Emma lived in a quiet neighborhood where nothing ever happened. Her small house backed onto a dense forest, and at night, it was so silent she could hear her own breathing.
One night, as the clock struck midnight, she heard a knock at the door. It was strange—she wasn't expecting anyone. Peering through the peephole, she saw nothing.
Shrugging it off, she locked the door and went back to bed. But just as she pulled up the covers, the knock came again—louder this time.
"Who's there?" she called out, her voice shaking.
Silence.
Emma grabbed her phone, ready to call for help, but as she turned toward the door, she noticed something chilling: the front door wasn't locked anymore.
She swore she had locked it earlier. Trembling, she tiptoed closer and swung the door open.
Nobody was there.
But when she looked down, she saw footprints—wet, muddy ones—leading from the forest straight to her house.
And then, from behind her, a whisper:
"You left the door open."