The Secret of That Night
It was a cold December night. I was walking through an old, silent street on the edge of the city. The sky was clear, but there was something heavy in the air… something that made me feel uneasy, as if the night was hiding a secret.
I quickened my steps, but then I heard it—
A soft, distant sound.
Someone was crying.
I stopped.
The sound was coming from a narrow, dark alley.
Fear and curiosity pulled me at the same time.
I took a deep breath and slowly stepped inside. The alley was empty… no people, no lights… nothing.
Then the crying came again—this time closer.
My heartbeat raced.
As I moved forward, I noticed something on the ground near a broken, old bench… a small, wet diary.
But there had been no rain that night.
I picked it up. The cover was cold, freezing cold. And on the front page, only one sentence was written:
“I want to go home.”
Suddenly, I felt a soft breath behind me.
I turned quickly—no one.
The cold grew sharper, as if someone had placed ice on my shoulders.
I opened the diary again. On the first page, a message was written:
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