The Hidden Door
For years, Daniel had dreamed of living in a minimalist home—one with clean lines, open spaces, and nothing but nature around him. When he finally found the perfect property, he spared no expense designing his dream house: a stunning, modern home built from reclaimed shipping containers, blending industrial style with warm, natural finishes.
It was perfect.
The first few weeks were peaceful. Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, reflecting off the dark metal exterior. The gentle sound of the creek running alongside the house made the space feel even more serene.
But then, small things started to feel off.
The Cold Spot
At first, it was just the floor in the hallway.
Even on the hottest summer days, the planks near the back wall were ice-cold underfoot.
He checked for drafts, for leaks—anything that could explain it. But the house was sealed tight. The builders assured him there was nothing wrong.
But every morning, the cold spot grew larger.
By the end of the week, half the house felt frozen.
The Shadows in the Glass
Daniel tried to ignore it.
Then, one night, as he sat on the deck sipping whiskey, he saw something move inside.
A shadow.
It passed behind the glass walls, slow and deliberate.
He froze.
He was alone.
Heart pounding, he stepped inside, searching every room, every corner. Nothing was out of place.
But as he turned to leave the hallway, he caught something in his peripheral vision.
The reflection in the glass.
A figure, standing in the cold spot.
Watching.
The Hidden Door
By now, Daniel was sleeping with the lights on. He convinced himself it was paranoia, stress, exhaustion.
Until the day he found the door.
It was hidden behind a wooden panel near the back of the house, a section he’d never paid much attention to. The grain of the wood disguised it perfectly, but when he ran his hand along the wall, he felt it—a faint outline. A seam.
A door that wasn’t on the blueprints.
His stomach tightened.
Slowly, he pried it open.
Behind it was another room. Small. Dark. Made entirely of steel.
And on the walls—
Scratch marks.
Deep, jagged claw marks running from floor to ceiling.
His breath came in short, panicked gasps. He turned to leave—
And the door slammed shut behind him.
The Truth Beneath the House
It took hours before he could force the door open again.
He packed a bag, ready to leave for good, but something stopped him.
A thought.
He had bought the shipping containers from an international seller, barely asking any questions. They had been repurposed, stripped, and built into a home—but what had they been before that?
He pulled up the old serial number still stamped into the steel and ran a search.
The container had once belonged to a transport vessel.
A vessel that had disappeared at sea for two years before reappearing—empty.
No crew.
No cargo.
Just deep claw marks inside.
Daniel didn’t stay long enough to find out what had been inside his home before him.
And the next owner?
They’ll think it’s just a house.
Until the floor turns cold.
Until the shadows move.
Until they find the door.
