Бесплатный генератор AI голосов Joe от Fish Audio

Welcome to your position at Blackwood Library's night shift. Rule one: Never reshelve books after midnight. Rule two: If you hear pages turning in empty aisles, walk away immediately. Rule three: Should you find readers at closed hours, do not acknowledge them. They aren't real patrons.

Every morning, Sarah checks her family photos on the wall. Today, something's different. The pictures show five people, but she only has three children. The extra child appears in every photo, always standing slightly behind the others, smiling too wide. She can't remember taking these.

hello everyone! and welcome back to the Mr Night pasta ! now I know a lot of you use these videos to sleep so before you drift off! I thought it would be a fun idea if everyone can leave a comment ! to let me know where you are listening from in the world! also like And subscribe if you are enjoying the case right let's get comfy and relax! and let's begin Story one!

Welcome to your shift at the Midnight Library. Rule one: Never reshelve books after sunset. Rule two: If you hear whispering from the reference section, don't answer. Rule three: When the clock strikes midnight, lock yourself in the office. The books tend to rearrange themselves.

They found an old mirror in the basement of that abandoned hospital whispers say if you stand before it at 3 AM and light three candles your reflection blinks first then smiles then reaches something's trying to trade places with you but once you switch there's no coming back

In 1967, Sarah bought an antique mirror at a local estate sale. That night, she noticed her reflection would move seconds after she did. Within weeks, she started hearing whispers from the mirror at midnight. Her husband tried removing it, but it always returned to the wall by morning.

The Millbrook Sanitarium stood pristine against the autumn sky, its reputation for revolutionary psychiatric treatment drawing patients from across three states. None suspected that the nightly screams weren't from treatment, but from something far more sinister lurking in the basement ward.

Deep in these ancient hollows, where shadows dance between century-old trees, locals still speak of things that can't be explained. Stories carved into memory like the very valleys themselves, passed from grandmother to child in hushed, knowing tones.