The House That Wouldn’t Let Her Leave

Anna had always wanted a peaceful life. When she found the little green cottage for rent, she couldn’t believe her luck.

It was perfect—nestled in a quiet town, surrounded by wildflowers, with a cozy porch where she could drink her morning coffee. It felt like a dream come true.

The landlord had been eager to rent it out, offering a price far lower than she expected. “I just want someone to take care of it,” he had said, almost too quickly.

Anna didn’t question it. She signed the lease, packed her things, and moved in.

The first few days were blissful. The sun painted the porch golden in the afternoons, the scent of fresh flowers lingered in the air, and she slept deeply for the first time in years.

But then, things started to change.

Night One: The Door

On her first night, she awoke to a strange sound.

A soft click.

Half-asleep, she sat up and looked toward the door.

It was open. Just slightly.

A chill ran through her. She was sure she had locked it before bed. She got up, checked the lock, and convinced herself it was just a mistake.

But the next morning, it happened again.

And the morning after that.

Every night, no matter how many times she locked it, the door would be open by morning.

Night Three: The Chair

Anna decided to keep a closer eye on things. That evening, she sat on the porch, sipping tea, watching the sun set behind the trees.

That’s when she noticed the rocking chair.

It was moving.

Not much—just a slow, steady sway. The breeze was barely there, not strong enough to push it.

She stepped closer.

The chair stopped.

Something about it made her uneasy, so she draped a blanket over it before heading inside.

The next morning, the blanket was neatly folded on the chair.

And the front door was open again.

Night Five: The Note

Anna couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right. She searched the house, checking every drawer, every creaky floorboard, looking for answers.

That’s when she found it.

A small, crumpled note tucked behind a loose board under the porch.

Her hands trembled as she unfolded it.

“If the door opens at night, do not step outside. It wants you to leave.”

The words sent ice through her veins.

She ran back inside, locking the door, barricading it with a chair. She barely slept, heart pounding with every creak of the house.

At exactly 3:12 AM, the doorknob rattled.

Then…

A knock.

Soft. Gentle.

And then a whisper, just outside the door.

“Anna… it’s time to go.”

She clapped her hands over her ears, refusing to listen, refusing to move.

The knocking stopped.

Morning came. The door was open.

But this time, something had changed.

The rocking chair was facing the door.

And there were fresh footprints in the dirt.

Leading away from the porch.