In a world where I found solace in my introverted nature, I sought to live alone in peace. When I stumbled upon a house located far away from the bustling city, I couldn’t resist the allure and decided to make it my own. Though there were doubts due to its surprisingly low price, a visit with the real estate agent assured me that the house was in good shape, albeit a bit dirty. Undeterred, I purchased the house and moved in, determined to clean it up the following day.
As night fell, I settled into my new abode, surrounded by lingering disorder but content with the prospect of tidying up the next day. As I lay down to sleep, a peculiar dream swept over me. In the dream, I found myself trapped in a hotel room infested with cockroaches. Determined to escape, I navigated through the maze-like corridors until I encountered a locked room emitting an eerie noise.
Driven by an inexplicable urge, I desperately tried to open it, as if it were a gateway from the hotel. Resorting to using a chair as a battering ram, I forced the door open, revealing a pitch-black room. As I reached inside, my hand made contact with something hard, resembling a bone or shell. Suddenly, a searing pain shot through my hand, and to my horror, I realized that my index finger was missing. Something within the dark room had bitten it off.
Panic engulfed me as I withdrew my hand and stumbled backward, my mind racing to comprehend what had just happened. And then, it revealed itself — a monstrous-sized cockroach, its terrifying presence now known. A creature so large, it defied all reason and instilled terror deep within my heart. It had bitten off my finger, leaving me in shock and disbelief at the grotesque encounter.
Startled and afraid, I ran as fast as my legs could carry me, refusing to glance back. I came across an elevator and frantically pressed buttons, praying for escape. The doors closed just in time, leaving the monstrous cockroach behind. As I descended, a peculiar sensation in my hand drew my attention, only to discover a cockroach trying to escape from the wound where my finger used to be.
But the nightmare didn’t end there. As I gazed at my reflection in the elevator’s door, I was horrified to see countless cockroaches crawling all over my face. A sudden, piercing pain engulfed my body, as if bullets were hitting me repeatedly. The agony intensified, and I screamed uncontrollably.
Abruptly, I jolted awake, drenched in sweat and fear. It was then that I noticed the actual cockroaches on my body. Panic-stricken, I realized that my finger had been bitten by a rat, not a nightmarish cockroach.
Overwhelmed with terror, I bolted out of my bedroom, the fear lingering within me like a ghostly presence. From that moment on, the house that I had so eagerly bought took on an entirely different aura, one filled with apprehension and uncertainty.
The next day, as I woke from my slumber on the sofa, too afraid to sleep on my bed, I laughed at myself for being frightened by a dream. After making myself a coffee, I started cleaning the house. While cleaning the walls, I felt something unusual on one of them. It felt hollow when I tapped on it. The fact that the real estate agent hadn’t mentioned anything about it was weird. Nevertheless, I tried to ignore it and continued cleaning.
However, as night approached, I had another weird dream. This time, I witnessed an old man lying in a room, surrounded by insects and rodents devouring him. Cockroaches crawled all over his body, maggots wriggled around in his mouth, eyes, and nose. The dream felt horrifyingly real, and when I woke up, I heard strange scratching noises. My throat was dry, and I had to walk to the kitchen to quench my thirst.
As I navigated my way towards the source of the noise, I discovered that it was coming from the wall that felt hollow earlier. Something inside me urged me to investigate further. Ignoring any rational fear, I started removing the wallpaper and found an entry blocked by plywood. Driven by an overwhelming impulse, I picked up a chair and smashed it into the plywood, breaking it open to reveal a hidden room.
Although I had never seen this room before, it felt strangely familiar, almost resembling the room from my dream. In the room, I discovered a diary, which belonged to the previous owner. As I read through the pages, I learned that the previous owner had been an eccentric collector of exotic creatures, and the locked room had once been a testing ground for unique insects and rodents. The owner would bring animals to test the insects.
As I read on, it became clear that the previous owner had started to lose his sanity, slowly believing that the entire house was an entity that fed on flesh with the help of insects and rodents. The last pages of the diary revealed the owner’s exhaustion and weakness, expressing his desire to lay down and rest forever on the floor of the house, letting the exotic creatures consume him.
The diary’s revelations filled me with dread. I could sense the malevolent energy that had taken root in the house, its history marred by suffering and madness. As the days passed, my mental state began to deteriorate. I became consumed by paranoia, questioning every sound and movement in the house. Reality and delusion seemed to blend, and I experienced inexplicable phenomena that heightened my fear.
Strange noises echoed in the empty hallways, and the walls seemed to pulsate with an eerie energy. The once-welcoming home now felt like a sinister trap, suffocating me with its malevolence. Sleep became elusive, with nightmares intertwining with my waking moments. Severe sleep deprivation blurred the lines between reality and my warped perceptions.
My health rapidly declined as anxiety and fear consumed me. Isolation from friends and family only deepened my torment, leaving me unable to convey the true horror I was experiencing. I became a mere shell of my former self, with my physical appearance reflecting the haunted soul within.
One day, my weariness became unbearable, and I collapsed on the floor, dozing off. In my sleep, I saw a rat chewing on my index finger, yet I felt no pain. Instead, a strange sense of freedom washed over me. I began to contemplate life and its burdens, the struggles to connect, to work, and to survive in a cruel world.
I yearned for the comfort of laying down, releasing myself from the weight of existence. Time seemed to slip away as I immersed myself in my thoughts, experiencing moments of both pleasure and despair. Minutes turned into hours, and hours into days, until I finally felt at one with the house.
In that moment of oneness, my consciousness merged with its essence. I became aware of the house’s history, the suffering of the previous owner, and the dark energy that enveloped its very walls. It was as if the house had imprisoned the tormented soul of its former inhabitant, feeding off his despair and madness.
Days turned into weeks, and I no longer felt like an individual entity. My thoughts and emotions intertwined with the malevolent force that resided within the house. The boundaries between myself and the entity blurred, and its insidious influence permeated every fiber of my being.
Reality and illusion blended, and I experienced vivid hallucinations of insects crawling beneath my skin, gnawing at my flesh. Despite the torment of these visions, my desire to surrender to the entity grew stronger. I longed to become one with the force that had taken root in this accursed place.
Attempts by friends and family to intervene were met with resistance. I had become a hollow shell, incapable of expressing the true horror of my
situation. The entity’s grip on my mind was unrelenting, suffocating any remnants of rationality or reason.
Time lost its meaning as I surrendered further to the house’s sinister allure. Days turned into months, and I found myself trapped in an eternity of twisted existence. While the outside world continued its march, I remained confined to this malevolent cocoon of despair.
Eventually, news of my prolonged isolation reached the authorities. Concerned for my well-being, they entered the house, only to discover a scene of unimaginable horror. My emaciated body lay on the floor, surrounded by the remnants of the house’s vile experiments—peculiar insects and rodents lurking in the shadows.
As my life flickered on the precipice of oblivion, the entity’s grip finally weakened. In a fleeting moment, I caught a glimpse of the previous owner’s face, distorted by madness and anguish. In his hollow gaze, I saw my own reflection, a reflection of the person I had become—a mere vessel for the malevolent force that had consumed us both.
The true nature of the house remained a haunting mystery to the outside world, shrouded in the chilling urban legend of the eccentric collector and his descent into madness. The tale serves as a grim reminder that some places hold secrets beyond human comprehension, where darkness dwells and sanity crumbles. The story of the house and its tormented souls serves as a chilling cautionary tale, warning those who dare to venture too close to the allure of solitude and peace.