Yellow Wallpaper Story Novels & Stories

It makes her feel hidden, like someone being kept in a ventriloquist’s stage until the right performance is needed. Today, she decided to walk. Movement is an act of defiance against the heaviness of their house. The hallway feels longer than it should; the wallpaper pattern, a small repeating ivy, is the only thing that keeps her eyes from sliding into remembered images. She leaves the bedroom and walks down the stairs, the sound of her feet dull against an old carpet. The sitting room is almost painfully ordinary: a sofa, a stack of magazines, an expensive sculpture that used to be a conversation piece. It’s Wade who makes the scene dangerous.

She turned slowly, eyes drawn to the parlor wall. Tristan was already pulling Cara back from it. “It’s shifting,” he warned. The wallpaper was peeling—not from age, but from pressure. Beneath it, the shape of something moved. Not insect or animal. Something worse. Veins. Black, pulsing, spider-webbing across the interior structure like rot spreading from the heart. They crawled behind the surface, coiling along beams, weaving through plaster. The house was not just responding—it was becoming. “Run,” Yvette whispered. “Now.”

Inside, time had stopped. ​"I have been stuck in this house for two weeks, Helen. Fourteen days. Three hundred and thirty-six hours. I have memorized the pattern of the wallpaper in the hallway. I have reorganized my closet three times—by color, then by season, then by fabric. I have even watched an entire season of a baking show, and you know I don't bake. I hate flour, Helen. It gets everywhere." ​Helen laughed from the other side of the video call. She was sitting in my office—my office—at the company headquarters, sipping an iced latte that looked painfully refreshing. The background noise of phones ringing and printers humming made my heart ache with jealousy.

GIANNA The townhouse is exactly as I left it. Which is to say it’s still falling apart. The wallpaper in the hallway is peeling at the seams where the leak from the upstairs bathroom has been creeping down the walls for years. Why did I ever reject the idea of reconstructing this house? “It’s not THAT bad,” I had said when mom brought up the idea of making the house look better. In my wildest imagination I’d never thought we’d lose our properties to a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

She was not going to turn back now. The wallpaper had been beautiful once—cream and gold, the same pattern she had seen peeling in the corridor outside. Here, it was mostly intact, though dark streaks of smoke damage climbed the walls near the ceiling like frozen shadows. The chandelier above the bed was missing half its crystals, and the ones that remained were blackened with soot. The fire had reached this room. It had not destroyed it, but it had touched it.

She had a slight baby bump now, looking radiant and full of joy at the prospect of motherhood. I carried all the baby supplies we had bought and stayed close to her side, making sure she didn't get bumped by any passersby. Just as we stepped out of the shopping mall, a filthy, reeking homeless woman suddenly lunged out, blocking our way. It turned out to be Zoe. She was emaciated, her eyes bloodshot and manic. She turned pale the moment she spotted Maisie's baby bump. She stared intensely at her stomach and asked in a trembling tone, "Is she pregnant, Waylon?"

The big clock ticked five times. It was the signal that work was over for the day. I've been feeling excited since the time I woke up knowing and hoping that something was about to happen to my forlorn lovelife. I can't count anymore how many time I have glanced at my wrist watch hoping that second hand would go a little faster. After the day's hustle and bustle, here I am at the ladies' room touching up my makeup a bit. Not that I needed much. Just refreshing my lipstick and powder and there I was ready to go and meet my ...destiny?

” Her smile faded instantly when her eyes flashed on the wall, her legs stopping at a spot. ''You changed… the wallpaper?” Her throat clogged but she managed to voice the words, her hands gripping her bag tightly. ''Oh, yeah,” Tylor glanced at the new wallpaper on the wall. Sophia was lying down with a translucent chiffon scarf over her body, it was a dark theme but Tristin couldn't deny that it was beautiful. “Sophia made a fuss about it; she said she wanted her pictures on my wall, so I just let her have her way. Hope you don't mind?”

His grey hairs can be seen moving against the black ones. The cabin is dusty and forces Cody to sneeze. I take a wash cloth from my grandma's kitchen and dust the railings going up the stairs. We head toward the attic and the cardboard boxes are still stacked up in rows lined up against the wall. The wall is still covered in ripped up yellow wallpaper. The red cardboard box is still there, and as we approach it I notice the lid is still closed from the last time my grandma shut it.

"It might seem a little creepy." Claude looked around the room and couldn't help but agree. It looked like Halloween had thrown a party in there. There were black curtains covering the windows, cobwebs in the corners, and a skull sitting on a shelf. But despite all of that, there was something oddly charming about it. "It's lovely," Claude said, smiling. Nuella grinned and then walked over to her bed. She pushed it away from the wall, revealing a large section of black wallpaper covered in skulls. "I thought about what you said about witches," Nuella said as she began to rip the wallpaper off the wall. "And I realized that I had something that might interest you."