The Breathing House
February 27, 2025
Jake and Lisa had been searching for an affordable home for months when they stumbled upon the old Victorian house on Willow Lane. It was massive, beautiful in a forgotten kind of way, and the price was too good to be true.
“We’ll take it,” Lisa said, ignoring the way the realtor hesitated before handing over the keys.
The first few nights were peaceful. They unpacked, laughed over takeout, and imagined the life they would build there.
Then, Lisa noticed it first.
“The house… it’s breathing.”
Jake frowned. “What?”
“At night,” she whispered. “Listen.”
That night, as they lay in bed, Jake heard it. A soft, rhythmic sound.
Inhale… exhale…
A deep, subtle movement, as if the walls themselves were expanding and contracting.
“It’s just the old wood settling,” Jake assured her, but his voice was uncertain.
2:33 AM
Lisa woke to the sound of footsteps. Slow. Deliberate. Coming from inside the walls.
She shook Jake awake. “Someone’s in the house.”
He grabbed a flashlight and crept down the hallway. The air was thick, humid, like a living thing pressing in on him.
Then, he saw it.
The wallpaper in the hallway moved.
A bulging shift, as if something inside was pressing against it. Something alive.
He stumbled backward. The breathing sound grew louder, more erratic.
Then—
A hand pushed through the wallpaper. Pale. Twitching. Fingernails rotting.
Jake ran.
Lisa was already at the front door, yanking at the handle.
It wouldn’t budge.
The walls convulsed. The floor beneath them shuddered, rippling like flesh.
From the ceiling, a voice whispered, wet and hungry:
“You live inside me now.”
A crack split down the hallway as a gaping mouth formed in the wall, lined with jagged, pulsing teeth.
Lisa screamed. Jake grabbed her hand. They ran for the window, shattering the glass as they tumbled onto the lawn.
The house let out a final exhale before going still.
They never looked back.
The next morning, the house was listed for sale again.
And it waited.
Breathing.