It was a newly posted thread, yet in less than an hour, it had racked up over ten thousand likes and shot to the top of the forum’s trending list.

  The title alone piqued the interest of everyone in the dorm.

  Even John, who’d been about to turn in for the night, perked up. He climbed off his bed and wandered over to James’s side.

  Unlike the rest of the guys, who were just in it for the laughs, John knew better than most—this story might not be made up at all.

  In the blink of an eye, all eight dormmates squeezed onto James’s bed, craning their necks to read.

  “Fellow forum members, let me start by saying I’m not a clickbait writer. What I’m about to tell you is something I’m living through—and it’s still haunting me...”

  “OP, spill more! This is already giving me chills!”

  “Hurry up! I live for spooky stories like this!”

  “OP, I’m the 89th-generation Toilet Demon Exorcist. Hit me up anytime you need help!”

  “Did a female ghost latch onto you? Jealous, not gonna lie.”

  The comments section blew up with replies, and it was obvious everyone was just here for the fun of it.

  But the original poster ignored them all, slowly launching into his tale.

  “What’s haunting me isn’t some ghost you’d expect. It’s a pair... of embroidered shoes.”

  Beneath his reply, he attached a photo.

  The image was blurry—not because of a low-resolution camera, but because the person who took it seemed to be trembling violently.

  Even so, the content was unmistakable: on an empty midnight street, a pair of embroidered shoes sat neatly under the glow of a streetlamp.

  No ghosts or ghouls loomed in sight, yet an aura of unspeakable dread hung thick in the air.

  “Holy crap, OP—you’re not messing around?”

  “Why does this get creepier the longer I stare at it?”

  “Nope, I’m out. Toilet Demon Exorcist signing off. Don’t hit me up even if you need help later...”

  The replies flooded in; clearly, that single photo had already scared quite a few people half to death.

  Undeterred, the OP kept typing at a steady pace:

  “That’s the first time I laid eyes on those shoes—just the night before last, actually.”

  “It was the weekend. I’d been on a date with my girlfriend until ten o’clock. Worried about her walking home alone at night, I walked her to her door first.”

  “I just graduated not long ago, so I don’t make much money. To save on bus fare, I opted to take the public bus back to my neighborhood.”

  “I got off the bus around eleven and started heading toward my apartment complex—it’s only a ten-minute walk.”

  “Normally, that stretch of road is just like any other, uneventful and boring. But the second I rounded a corner, I spotted those embroidered shoes sitting under a streetlamp, plain as day.”

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  “The street was completely empty, so I’ll admit I was a little scared. Let’s be real—anyone would be creeped out stumbling on something like that in the dead of night. I practically sprinted back to my apartment complex, and when nothing weird happened, I let out a sigh of relief, figuring I’d just let my imagination run wild.”

  “But then, right as I was about to step into the elevator, a chill shot up my spine. I almost wet my pants on the spot.”

  “Those same red embroidered shoes were sitting inside the elevator—facing the door, as if they were staring right back at me.”

  “It felt like a bolt of lightning had zapped through my body. My scalp went numb, and I immediately bailed on the elevator, booking it up the stairs instead. That’s how I finally made it home safe.”

  By this point, William and the others exchanged glances, a flicker of genuine fear crossing their faces.

  “Guys... should we keep reading?”

  William looked around the group, already half-tempted to crawl back under his covers.

  “Scaredy-cats,” James scoffed. He was the bravest of the bunch, a straight-A student and a die-hard believer in science.

  His words gave the others a jolt of courage, and they leaned in to read more.

  “That night, I had a nightmare. All I saw in my dream was those embroidered shoes.”

  “Luckily, nothing strange happened the rest of the night. I told myself it was just a weird coincidence, nothing more.”

  “I thought that would be the end of it. But tonight—tonight, I opened my front door, and there they were again, sitting right on the welcome mat inside my apartment!”

  “I completely lost my cool. I called the police station right away!”

  “Since someone had apparently gotten into my apartment, the officers thought it was a break-in. They showed up at my place in no time.”

  “But after searching the entire apartment, they found no signs of forced entry or anything suspicious. They guessed it must’ve been a professional burglar. Finally, at my request, they took the embroidered shoes away with them as evidence.”

  “I was so freaked out by then that even with the shoes gone, I didn’t dare stay in my rental apartment another minute.”

  “Just to be safe, I checked into a nearby hotel for the night. I’ll figure out what to do tomorrow.”

  That was the last update from the OP, posted nearly five hours ago.

  And in the comments section...

  “That’s it? I was just getting into the story!”

  “If this is real, OP, do yourself a favor and don’t go back home. This is straight-up horror movie material!”

  “Wait a second—are you from Blackwater Town? I swear I’ve stayed at that hotel before!”

  James refreshed the page, but no new updates popped up. It seemed the story had come to an abrupt halt.

  “Told you it was just some attention-seeking nonsense,” James shook his head, passing his phone to Tom beside him.

  “John—what do you think?”

  William turned to John, the only “expert” on the supernatural in their dorm.

  “If he’s telling the truth...” John’s expression was calm as he spoke, “then he’s really got a ghost on his hands.”

  This kind of supernatural phenomenon couldn’t be explained by any logical, human means.

  Unless it was some elaborate prank pulled off by someone who was also a master lockpicker—but that seemed highly unlikely.

  “Wait, you actually believe this stuff, John?” James blinked in surprise. “Ghosts, demons, all that hocus-pocus—it’s all made up to scare kids.”

  John shrugged, choosing not to argue. After all, he never would’ve believed in this sort of thing either... if he hadn’t experienced it firsthand.

  “He updated! He updated! Quick, look!”

  Just then, Tom—who’d taken the phone—suddenly jolted upright, excitement written all over his face. He quickly held the phone out for everyone to see.

  Sure enough, a new comment had appeared at the bottom of the thread, posted just seconds ago:

  “It’s back! It’s still haunting me!!! I’m gonna lose my mind!!!”

  “I just got up to use the bathroom a minute ago. As soon as I slipped my feet into my shoes, I knew something was wrong—they felt totally off. I flipped on the light right away... and there they were. Those embroidered shoes. I was wearing them!”

  “I called the police again. They said they’ll be here soon. They’ll be here soon.”

  That was it. No more updates followed.

  William and the others froze, their faces draining of color. They exchanged terrified looks, suddenly feeling like the temperature in the dorm had dropped several degrees.

  “Holy shit... could this actually be real?”

  Someone swallowed hard, a creeping doubt gnawing at him—this story didn’t sound like something anyone could make up.

  “Give me a break. It’s obviously fake,” James rolled his eyes. “What century are we living in? How can you guys—educated people—fall for this garbage?”

  “James... are you actually not scared at all?”

  “Scared? Of what?” James scoffed, turning up his nose. “Besides—you know what they say. A clear conscience fears no accusation.”

  “Oh, and John? It’s freezing in here tonight. Your blanket looks way too thin. Why don’t you crash with me tonight? We can share the covers.”

  With that, he looped an arm through John’s, clinging to him like a lifeline.