Horror voice Fish AudioによるAIボイスジェネレーター

They told us not to talk about the night shifts. Not even whispers. The cameras watched everything, recorded everything. But sometimes... sometimes I'd hear things in the lower levels. Things that shouldn't... well, you know how it goes.

I remember the old music box in Sarah's attic. We found it last summer, covered in decades of dust. The melody it played wasn't quite right - too slow, too deep. Sarah disappeared three days later. Her parents moved away, but that tune still echoes in my dreams.

Sitting by the window this morning, watching leaves dance in the breeze. Reminds me of autumn days at your grandfather's house. The wind would rustle through those big maple trees, and we'd all gather inside for hot cider. Funny how memories just float by.

They found an old camera in a drained lake last Tuesday, its lens caked in black silt. When the film was developed, the images weren't of scenery, but of a human stomach. Each photo showed a different, undigested wedding ring, and the photographer’s own reflection in a bloody scalpel.

I can see you through the window. Every night. Watching. Waiting. You think you're safe behind those locked doors. But I'm already inside. Your time is running out. Soon.

Warning: not for the fainharted

Late at night, the phone rang and a voice whispered my full name. I hung up, shaking, only to hear the same voice coming from the baby monitor in the next room. I live alone, and I realized someone had been watching me through the window for weeks.

Late one night, you hear a whisper coming from your closet, calling your name. You live alone and your doors are double-locked. As you slowly reach for the handle, you realize the voice isn't coming from inside the closet, but from right behind you.