Генератор голосов AI horror от Fish Audio

Welcome to your shift at Darkwood Hospital's morgue. Rule one: never turn off the lights. Rule two: if you hear humming from drawer 13, don't open it. Rule three: at 2 AM, ignore the children's laughter. If the elevator opens empty, don't step inside. Good luck.

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.

The basement door always creaked twice at midnight. Not once, not three times - exactly twice. I noticed this pattern last summer, but never told anyone. Mom would dismiss it, like she dismissed the shadows that moved against the kitchen walls when we were alone.

Rule number three: If you see a woman in a white dress standing at the corner of Broadway and Canal Street, don't stop. Even if your meter light turns on automatically. Keep driving and don't look in your rearview mirror until you've crossed three intersections.

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.

3 ways to escape the shadow figure. One, if you hear footsteps behind you, don't look back or it will get closer. Two, keep walking at a steady pace. Three, when you reach a lit area, only then should you turn around. Remember, panic is your enemy.

Have you heard about the Yuba County Five? In 1978, five young men vanished after a basketball game in California. Their car was found months later, and one body was discovered in a trailer, but the other four? They simply disappeared into the wilderness. The most chilling part? The heat was still running in their abandoned car.

The footsteps upstairs always stop at the third floorboard, right above my bed. I've counted seventeen times now. Mom says it's just the house settling, but houses don't wear shoes that scratch against wood at exactly 3:27 AM.