House Of Leaves Novels & Stories

This house was located in the middle of the woods, the tall trees with rough barks and green leaves furnished a beautiful shade close to the house. “Please, a man is after me. I need your help.” Hayley stammered, she kept knocking as she fell to her knees still close to the front door. She smirked when she heard footsteps approaching, the door slid open and rays of the sun struck the front room of the house. Hayley looked inside, she saw the fireplace then her gaze caught the beautiful flower vase that was standing on the table in the living room. It would suit her taste.

With nowhere else to go I walk over to the door and open it. Inside I can see Brittany screaming laying on the floor with the smiling figure standing over her, looking directly into my eyes. The door slams shut as it moves away creating a gap between me and the door. I run to the door as I struggle to open it. I finally get it open, as I enter the door closes behind me as I stand in a dark giant house with nothing but a door all around. I look around not knowing what could happen next. I can feel the fear creeping up my spine.

Hand on the knob. The house burned behind her, slowly, elegantly. The kind of fire that didn’t destroy, only reminded you what had already been lost. She didn’t look back. Didn’t breathe. Didn’t cry. She turned the handle. The door creaked open. And behind it, There was no sky. No ground, Just a single chair. Facing away from her. Someone sat in it. Reading, A book made of bone. Their voice hummed. And the page they read out loud was Chapter 101.

“Let’s see how deep this goes.” And just like that— He turned the page. _____ Episode 3 – The House Robber The house was a silhouette of wealth against the moonless sky, a modern, angular structure of glass and steel perched on the cliffs overlooking the restless Pacific. For Leo, it was a target. A clean, high-value score with minimal security. The owners, according to his meticulous research, were in Zurich for a month-long financial summit. The house was empty. It was perfect.

Samantha POV The safe house didn’t smell like Paris. It smelled like ancient secrets—old paper, cold stone, and the ozone-heavy scent of high-end filtration systems. Lucien moved through the dim foyer of the Haussmann-style apartment with the silence of a shadow. He didn't turn on the lights. He didn't need to. His silver eyes caught the stray moonlight filtering through the heavy velvet curtains, glowing with a soft, predatory luminescence that made the air feel thin.

"What's going on?" The door was suddenly slammed open as Andrew stormed in. His violent presence filled the room, causing the air to freeze. The director's legs gave way, and he shakily handed over a thin piece of paper. His voice trembled as he said, "M-Mr. Rasmussen, Mrs. Rasmussen left this behind…" The words "Divorce Agreement" caught Andrew's eye. His gaze instantly darkened, and his breath became labored. When his eyes dropped to the neatly written signature at the bottom, the storm brewing in his eyes looked like it could swallow everything in its path.

(Isabella’s POV) The safe house was a tomb, filled with the ghosts of a life that wasn't mine. Dust sheets covered the heavy, ornate furniture, and the air was thick with the stale, stagnant scent of time. The brutal, adrenaline fueled escape from Bianchi’s gala felt a world away, but the true horror of the night was just beginning to settle in my bones, a cold, creeping dread that no locked door could keep out.

The container felt like it was shrinking, the air growing heavy with the smell of blood, oil, and the stuffy-nose congestion of a child who was too tired to cry. We were three wreckage-pieces hidden in a neon grave. Suddenly, a sound echoed from outside—not the heavy boots of a Stalker, but the soft, rhythmic scratching of fingers against the exterior of the container. Scritch. Scritch. Leo froze, his gold-flecked eyes fixed on the sea-foam green steel. "Mommy... the shadows... they're touching the house." I reached for my silver dagger, my heart thudding a messy, syncopated rhythm. I moved to the gap in the door, peering out with my one good eye.

CHAPTER 1: THE INTRUDER’S TOY (TW: NON-CONSENSUAL SEX AND EXTREMES. DO NOT READ. AND DO NOT REPLICATE!) The house is a tomb at 2:17 AM, the kind of silence that presses against your eardrums when you’re the only one breathing in it.

Samson moved forward and wrapped his hands around the door handle and slowly pulled open the unlocked door. The door begrudgingly creaked open. A musty, dank order creep into their noses. The house was dead silent except for the intermittent creaks and moans. Black and brown mold dotted the ceiling in clusters, evident of rain seeping through the roof. They quietly entered the dark living room. Wallpaper lay curled on the floor. Picture frames hanged off-centered. Sharp shadows roamed around the room. A misplaced grand bookcase stood by the corner of the room, undisturbed for a long time.