Random Horror Stories - 500

The thing moved in the night.

It wasn't a shape anyone could see or describe, but it was there, crawling through the darkness of homes, slipping past the unaware, always with purpose. It didn't need to make noise. It didn't need to be seen. It didn't care if you knew. It only cared about one thing: the women.

That's all it took. One pregnant woman, and then another, until no one knew who it would strike next. In cities and small towns, in houses and apartments, in places no one could ever predict. All across the world, it moved. Quiet, fast, inevitable.

Everyone knew the stories, the rumors, the whispers that traveled faster than any kind of official announcement. Women went missing, their swollen bellies, empty. Sometimes, their bodies found days later, their eyes wide and vacant, no trace of their babies. It was a sickness, some said. Others blamed something deeper, something older. But no one truly understood.

Not even Alison.

She had heard the rumors, of course. Everyone had. It felt like something far removed from reality, like the kind of tragedy that always happened somewhere else. But then it happened to her sister.

Just days before, Megan had gone to bed, just another night of worrying about her baby and the hell that came with it. And then she was gone. Just like that. No signs of a struggle. Nothing left behind. Her phone, the bed, all untouched. It wasn't even the first case. The authorities tried to investigate, but nothing turned up. No one knew anything. Not even the pregnant women who had been taken before her could say anything.

Alison didn't know what to do. She wanted to scream, to go to the police, to run away and hide. But the fear had set in so deep, it felt like it had rooted itself inside her chest. When she tried to talk about it, no one seemed to listen.

People were used to it by now, used to the disappearances, used to the helplessness. It had become something like a normal part of life. The thing was out there, waiting, but who could stop it?

Alison tried not to think about it, but when the sun set and the darkness crept in, it was hard to ignore. Every night, the fear gnawed at her. She stayed up late, staring at the walls of her apartment, hoping for the quiet comfort of sleep to take over. But it never did.

One night, after hearing a soft knock on her door, she almost wished she had let the thing take her too.

It had been hours since the knock, and she still hadn't moved from the couch. The lights were on, the curtains pulled tight. Nothing could get in. Nothing could get her.

Except maybe the thing that moved in the night.

She didn't know what it wanted, what drove it, why it came to her, why it came to Megan, or any of the others. It didn't make sense. But then again, nothing did. Nothing about this world had ever made sense to Alison.

That night, the knock came again. Softer this time.

A chill ran down her spine.

Someone stood outside her door.

She rose slowly, her bare feet brushing against the cold floor. The weight of it was everywhere. The door seemed miles away, as though she had to walk through endless dark to get there. She reached for the handle, hesitated, then turned it.

No one stood there.

Just the open hallway. The empty hallway.

But it wasn't empty for long.

She heard the footsteps behind her before she turned. Soft, deliberate, coming closer. Every instinct in her told her to run, but her body didn't move. She couldn't move.

There was a shadow. Not a real shadow. Nothing visible, but it was there. It moved, stretching out like a long dark thread weaving into the edges of her vision. She heard the breath, the ragged, wet breaths, like something trying to fill its lungs.

She took one step backward, then another, but her feet didn't quite carry her where she wanted. They seemed glued to the floor, unwilling to budge, as though some force was holding her in place.

A figure stepped from the corner of the room.

It wasn't human.

Alison's mind tried to make sense of it, tried to bring it into something recognizable, but it didn't make sense. No shape, no defined edges. Just the crawling, slow rise of something monstrous, its body twisted like a thousand wretched things.

The thing didn't look at her. It didn't need to. It moved toward her, dragging its mass along the floor like it had no legs. The cold filled the room, the air so thick it felt suffocating. Alison opened her mouth, but no sound came out. The thing loomed closer, and then she realized it wasn't coming for her at all.

It wasn't.

It was going for the baby.

The baby inside her.

She wanted to scream. She wanted to fight. But the force of it was too much, the fear pinning her to the floor, the silence of the moment suffocating her, and the thing—it wasn't even a thing anymore. It was just the empty, terrible force of whatever had decided it needed this child.

She couldn't move. Her body wouldn't let her. The cold, the crawling sensation, the numbness of terror—it was too much.

Alison felt the thing pull closer, heard the unmistakable sound of a deep inhale. The room grew darker. The shape of it, though not seen, wrapped around her like a blanket. She couldn't breathe.

There was a click.

The weight on her chest seemed to lift for a second, and the thing—no, the force—retreated. But it wasn't over. It was just the beginning.

Her breath, sharp and shallow, had nowhere to go. She could hardly move her body, but she had to. She had to do something.

The door to the hallway creaked.

And then she heard it—two sets of footsteps. One was quick, one was slow, methodical, dragging.

Alison didn't want to turn. She didn't want to face the truth.

But the thing wasn't done. It never stopped.

She forced her eyes open, and there it was again. That shape. That crawling, twisted mass, now moving closer.

And then she saw it—the woman.

Her face was pale, eyes wide with panic, but there was something else, something unnatural about her presence. She was hollow. Empty. She didn't even seem human anymore.

Alison tried to speak, but nothing came out. She watched, helpless, as the woman reached for her stomach. And there, she could see it. The baby—empty, cold, not a breath in it.

Her heart stopped.

And then the crawling mass moved forward again, taking what was left of her hope.

The baby, her baby, was gone. It had been taken. And Alison knew that she wasn't meant to survive.

The last thing she felt was the terrible weight of her own despair, as though the thing inside her was consuming her from the inside out.

She knew it would never stop.

Not until everyone was gone.