u/DibyazurRahman2010

Daniel had spent days trying to find the man behind the murders.
The evidence kept leading nowhere.
The Punisher had disappeared.
Then, one night, the police received a call about a suspicious man standing outside an abandoned building.
Daniel and several officers arrived.
A man was standing in the darkness.
Adrian.
He looked exhausted. His clothes were dirty, his eyes were empty, and for the first time, he didn’t look like someone who wanted to fight.
Daniel pointed his gun at him.
“Don’t move.”
Adrian slowly raised his hands.
“I know why you’re here.”
Daniel stared at him.
“You’re the Punisher.”
Adrian smiled faintly.
“You finally figured it out.”
One of the officers looked at Daniel.
“Detective?”
Daniel kept his gun aimed at Adrian.
“Adrian Cross. You’re under arrest for the murders of Marcus Vane, Damon Rook, Viktor Kane, Elena Rose, Ethan Cole, and several others.”
Adrian said nothing.
Daniel stepped closer.
“Where is the mask?”
Adrian looked at him.
“You’ll never find it.”
Before Daniel could respond, Adrian suddenly reached into his pocket.
The officers reacted instantly.
“DROP IT!”
Adrian pulled out a small knife.
The officers fired.
Adrian fell to the ground.
Daniel rushed toward him, but it was already too late.
Adrian Cross was dead.
Daniel stared at his body.
He finally had the man behind the murders.
But Adrian was never going to stand trial.
The officers searched the building.
They found no mask.
No weapons.
No photographs.
Nothing that directly connected Adrian to the Punisher.
One officer looked at Daniel.
“You’re sure this was him?”
Daniel looked at Adrian’s body.
“Yes.”
“But we have nothing.”
Daniel said nothing.
He knew the truth.
But nobody else could prove it.

Earlier that night, Adrian had secretly met one of his biggest fans.
The fan had no idea who Adrian really was.
Adrian gave him a mask.
“I’m going away,” he said.
“Where?”
“Don’t ask.”
The fan looked at the mask.
“What am I supposed to do with this?”
Adrian looked at him.
“Continue the job.”
“The Punisher?”
Adrian nodded.
“People still need justice.”
The fan slowly put on the mask.
Adrian walked away.
The fan never saw his face clearly.
He never learned his name.

The next morning, the news reported Adrian’s death.
“Judge Adrian Cross killed during a police confrontation.”
People mourned him.
“They killed a respectable man,” one officer said.
Daniel watched silently.
“Maybe we were wrong about him.”
Daniel looked at the television.
He knew they weren’t wrong.
Adrian Cross had been the Punisher.
But there was no longer a killer to arrest.
And there was no evidence strong enough to convince the world.
Nobody knew what Adrian had really been.
Except Daniel.
Then, somewhere across the city, a man put on the mask.
A new criminal had already been chosen.
The Punisher’s work had begun again.
Adrian Cross was gone.
But the Punisher was never just one man.
THE PUNISHER WILL RETURN. 🖤⚖️

I saw him on Halloween night.

I was walking home late when I saw a man in a white mask dragging an axe toward my neighbor's house. I thought it was a costume. A prank. But he didn't knock. He didn't ring the bell. He just walked through the front door like he owned the place.

I stood there — frozen — watching through the window.

I saw him raise the axe. The father. The mother. The daughter. They didn't have time to scream. He didn't stop. He moved from room to room like he was checking off a list.

When he finished, he walked out the same way he came — dragging his axe behind him, stepping over the bodies, heading to the next house.

I ran home. I locked the door. I didn't sleep.

The next morning, the news was everywhere.

"Halloween massacre leaves 14 dead across the neighborhood. No suspects. No motive. No survivors."

I knew the truth. I saw his face. His white mask. The axe. But I didn't tell them.

Because I knew — he wasn't done.

And I know he'll be back.

Ethan Cole reached his house and locked the door behind him.
His hands were still shaking.
He couldn’t stop thinking about what he had seen inside that warehouse.
The mask.
The axe.
The murder.
He sat on his bed and stared at his phone.
He had recorded everything.
For several minutes, he thought about calling the police.
Then he stopped.
What if they didn’t believe him?
What if the killer found out?
Ethan looked at the recording again.
Then he put his phone away.
He would go to the police tomorrow.
He just needed to survive the night.

Across the city, Adrian Cross had already chosen his next target.
The next morning, Adrian walked into the police station.
“I saw someone suspicious last night,” he said. “I think he might have been a thief. Can I see the CCTV footage?”
The officer pulled up the footage.
Adrian watched carefully.
Nothing.
No sign of himself.
He slowly relaxed.
Then he noticed something else.
A young man had been standing near the warehouse.
Adrian memorized his face.
Before leaving, he discreetly took a picture of the CCTV screen.
That evening, Adrian hired a private investigator.
He gave him one simple task.
“Find the man from the footage.”
A few hours later, Adrian received a message containing an address and a name.
Ethan Cole.
Adrian stared at the screen.
Then he smiled.
He had found him.

That night, Ethan couldn’t sleep.
Every sound outside made him look toward the window.
A car passed.
He froze.
Footsteps sounded somewhere outside.
He grabbed his phone.
Nothing.
Then—
Knock.
Ethan sat up.
Another knock.
Knock. Knock.
“Who is it?”
Silence.
Ethan slowly walked toward the door.
“Who is there?”
Nothing.
He stepped closer.
Then a voice came from the other side.
“The Punisher.”
Ethan’s face went pale.
The door suddenly shook.
CRASH.
The door broke open.
Adrian stepped inside.
The dark mask covered his face.
The axe was in his hand.
Ethan stumbled backward.
“No… please…”
Adrian looked at him.
“You saw something you shouldn’t have.”
Ethan tried to run.
Adrian stopped him.
Minutes later, the house became silent.
Ethan was dead.
Beside him was a small note.
GUILTY.
Adrian looked at the body for a moment.
Then he left.

The next morning, police arrived.
Another dead body.
Another mysterious message.
Another case for the Punisher.
But this time, something was different.
Detective Daniel Mercer stood inside Ethan’s room.
He noticed Ethan’s phone lying beneath the bed.
He picked it up.
The screen was locked.
Then he noticed a notification.
“Video backup completed.”
Mercer’s eyes widened.
The video hadn’t been deleted.
It had already been uploaded.
He opened the backup.
The screen showed the warehouse.
The killer.
The axe.
The mask.
And then, for a few seconds—
Adrian Cross.
Mercer stared at the screen.
He knew that face.
Everyone in the city knew it.
Judge Adrian Cross.
He slowly closed the phone.
For months, the city had been searching for the Punisher.
Now Mercer knew exactly who he was.
And Adrian had no idea.
The hunter had finally become the hunted.

Judge Adrian Cross was respected by everyone.
He was calm. Intelligent. Fair.
And he hated criminals.
For years, Adrian watched murderers, gang leaders, drug dealers, and crime bosses walk free because of technicalities, corrupt witnesses, or expensive lawyers.
Then people started dying.
Marcus Vane, a notorious street gangster, was found dead.
Then Damon Rook, a drug lord.
Then Viktor Kane, one of the city’s biggest crime bosses.
The police called them unrelated accidents.
The public didn’t.
One night, every television station was talking about it.
“Three notorious criminals have died in unrelated incidents. Some believe a mysterious vigilante may be responsible.”
Another reporter added:
“Online, people have begun calling the unknown killer… The Punisher.”
Social media exploded.
“Finally, someone is doing what the courts can’t.”
“He’s cleaning the city.”
“THE PUNISHER IS A HERO.”
Adrian watched from his living room.
He smiled.
But deep down, he knew the truth.
Heroes don’t enjoy killing.
And Adrian did.
His girlfriend, Elena Rose, began noticing changes.
Adrian disappeared at night.
He stopped talking about his cases.
One evening, Elena followed him.
She found his hidden room.
Photographs.
Court documents.
Names.
Every victim.
Every murder.
She turned around.
Adrian was standing behind her.
“Tell me this isn’t you.”
“You killed them?”
“I thought I was giving them justice.”
“And now?”
“I don’t know anymore.”
“You need help.”
Adrian looked at her.
“I love you.”
She understood.
“No…”
Adrian killed her.
Later, police found Elena’s death listed as an accident.
Another case closed.
Another secret buried.
And Adrian continued.

Months passed.
The murders became more brutal.
The victims were no longer criminals who had escaped punishment.
Adrian began choosing people because he wanted to kill them.
The public still worshipped the unknown killer.
The newspapers called him a hero.
Online, people demanded more deaths.
Adrian began believing them.
Maybe he really was a hero.
But deep down, he knew he was becoming something else.
He was becoming obsessed with killing.

One night, Adrian entered an abandoned warehouse.
His latest victim was waiting.
The lights flickered.
Adrian tightened his grip on his axe.
His victim begged.
Adrian said nothing.
THUD.
The man fell.
Adrian walked toward the exit.
He wasn’t thinking about justice anymore.
He just wanted to kill again.
But this time…
someone was watching.
Across the street, a young man stood behind a cracked warehouse window.
He had seen everything.
The killing.
The mask.
The judge’s face.
He pulled out his phone and started recording.
Adrian suddenly stopped.
His head turned toward the window.
The young man froze.
Adrian couldn’t see him clearly.
But he knew.
Someone was there.
The young man ran.
Adrian stepped outside.
He looked down the empty street.
Then he smiled.
The young man looked back.
Adrian was gone.
END OF CHAPTER 1 🖤⚖️

I turned 18 last month. My family is happy — my mother Eleanor, my father Marcus, and my grandmother Ruth. I have two best friends in college, Maya and Sophia. I don't really talk to boys, but I have a crush on one — Ethan.

The first time I saw him, I was completely shocked. He was so handsome. One day, I saw him at the gym, lifting weights. He looked so hot, pulling weights. I couldn't stop staring.

Only my grandmother knew about him. I was too shy to tell my parents. My friends knew, and they kept telling me to confess. I tried many times — but I couldn't.

Then one day, after class, he came up to me.

"Are you free today?" he asked.

I was completely shocked. I said yes. Fully yes. I told my friends. They said, "This is your chance. Tell him tonight."

He took me to a cafe. He looked at me and said, "I know you have a crush on me. I actually like you too. Will you be my girlfriend?"

I was so shocked, I couldn't believe it was real. I was blushing. I said yes.

We watched a movie. We had dinner. He walked me home. When we reached my house, he held my hand and smiled. I ran inside, so shy I couldn't sleep that night.

Months passed. We were very happy together.

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. I asked him to join us.

"Can you come tomorrow?" I said.

"Why?" he asked.

"I want to introduce you to my family."

He said, "OK, sure."

The next day, everything went normally — talks, jokes, fun. But I noticed something strange. My father didn't say a word the whole time. He just sat there, silent.

After dinner, Ethan said, "Thanks for today. I'll meet you tomorrow."

I went to my room and texted him. Then I saw my father going outside. I thought he was going for a walk.

An hour later, he came back. He didn't say a word. He went straight to his room and slept.

Everyone else slept too. But Ethan always sent me a goodnight message. That night, he didn't. I thought he was tired.

The next morning, the news came. A boy named Ethan was killed brutally last night. The police found nothing.

I was shattered. I cried for months. My father was silent, but he never said a word about it.

Months passed. I started to heal. One day, my father wasn't home. I don't know why, but I went into his room.

I found Ethan's phone hidden under his bed.

I knew the password. I unlocked it.

There was one video — the last thing Ethan ever recorded.

I pressed play.

The video was shaky. Ethan was bleeding. His voice was weak. He was whispering into the camera.

"Lena… if you're watching this… it was your father. He came to my house that night. He said he wanted to talk. He attacked me. He said I wasn't good enough for you. He said… he would do anything to keep me away."

The video cut off.

I sat there, frozen, staring at the screen.

My father had killed Ethan.

The man who raised me. The man who taught me how to ride a bike. The man who told me he loved me every night.

And then I felt a cold breath on my neck.

I turned around.

My father was standing at the door.

He smiled.

"You weren't supposed to find that."

\---

THE END

I'm open to paid narrations and collaborations. DM me with your rates.

College was supposed to be fun. For Emma, Jake, Sophia, Liam, and Chloe, it was the best time of their lives. Until the night they broke a rule they didn't know existed.

Emma found the deck at a flea market. Old. Wrapped in black silk. The vendor warned her: "Never let anyone else touch it. It chooses its owner."

She didn't believe in curses. She bought it for the aesthetic.

That weekend, she brought it to a party. Her friends were curious.

"Let's do a reading," she said. "I'll draw for each of you."

The first card was for Jake: The Hanged Man. They laughed. He joked about losing his phone. They all laughed.

The second card was for Sophia: The Tower. She shrugged. "I've been wanting a change anyway."

The third card was for Liam: Death. He went quiet. Emma said, "It means transformation, not actual death."

The fourth card was for Chloe: The Fool. She smiled. "That's me, I guess."

The fifth card was for Emma: The Devil. She laughed. "I don't need a card to tell me I'm toxic."

She placed the deck back in the box. The night continued.

The next morning, Jake didn't show up for class. They found him in his dorm room. Hanged. The rope was tied to the ceiling fan. His eyes were wide open.

Sophia couldn't stop crying. She stayed in her room all day.

The next day, she was in a car accident. The car flipped — a tower of metal and glass. She didn't survive. Her last call was to Emma: "I feel like something is watching me."

Liam started checking his door every night. Locking it twice. He stopped leaving his room.

The next day, he was found dead. No wounds. No struggle. Just silence. His phone was on. A video was paused — a tarot reading tutorial.

Chloe tried to run. She packed her bags and drove away. They found her at the bottom of a cliff. Like she had walked off without looking. Her car was still on the road.

Emma was the only one left.

She burned the deck. She watched the cards curl and blacken.

She thought it was over.

She woke up the next morning to find a single card on her pillow: The Devil.

She looked in the mirror. Her reflection smiled at her.

It wasn't her.

She ran to the backyard.

The ashes were gone.

The deck was sitting on the ground — untouched. Unburned.

She picked it up. It was cold.

She opened it. A note fell out — handwritten, old.

"Emma was not the first."

\---

THE END

She thought the worst was over. She was wrong.

The stalker had been inside her apartment again. She knew it. She found a note on her mirror, written in red ink:

"I've been here before. And I'll be here again."

She ran to the police. They came to her house. They searched every room, every closet, every corner.

"There's nothing here," they said. "No evidence. No proof."

She begged them to believe her.

"He's been inside," she said. "He's watching me."

The officer looked at her with pity.

"Ma'am, you need to get some rest."

They left.

She was alone again.

She locked every door. She checked every window.

That night, she woke up to find him sitting on her bed.

He didn't move. He just watched.

"You can't run from me," he said. "I'll always find you."

She wanted to scream — but no sound came out.

He stood up. Walked toward her. Placed a photograph on her lap.

A picture of her, sleeping — taken from inside her room.

"I've been here all along," he said.

He smiled and walked out of the room.

She heard the front door open — then close.

She was alone.

But the photograph was still in her hands.

And written on the back:

"I'll see you tomorrow."

She didn't sleep that night. She sat in the corner, waiting.

He came at 3:17 AM.

She had the knife ready.

She didn't scream. She didn't run.

She looked at him and said:

"If I'm yours… then I'll take myself away from you."

Before he could react, she turned the knife on herself.

He screamed.

He ran to her body, shaking.

But she was already gone.

He knelt beside her, holding her hand.

"You can't leave me," he whispered.

He picked up the knife.

And he did the same.

\---

THE END

For My Readers

I know this story ended sooner than expected. Thank you for sticking with me till the end. Your support means everything. I hope you'll stay for the next one.🖤✌🏻

\---

🎙️ Narrator Note

"If you're interested in narrating this story, I'm open to paid collaborations. DM me for rates."

I saw the same car in my rearview mirror for 20 minutes. A black sedan with a cracked windshield. Same headlights. Same speed. No matter how fast I drove, it stayed behind me.

I turned into my street. It followed. I parked. It stopped behind me, engine still running.

I ran inside and locked the door. My hands were shaking.

My phone buzzed.

"You forgot your wallet."

I looked down. My wallet was still on the passenger seat of my car. I hadn't touched it. I hadn't left the house with it.

I looked out the window.

The car was empty. The door was open.

But someone was standing at my front door.

Holding my wallet.

I didn't open the door. I pressed my eye to the peephole.

A man stood there — pale, still, his head tilted slightly. His eyes weren't looking at the door. They were looking at the peephole. At me.

He smiled.

"You left this in your car," he said. His voice was calm. Too calm.

I backed away. My phone buzzed again.

"Don't open the door. He's not here for the wallet."

I looked at the screen. The message was from my own number.

I looked back at the peephole.

The man was gone.

But the wallet was on the doorstep.

When I opened the door to grab it, I saw something inside that I hadn't noticed before.

A photograph — of me sleeping.

Taken from inside my room.

In the corner of the photo, a reflection in the mirror. The same man. Standing behind me.

And in the photo, I was smiling.

I had never seen that photograph before.

And I had never smiled like that.

I looked up at the street.

The black sedan was still there.

The engine was running.

And in the driver's seat, the same man was staring at me.

He didn't move. He just waited.

I closed the door. Locked it. Checked every window.

When I looked out again, the car was gone.

But the photograph was still in my hand.

And on the back, a message written in ink:

"You'll see me again. You already have."

Obsession Chapter 3 at 9pm 🕘

My grandmother told me about Heart Eyes when I was young. She said he only comes on Valentine's Day. He only kills couples. I didn't believe her. Why would someone only kill couples?

I'm Sophia. My parents died when I was ten. My grandfather passed a year ago. My grandmother raised me. She is my everything. I work a normal office job. I live a normal life.

Then I met Lucas. At a café. He was charming. A CEO. We exchanged numbers. Three months later, we were a happy couple. My grandmother was happy for us.

Valentine's Day was coming. She warned us again.

"Be careful, Sophia. Heart Eyes is real."

I laughed it off.

"Don't worry, Grandma. Nothing will happen to me."

The day arrived. Lucas booked a mansion for us — Ashford Hall. Private chef. Rose petals. A perfect night.

We arrived. We drank. We danced. We fell asleep in each other's arms.

At 2 AM, I woke up. The bed was empty.

I called Lucas's name. No answer. I walked to the bathroom. The door was slightly open. I pushed it.

Lucas was standing there — but his head was tilted at an unnatural angle. Blood dripped down his neck. His head was cut clean from his body. His eyes were still open.

I couldn't scream. I couldn't move.

A voice came from behind me.

"He didn't feel it."

I turned. A man stood there. His eyes were pale — almost white — like the color had been drained from them.

"Heart Eyes," I whispered.

"He was asleep," he said. "He never woke up."

I ran. I hid in the closet. I tried to call my grandmother. No signal.

I heard him walking outside the closet. I held my breath.

He stopped in front of the closet door.

I knew he could hear me breathing.

I burst out and ran down the hallway, my heels slipping on the marble. He followed — slow, steady, like he had all the time in the world.

I turned a corner. Locked. Another door. Locked.

I was trapped.

He stood at the end of the hall, watching me.

"Your grandmother warned you," he said.

"You killed Lucas."

He smiled wider.

"I did what I was told."

I grabbed a vase and threw it. He dodged — but it gave me time. I ran into the kitchen, grabbed a knife, and turned.

He walked in slowly.

I lunged. He wasn't ready. I drove the knife into his chest — once, twice — until he fell.

He looked up at me, still smiling.

"I'm not the real one."

He died.

I searched his pockets. I found a folded note. On the paper:

"The real Heart Eyes is still out there. I was just following orders."

At the bottom:

"I will always be watching you."

\---
Obsession starts from tomorrow 👀

THE END

I found a door in my grandmother's house that no one else remembered.

It wasn't there when I was a kid. But after she passed, and I inherited the place, I noticed a crack in the wall of the study — a faint outline of a doorframe, like someone had plastered it over and hoped no one would notice. Behind the wall, I found it. A room. No windows, no furniture, just a single photograph on the floor.

The photo was black and white. A woman — my grandmother — stood beside a man whose face was burned out. On the back, in faded ink, a date: March 11, 1984. And a warning: "Never speak of him again."

I asked my mother about it. She went pale. She told me my grandmother had a brother who vanished before she was born. He was found dead in a locked room, with his mouth sewn shut, and a single word carved into the wall.

My mother never told me the word.

That night, I couldn't sleep. I went back to the room. The photograph had moved. The man's face was no longer burned out — it was mine.

I looked at the date again.

It was tomorrow.

Obsession Chapter 3 coming at 9 pm today 🖤

Dev was the most trusted man in Vikram Rana's gang. He had been with him for years. Vikram treated him like a son. Dev had killed for him. He had bled for him. He had never questioned him.

Until Vikram asked him to do something different.

Vikram had a girlfriend — a woman named Anaya. He suspected she was cheating on him. He didn't confront her. He didn't trust anyone else. He sent Dev to spy on her.

"Become her friend," Vikram said. "Find out everything. Report to me."

Dev agreed. He started spending time with Anaya. At first, it was just a job. He watched her. He listened. He reported back.

But slowly, something changed.

He saw how Vikram treated her — cold, controlling, possessive. He saw her loneliness. He saw her fear. He saw her smile when he made her laugh.

He started caring about her.

One night, she cried in front of him.

"I'm not cheating on him," she said. "I never was. He just doesn't trust me. He doesn't love me. He just owns me."

Dev held her hand.

"I know," he said. "I've been watching you. I've been reporting to him. But I'm done."

She looked at him. "Why would you do that?"

"Because I'm in love with you."

That night, he made a choice. He turned against Vikram Rana.

He killed Vikram's men. He killed Vikram's allies. He killed anyone who stood between him and Anaya.

But Vikram was always one step ahead.

In the final confrontation, Vikram stood in front of them. He had a gun in his hand.

"You were like a son to me," Vikram said. "And you threw it away — for a woman?"

Dev looked at him. His voice was calm. But his eyes were burning.

"She's not just a woman. She's the only thing that ever felt real. You gave me money, power, respect. But she gave me something you never could — she made me feel like I was someone worth loving. And if that's the only thing I take from this life, then I die knowing I didn't waste it."

He looked at Anaya.

"I don't need your forgiveness. I don't need your acceptance. I just need her to know — she was never just a job."

Vikram smiled.

"Then watch her die."

He shot Anaya.

She fell to the ground. Blood spread beneath her. Her eyes were still open. She was looking at Dev.

He caught her as she fell.

"No… no… Anaya…"

She whispered one last thing:

"I loved you too."

Then she was gone.

Vikram raised the gun again.

"You should have stayed loyal."

He shot Dev.

Dev fell beside her. His hand reached for hers. He couldn't reach it.

His vision blurred. Vikram walked away.

The last thing he saw was her face, her eyes still open, still looking at him.

He whispered:

"I'll find you… wherever you go…"

Then everything went dark.

And in that darkness, one question remained —

If she could speak one last time, would she still say she loved him?

\---

Obsession Chapter 3 coming at 15 August 9 pm

Chapter 2 coming soon

I’m primarily a horror writer, but this time I wanted to step outside my comfort zone and try something different. I’d love to hear what you think of this new direction.

I never felt safe again.

Every sound made me jump. Every shadow felt like a person. At work, I couldn't focus. When my boss touched my shoulder, I flinched so hard I knocked over my coffee.

At night, I couldn't sleep. I lay awake, staring at the door. Sometimes, I thought I heard breathing — but no one was ever there.

One day, a guy from the office approached me. Daniel — quiet, kind. He asked me out for coffee. I said yes.

We met at a small cafe. We talked for hours. For the first time in months, I felt safe.

The next day, Daniel didn't come to work. I texted him. No reply.

When I reached home, I saw a package on my doorstep. On top, a note: "For my love."

I opened it. Inside, a glass jar filled with liquid — and two eyes floating inside. Daniel's eyes.

A note beneath: "He looked at you. Now he can never look at you again."

I ran to the bathroom and locked the door. I vomited into the sink. I didn't call the police. I couldn't.

When I came out, a message was written on the mirror:

"You're mine."

I didn't sleep that night. I just sat in my room, staring at the door.

The next morning, I noticed something missing. My scarf — the one my mother gave me before she died. It wasn't on the hook where I always kept it.

I searched everywhere. Every corner. Every closet. It was gone.

I was exhausted. My throat was dry. I walked to the kitchen to get some water and opened the fridge.

Daniel was inside.

His body was folded neatly — cold, pale, his eyes missing. Like he had been placed there carefully. Like he was meant to be found.

I stumbled back, hitting the counter.

A note was taped to his chest:

"He came too close, my love."

Then I felt a cold breath on the back of my neck.

\---

To be continued...

If you're a narrator or content creator, I'm open to paid collaborations. DM me.

Brian and Markas were roommates. Best friends. They shared everything — food, secrets, late-night conversations.

But Brian had one thing Markas didn't know about — a curiosity for dark things. Slasher movies. Horror stories. Creepy websites.

One night, Brian found a site that looked like a food recipe blog. But the ingredients weren't chicken or mutton. They were human.

"Young people — low fire, less spices."

"Old people — medium fire, more spices."

Brian felt sick. He showed Markas. Markas laughed.

"It's a prank. Relax."

Brian tried to forget it. But Markas started acting strange. At college, girls complained — he was asking about their weight, their health, their blood type.

Brian asked him what was wrong. Markas snapped.

"Mind your own business."

A week later, there was a college party. Brian asked Markas to come.

"I'm not feeling well. I'll stay home."

Brian went alone. He drank too much. When he came back home, drunk and stumbling, he couldn't open the door. He heard a muffled scream from inside.

He called the police.

When they broke in, they found a girl from their college — unconscious, bleeding from the back of her head.

Markas wasn't there. He had gone out. Shopping.

The police found him half an hour later. When he saw them, he tried to run — but he was too slow. They caught him a few blocks away.

He was holding a bag — full of spices, vegetables, and a sharp blade.

When they asked him why, he was so scared he couldn't lie.

"I just wanted to know what human meat tastes like."

Brian moved away after that. New college. New city. New life.

But sometimes, late at night, he still hears that muffled scream.

And he asks himself the same question over and over:

"Who are you, Markas?"

\\---

THE END

Obsession Chapter 2 coming soon 🖤

I first noticed him at the coffee shop near my office. He sat alone at a corner table, reading a book. His face was calm, his posture still, but his eyes weren't on the pages. They were on me.

I told myself it was nothing. People look at strangers all the time. But he didn't look away. He just sat there, watching me as I ordered my coffee, as I sat down, as I checked my phone. When I looked up again, he was gone.

The next day, he was at the same spot. Same table. Same book. Same eyes. This time, I couldn't ignore it. I walked out without finishing my drink.

I started taking a different route to work. He was there — standing at the corner, like he knew I would come. He didn't move. He didn't speak. He just watched.

I changed my routine. He adjusted his. He was always there — not threatening, not aggressive, just present. Always present.

A week later, I found a note tucked under my windshield wiper. No name. No number. Just a single line:

"You look beautiful when you're scared."

My hands trembled as I read it. I looked around. The street was empty. No cars. No people. Just the echo of my own heartbeat.

That night, I locked every door. Checked every window. I told myself I was overreacting.

I was wrong.

I heard a soft knock at my bedroom door.

I froze.

"Who's there?" I whispered.

Silence.

Then a voice — calm, close:

"I've already been inside."

\\---

To be continued...

"If you're interested in narrating it, I'm open to paid collaborations. Let me know your rates."

The Collector had placed Daniel's head on the shelf — right between Emma and Lucas. A new trophy for his collection.

He stepped back and admired his work. Three heads. Three families. Three perfect pieces.

His phone buzzed. A message from a client:

"The usual price?"

He smiled and typed back:

"Double. This one is special."

He wrapped Daniel's head in silk and placed it in a wooden box. He drove to a private warehouse on the outskirts of the city.

Inside, a group of rich men sat around a table. They wore suits. They drank wine. They looked at him like he was an artist.

They were businessmen. Good image. Kind faces. But behind closed doors, they were monsters.

"Show us," one of them said.

He opened the box. The room went silent.

"Beautiful," another whispered.

"I bet 50k," one said.

"100k," another raised.

They placed bets on the heads — like trophies in a sick game. The highest bidder won.

The Collector smiled.

"I have more."

He pulled out his phone and showed them photos — images of Daniel's empty house, the note left behind, the police report that led nowhere.

"He saw me," The Collector said. "And now he's part of my collection."

The men applauded.

He closed the box and walked out.

But that night, Daniel's father received a call. A voice said:

"We know you have the video. Give us the phone, or your family will vanish."

He handed it over.

The Collector finished them.

The next morning, the house was clean. No blood. No bodies. No trace.

The cleaning team had been there overnight — sent by the rich men.

No one ever found out.

The collection continued.

And the shelf was still half empty.

\---

To be continued

\---

🎙️ Narrator Note

"If you're interested in narrating this story, I'm open to paid collaborations. DM me for rates."

A normal family, a happy family. Daniel, Nora, and Peter lived like any other family. Daniel was a curious child. He had a strange habit — whenever he wished something bad, it happened. He didn't understand why. He thought it was his superpower.

Peter and Nora had a love marriage. Peter was a journalist and an alcoholic. Nora was a housewife. Life was good until Peter had a land dispute with his brother. He sold the land for almost nothing. Daniel was only two and a half years old then.

From that day, the family started moving from one rented house to another. They never stayed anywhere long. Then COVID came. For Daniel, it was a good time. But he became fat because every evening he ate noodles.

COVID ended. School started. Daniel was scared of his father and studied hard. But almost every evening, Peter drank and lost control. He would beat Nora. Daniel saw this for years. He started praying for his father's death. Not once. Many times.

Peter's health worsened. Liver damage. Kidney issues. Nora stayed by his side at the hospital. But Peter died.

Daniel was shocked. He remembered something strange — most of the time when he woke up from sleep, he heard about someone's death. It happened again. He was sleeping in the evening. When he woke up, his aunt said, "Your father is dead." He thought it was a joke until his mother came home and cried.

At the funeral, Daniel saw his uncle for the first time since he was two. Slowly, he moved on.

After Peter's death, Daniel got freedom. A personal phone. Permission to go outside. But his mother, Nora, started changing. She made a boyfriend. Daniel found out. She confessed. He was broken — the man was married, had two daughters, and was also a journalist who knew Peter well.

One day, Daniel opened the bathroom door. The door was already open. The boyfriend's wife saw Nora and her husband on a video call. She started shouting, behaving crazily. Nora blamed Daniel for everything because he opened the door.

The boyfriend was their neighbor. The wife's shouting became normal. Then they moved to stay near Nora's uncle. But they didn't stay there. They got another rented house.

Daniel failed one time at his old school. He went to hostel for a month. Then he got diabetes. He failed again at his new school.

Now Nora is fully changed. When she's angry, she beats him and shouts. When she's calm, she's okay. But she still remembers the boyfriend. She believes that sex means love. He ditched her because he had a family. She still pays thousands to astrologers to get him back.

Daniel is fifteen now. He has dreams. He's bad at studies compared to his cousins. He decided to leave his mother when he starts earning. He's just surviving.

He regrets why he cursed his father — the man who managed everything with lakhs of debts, who kept the family together even when he was broken.

Years passed. Daniel was eighteen now. He had survived. He had waited. He had planned.

He stood in the living room, facing his mother. She was sitting on the sofa, staring at him with cold eyes.

"I'm leaving this house," he said.

She didn't react.

"I'm going to become an actor. I'm never coming back."

She still didn't move. Her face was blank.

"Tomorrow morning, I'm leaving."

Then she finally spoke.

"No."

"What?"

"You're not leaving. You're not becoming anything."

He shook his head. "I've decided, Maa. I'm not asking for permission."

She stood up slowly. She walked toward him. Her eyes were empty.

"You think you can just leave? After everything I've done for you?"

"I'm grateful, Maa. But I can't stay here."

"You won't."

She walked to the kitchen and picked up a knife. She turned back to him.

"You're not leaving tomorrow. You're not becoming an actor. You're not going anywhere."

Daniel backed away.

"Maa, what are you doing?"

She smiled.

"I'm making sure you never leave."

She lunged at him.

He tried to block, but she was too fast.

She stabbed him once. Twice. Three times.

He fell to the ground.

She stood over him, breathing heavily.

"You were never going to leave," she whispered. "I made sure of it."

Daniel looked up at her. He couldn't speak. He couldn't move.

She smiled.

"You were right about one thing — you're never coming back."

He died with his eyes open.

She cleaned the floor. She burned his clothes and him too. She told the police he had run away. She told his friends he had left for Mumbai.

No one ever found out the truth.

And every night, she sits in his room, staring at the wall where he used to sleep.

She doesn't feel guilt.

She feels like she won.

\---

THE END

🎙️ Narrator Note

"If you're interested in narrating this story, I'm open to paid collaborations. DM me for rates."

I had 2,417 subscribers when it started.
Not enough to be famous.
Not enough to make money.
But enough people watched my videos that I had started calling myself a YouTuber.
Most nights, I streamed from my bedroom.
Gaming. Reactions. Random conversations.
Nothing serious.
That night, I was live at 11:43 PM.
**LIVE — 37 viewers.**
I was playing a horror game when the first Super Chat appeared.
💬 **₹40 — UNKNOW**N:
**“You’re playing the wrong game.”**
I laughed.
“Okay… creepy username.”
The chat filled with laughing emojis.
I continued playing.
Thirty seconds later—
💬 **₹100 — UNKNOW**N:
**“Look behind you.”**
I stopped.
Everyone in the chat started spamming:
**LOOK BEHIND YOU**
**BRO TURN AROUND**
**DON’T TURN AROUND** 😂
I laughed again.
“You guys are so predictable.”
I slowly turned around.
Nothing.
My bed.
My cupboard.
My window.
Everything normal.
I turned back to the monitor.
“See? Nothing.”
Then another Super Chat appeared.
💬 **₹200 — UNKNOW**N:
**“I know.”**
My smile disappeared.
I stared at the message.
“How did you know I’d turn around?”
Nobody answered.
Then someone typed:
**Maybe he’s watching your camera.**
I checked my webcam.
It was on.
I hadn’t thought about that.
I quickly closed the streaming software.
The camera light went off.
I felt better.
Then my phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
One message.
**“Why did you turn off the camera?”**
My blood went cold.
I looked at my laptop.
The stream was still running.
I hadn’t closed it.
I opened the software again.
**LIVE — 52 viewers.**
“What the fuck?”
The chat was moving faster now.
Someone had posted:
**HE’S STILL WATCHING**
Then another Super Chat appeared.
💬 **₹500 — UNKNOW**N:
**“Don’t worry. I can still see you.”**
I stood up.
I checked the webcam.
It was physically disconnected.
I unplugged my laptop from the internet.
The stream ended.
**LIVE ENDED.**
Silence.
I sat on my bed.
My heart was pounding.
Then I heard something.
A notification.
My phone.
I picked it up.
YouTube.
**Your livestream received a Super Chat.**
I opened it.
There was no livestream.
No internet connection.
Yet somehow, the message was there.
💬 **₹1,000 — UNKNOW**N:
**“You should have stayed live.”**
I threw the phone onto the bed.
Then I heard a sound from my laptop.
A notification.
The screen turned on by itself.
A video was playing.
It was my bedroom.
My exact bedroom.
My bed.
My cupboard.
My window.
But the camera angle was wrong.
It was filmed from the corner of the ceiling.
I stared at the screen.
Then I saw myself.
Sitting on the bed.
Watching the video.
I looked behind me.
Nothing.
I looked back at the screen.
The version of me in the video suddenly looked directly into the camera.
Then he smiled.
A message appeared underneath the video.
**“You finally noticed me.”**
I didn’t sleep that night.
The next morning, I checked my YouTube account.
My subscriber count had changed.
**2,417 → 2,418**
One new subscriber.
The username was:
**UNKNOWN**
I clicked the profile.
There was only one video.
Uploaded **three years ago.**
I clicked it.
The video was only eight seconds long.
A bedroom.
My bedroom.
But it wasn’t my bedroom three years ago.
It was exactly how it looked **now.**
At the end of the video, a voice whispered:
**“Next time, don’t turn around.”**
The video ended.
And then I noticed something.
The upload date had changed.
It now said:
**Uploaded 2 minutes ago.**
I stared at the screen.
My phone vibrated.
Another Super Chat.
💬 **₹10,000 — UNKNOW**N:
**“Tonight. 11:43 PM.”**
I looked at the clock.
**11:42 PM.**
I stopped breathing.
Because I suddenly understood.
The Super Chats weren’t predicting what would happen.
They were telling me what had **already happened.**
And someone—or something—was waiting for me to remember.
**11:43 PM.**
Exactly one minute away.
**End of Chapter 1.**

I stared at the door.
My mother was still standing outside.
“Lucas?”
I finally opened it.
She looked at me.
Her eyes were red.
Like she had been crying.
“What happened?” I asked.
She stepped inside and closed the door behind her.
For a few seconds, she just stood there.
Then she said:
“Your father didn’t die the way I told you.”
My stomach dropped.
I already knew.
But hearing it from her was different.
“What do you mean?”
She sat on the edge of my bed.
“Your father was working on a story.”
“What story?”
She looked at me.
“A story about corruption. Money. People who were supposed to be untouchable.”
I remembered Jason’s words.
Your father wasn’t investigating a story.
He was investigating people.
“Who were they?”
“I don’t know all of them.”
“You’re lying.”
She looked down.
“I knew your father was afraid.”
“Afraid of who?”
She didn’t answer.
I pulled out my phone.
I showed her the message.
Your father didn’t die alone.
Her face went completely pale.
Then I showed her the flash drive.
The moment she saw it, she stood up.
“Where did you get that?”
“Jason.”
She stepped backward.
“Jason Walker?”
I nodded.
She whispered:
“No…”
“What?”
She looked at me like she had just realized something terrible.
“Jason’s father.”
I froze.
“What about him?”
My mother sat down again.
“He worked with your father.”
Everything suddenly became connected.
Jason.
His father.
My father.
The secret.
The messages.
“Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
“Because I wanted you safe.”
“You kept me in the dark!”
“I lost your father, Lucas!”
Her voice broke.
“I wasn’t going to lose you too.”
Silence.
Then she said something that made my blood run cold.
“Your father didn’t die in the hospital.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
“He was alive when they found him.”
“Then how did he die?”
She looked directly into my eyes.
“Someone made sure he wouldn’t leave that hospital.”
I couldn’t speak.
Then my phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
I looked down.
One message.
“Your mother is telling you the truth.”
I looked at Mom.
She hadn’t seen the message.
Another arrived.
“But she hasn’t told you everything.”
I swallowed.
Then the third message appeared.
“Ask her about the third name.”
I slowly opened my notebook.
Jason.
Taylor.
Mason.
Three names.
I looked at my mother.
“Mom…”
She stared at me.
“Who is the third name?”
Her expression changed.
She knew exactly what I meant.
Then she whispered:
“Mason Carter.”
I felt a chill run through me.
“What does Mason have to do with my father?”
My mother didn’t answer.
Instead, she looked toward the window.
And whispered:
“His father was the last person to see yours alive.”
I couldn’t move.
Then suddenly—
CRASH.
Something hit the window.
My mother screamed.
I ran toward it.
On the ground outside was a small black envelope.
I opened the window.
Nobody was there.
I picked up the envelope.
Inside was a photograph.
My father.
Jason’s father.
And a third man.
I recognized him immediately.
I had seen him before.
At school.
I turned the photograph over.
Three words were written on the back:
“HE’S STILL HERE.”
I looked toward the road.
A car was parked across from our house.
Its headlights switched on.
Then it slowly drove away.
I looked at my mother.
She was crying.
And for the first time…
I realized something terrifying.
The person who destroyed my father’s life might still be watching mine.
End of Chapter 6.

I stared at the message for almost a minute.
“Your father didn’t die alone.”
My hands were still shaking.
Then another message appeared.
“And Jason knows why.”
I typed:
Who are you?
Three dots appeared.
Then disappeared.
I waited.
Nothing.
I tried again.
What happened to my father?
This time, the reply came immediately.
“Ask Jason about September 1.”
My heart dropped.
September 1.
The date my father died.
I locked my phone and put it in my pocket.
Then I looked at the piece of paper inside my locker.
ASK YOUR MOTHER.
I already knew she wouldn’t tell me.
So there was only one person left.
Jason.

I found him behind the school after lunch.
He was alone.
No Taylor.
No Mason.
Just Jason.
He saw me approaching and immediately looked away.
“Jason.”
He kept walking.
“Stop.”
He stopped.
For a few seconds, neither of us said anything.
Then I asked:
“What happened on September 1?”
Jason froze.
His shoulders dropped.
He slowly turned around.
“Who told you that?”
“So you know.”
“I don’t know anything.”
“You’re lying.”
He looked around.
Then he lowered his voice.
“Lucas… you need to leave this alone.”
I stepped closer.
“My father died on September 1.”
Jason swallowed.
“I know.”
I stared at him.
“How?”
He didn’t answer.
I asked again.
“How do you know?”
Jason looked terrified.
Then he whispered:
“Because I was there.”
My entire body went cold.
“What?”
He took a step backward.
“I didn’t hurt him.”
“Then what happened?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Why?”
“Because they’ll come after me too.”
“Who?”
Jason looked directly at me.
Then he said something that I never expected.
“Your father wasn’t investigating a story.”
I frowned.
“What are you talking about?”
“He was investigating people.”
“What people?”
Jason looked toward the school building.
Then back at me.
“People who don’t want their names known.”
I felt my stomach tighten.
“Jason… what does this have to do with you?”
He didn’t answer.
Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small black flash drive.
He held it out.
“This belonged to your father.”
I stared at it.
“Where did you get that?”
“I didn’t.”
He placed it in my hand.
“Someone gave it to me.”
“Who?”
Jason’s face went pale.
“I don’t know.”
Then he walked away.
I stood there holding the flash drive.
For the first time, the three names in my notebook didn’t feel like three names anymore.
They felt connected.
Jason.
My father.
The unknown person texting me.
I returned home before my mother.
I went straight to my room.
I pulled out my laptop.
Then I plugged in the flash drive.
One folder appeared.
There was only one file.
SEPTEMBER_01
I clicked it.
A video opened.
The screen was dark.
Then I heard my father’s voice.
My heart stopped.
His voice was weak.
Almost like he was whispering.
“If you’re watching this… something went wrong.”
I couldn’t breathe.
The video continued.
“Lucas doesn’t know the truth.”
I paused the video.
My eyes filled with tears.
Then I pressed play again.
My father’s voice returned.
“But one day, he will.”
There was a long silence.
Then he said:
“And when he does… tell him not to trust Jason Walker.”
The video suddenly ended.
I stared at the screen.
Jason had just given me the evidence.
But my father had warned me not to trust him.
I opened my notebook.
I looked at the three names.
Jason Walker.
Taylor Brooks.
Mason Carter.
For months, I had believed these were the names of the people who ruined my life.
But now…
I wasn’t sure anymore.
I slowly turned the page.
And underneath the three names, I wrote a fourth.
Lucas Crow.
Then I wrote:
“Maybe I’m not the victim.”
I heard the front door open downstairs.
My mother was home.
I quickly closed the laptop.
Then my phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
One final message appeared:
“Now you know where to start.”
I stared at it.
Then another message arrived.
“But you still don’t know who killed your father.”
I looked toward my bedroom door.
Someone was standing outside.
A shadow appeared underneath it.
Then my mother’s voice came from the hallway.
“Lucas?”
I didn’t answer.
She knocked once.
Then whispered:
“We need to talk about your father.”
End of Chapter 5.

The next morning, I woke up before my alarm.
I didn’t know why.
For the first time in months, I didn’t feel tired.
I felt… calm.
I looked at the piece of paper beside my bed.
Three names.
Jason Walker.
Taylor Brooks.
Mason Carter.
I folded it and put it inside my pocket.
Then I went to school.
Jason was waiting near my locker.
He smiled when he saw me.
“Morning, loser.”
Normally, I would’ve looked down.
That day, I didn’t.
I looked directly at him.
His smile disappeared for half a second.
Then he laughed.
“What?”
I said nothing.
He grabbed my bag and threw it across the hallway.
Everyone laughed.
I walked over, picked it up, and quietly put it back on my shoulder.
Jason stepped closer.
“You deaf?”
I looked at him again.
“No.”
Then I walked away.
For some reason, that made him angrier than anything I had ever said.
During lunch, Taylor took my food.
“Thanks, Lucas.”
She opened it and started eating.
Mason sat beside her.
“Maybe he doesn’t need lunch. Look at him.”
They laughed.
I didn’t.
I just watched them.
I noticed something I’d never noticed before.
Jason always walked first.
Taylor always followed him.
Mason laughed whenever Jason laughed.
They weren’t three people.
They were one person with three faces.
And suddenly…
I understood something.
If I wanted the bullying to stop, I couldn’t fight all three.
I had to break the first one.
After school, I followed Jason.
Not too close.
Just enough to know where he went.
He walked past the football field.
Past the old science building.
Then he stopped.
I hid behind a wall.
Jason took out his phone.
Someone called him.
I couldn’t hear everything.
But I heard one sentence.
“You promised you wouldn’t tell anyone.”
Jason looked around.
Then he walked away quickly.
I waited.
And waited.
Something had changed.
For the first time, I wasn’t thinking about what Jason could do to me.
I was wondering…
What was Jason afraid of?
That night, I opened my notebook.
I wrote under his name:
Jason Walker.
Then underneath it, I wrote one sentence.
“Everyone has a weakness.”
I stared at it.
Then I crossed out the word weakness.
I replaced it with another word.
“Secret.”
I closed the notebook.
But before going to sleep, I heard my mother’s voice from downstairs.
She was talking to someone.
Her voice sounded frightened.
I quietly walked toward the stairs.
Then I heard a man’s voice.
A voice I hadn’t heard since my father died.
I froze.
The man said:
“Lucas doesn’t know what really happened to his father.”
My heart stopped.
I stepped backward.
The floor creaked.
The talking suddenly stopped.
And then…
Someone started walking toward the stairs.
End of Chapter 3.