They Said This House Was Abandoned Because the Owner Moved Away—Until the Young Couple Smashed the Living Room Wall and Found a Diary That Had Already Written Their Names
The two-story house at the edge of the valley was listed for less than half its market value.
The previous owner had died with no heirs. Neighbors said the old man lived a quiet life and passed away peacefully of old age.
A young couple happily bought it, excited to start renovating their dream home.
On a dim, rainy afternoon, the husband swung a sledgehammer to knock down a drywall partition in the living room for an open layout.
Thump.
A hollow space appeared between the two wall layers.
Inside sat a rusted metal box, wedged neatly on a wooden beam.
Curious, the wife picked it up and opened the lid.
Inside was nothing but a leather-bound journal with frayed edges.
The first few pages were ordinary daily entries from the old owner ten years ago. Everything seemed completely normal.
Until she flipped to the very last page.
The ink was dark and jagged, written in what appeared to be pure panic.
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“August 14: I can’t keep it locked away anymore.”
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“It has chosen the next ones.”
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“Around 4 PM, a couple named Nam and Ha will move in.”
The wife froze. Her heart hammered against her chest.
Nam and Ha.
Those were their exact names.
Her hands trembled as she checked her wristwatch.
Exactly 4:15 PM.
The next line underneath was underlined three times in red ink:
“If you two are reading this, do not footstep heavily on the floor. The thing beneath the ground is extremely sensitive to footfalls.”
At that exact moment, the sledgehammer slipped from her husband’s sweaty palm, free-falling onto the wooden floor…
THUMP!
PART 2 IN THE FIRST COMMENT…
The harsh metallic clatter echoed violently through the empty living room.
Both husband and wife froze in place, their eyes locked on the sledgehammer resting on the floorboards.
A agonizing silence stretched for a few agonizing seconds.
Then, beneath the rotting wooden floor, a sound began.
Tap… Tap… Tap…
As if someone was lightly knocking with fingertips from under the earth.
The tapping moved. It crawled along the wooden joists beneath the floor, heading straight toward where Nam was standing.
Ha wildly raised the journal, whispering in panic: “Nam! Don’t move! Stay completely still!”
She frantically flipped to the next page of the diary. The paper was stained with dried, dark brown smudges.
“It has no eyes. It only follows vibrations.”
“If you accidentally make a sound, freeze completely. Do not even breathe heavily.”
“The cellar below has no stairs. But… the trapdoor is directly beneath…”
The sentence was left unfinished, followed by a long, jagged ink streak trailing off the bottom of the page.
Right then, the floorboards under Nam’s feet began to vibrate softly.
A tiny crack split between two wooden planks. From the gap, a foul stench of swamp mud and decaying meat spewed upward.
Click.
A floorboard was pushed up a few centimeters.
From the narrow darkness below, a pale, emaciated gray hand with blackened fingernails slowly crept out… The hand spread open, groping blindly across the floor, mere inches from the tip of Nam’s shoe.
Nam bit his lip so hard it bled, fighting with everything he had not to scream. Cold sweat poured down his forehead.
Suddenly, the phone in Ha’s pocket vibrated with a message notification.
The faint chime shattered the dead silence.
The gray hand beneath the floor instantly whipped around, pointing straight in Ha’s direction.
FOLLOW FOR THE FINAL PART TOMORROW…
