Anton sighed, setting down his book. He wasn't expecting anyone. He lived alone, and even the postman usually just shoved letters under the door. He opened the heavy, creaking door.
He didn't call the police. He just turned up the heat, sat in his chair, and finally started reading aloud to the empty, crowded room. If you liked this, I can: Make the story or more psychological. Change the setting to a modern setting . gosty po tb
The next morning, Anton found it. On his antique wooden mirror, written in fine dust, were the words: Gosty po TB . Anton sighed, setting down his book
Anton understood then that the dampness in the walls wasn't just rain. It was the presence of those who had lived—and died—in the crowded, sick-choked communal apartments of the past, waiting for someone to finally open the door and listen to their silent, persistent story. He opened the heavy, creaking door
He was in the middle of a tedious chapter when the tapping changed. It wasn’t just rain anymore. It was a rhythmic, dry knock... knock... knock from the hallway.
Write a focusing on what happens when Anton finally talks to them.