Colder.
Darker.
And completely still.
He frowned and turned toward the window.
Closed.
He sat up immediately.
"I opened that…"
His voice barely came out.
The air felt heavy.
Hard to breathe.
His gaze shifted to the clock on his phone.
3:17 AM.
Karan's chest tightened.
"No…"
He looked toward the wall instinctively.
Even though there was no clock in his room.
Still—
For a second—
He expected to see one.
Frozen.
Tap.
The sound came from somewhere in the room.
Soft.
Rhythmic.
Karan froze.
Tap… tap… tap…
It was slow.
Deliberate.
Like someone knocking.
But not on the door.
Closer.
Much closer.
His eyes moved—very slowly—
Toward the wall beside his bed.
The tapping continued.
From inside the wall.
Karan's breath hitched.
"That's not possible…"
Tap… tap…
His heart started pounding.
Louder than the sound.
Louder than everything.
And then—
The tapping stopped.
Silence.
Deep.
Complete.
For a moment, nothing happened.
And then—
A voice.
Faint.
Muffled.
As if coming through something thick.
Through something solid.
Right next to him.
Inside the wall.
"…Karan…"
His body went rigid.
"…open…"
The voice trembled.
Broken.
Desperate.
"…open the door…"
Karan shook his head slowly.
"No…"
But there was no door there.
Just the wall.
Cold.
Still.
Impossible.
The voice came again.
Closer this time.
Stronger.
"…let me out…"
Karan stumbled back from the bed, his legs weak.
"This isn't real… this isn't real…"
His breathing turned uneven.
Fast.
Sharp.
He pressed his back against the opposite wall.
Staring.
Waiting.
The wall remained unchanged.
Silent.
As if nothing had happened.
Minutes passed.
Or maybe seconds.
He didn't know.
But eventually—
The silence returned.
Complete.
Karan stayed awake the rest of the night.
Sitting in the corner.
Watching.
Listening.
Waiting for something—
Anything—
To happen again.
But nothing did.
Morning came slowly.
Light filtered through the window.
Normal.
Warm.
Safe.
Too safe.
Karan blinked, exhausted.
For a moment—
Everything felt fine.
Like the night had never happened.
Like it had all been a dream.
He let out a tired breath.
"Yeah… just a dream."
He stood up.
Walked toward the door.
Reached for the handle—
And stopped.
Because scratched into the wood—
From the inside—
Were words.
Uneven.
Desperate.
Deep.
As if carved with nails.
Karan stared at them.
His hands trembling.
The message read—
"DON'T OPEN IT AT 3:17"
His throat went dry.
Slowly—
Very slowly—
Karan turned his head…
Toward the wall.