Can You Face the Shadow at 3 AM?

 

They say 3 AM is the Devil’s Hour—when the veil between the living and the dead is at its thinnest. Most people sleep through it. But those who are awake… sometimes see things they shouldn’t.

Aman, a software engineer in Delhi, often stayed up late working in his apartment. One night, at exactly 3:00 AM, he felt an icy chill in the room. The fan stopped. His laptop screen flickered. Then—he saw it.

A tall, black shadow standing just outside his balcony window. No face. No features. Just a shifting silhouette.

Thinking it was a trick of the light, he blinked. But it was still there—closer now. Inside.

Frozen, Aman tried to scream, but no voice came. The shadow crept closer and whispered,
“You looked at me… now I will look into you.”

From that night onward, Aman changed. He stopped going out. He taped all his mirrors. He refused to sleep during the night.

When his friend visited, they found the apartment freezing cold—even in summer—and scribbles on the wall written in Aman’s handwriting:
“Don’t look at the shadow.
It never forgets.
It waits at 3:00 AM.”

Aman vanished a week later. Only his cracked watch remained—stopped forever at 3:00 AM.

So tell me…
If the shadow comes for you tonight,
Will you face it?
Or pray your eyes stay shut?

The Haunted School Guard’s Tale: Uncover the Secret

 

Everyone in the small town of Nalpur knew about the old St. Theresa School, closed for over 15 years after a tragic fire killed several students. No one went near it—except Raghunath, the night guard who had worked there for decades, even after its closure.

When asked why he stayed, he’d simply say,
“Some children never left. They need watching.”

Locals thought he was mad… until one reporter decided to spend a night with him to uncover the truth.

At first, the school was silent—dusty classrooms, broken benches, faded blackboards. But as the clock struck midnight, everything changed.

Laughter echoed through the corridors. Footsteps ran across the halls. Classroom lights flickered on and off—though there was no electricity.

The reporter watched in terror as ghostly figures of children appeared—some crying, some playing, some simply staring through cracked windows.

Raghunath calmly walked among them, whispering lullabies, calling them by name.
“They’re lost,” he said, “and I promised I wouldn’t leave them alone.”

Suddenly, one spirit—a girl in a burnt uniform—approached the reporter and said,
“He saved us. He stays because we asked him to.”

By morning, the reporter fled, never speaking publicly of what he saw. But he left behind one note:

“The guard isn’t protecting the school…
He’s protecting us from what’s trapped inside.”

Raghunath still guards the ruins. Still silent. Still loyal.

And if you pass by late at night, you might see him sitting at the gate, whispering to shadows… keeping a promise only he understands.