In this unsettling story, a young person relocates to a new home, only to find themselves consumed by an eerie sense of isolation and dread. Haunted by an irrational fear of open doors and a strange fixation on the glossy wardrobe in their room, they begin to see a distorted version of themselves in its reflection—an uncanny figure with hollow, unrecognizable eyes. As sleepless nights blur the boundaries of reality, they spiral into an intense loneliness, wondering if the true horror lies in the reflection... or within themselves.

In this haunting story, a woman moves into a new home on a quiet hill, content with the sense of peace it brings. However, her nights are soon disrupted by piercing cries from her baby’s nursery. As she tends to the child each night, the nursery’s eerie decay—molded walls, a green, putrid puddle, and a rotting cot—seems to go unnoticed by her, warped by her perception of maternal happiness. Cradling the silent doll she believes is her baby, she finds comfort in her crumbling reality, while her husband remains unresponsive, frozen like a portrait on the wall. The story unravels her descent into a fractured, uncanny world, where isolation and despair mask themselves as family love.

In this eerie tale, Sylvia, an elderly woman, is haunted by memories of her vanished sister, Raven. While Sylvia stares at an old photograph and hums a childhood song about a kookaburra, strange visions blur the line between past and present. Her granddaughter Fay listens as Sylvia recounts haunting fragments of her life with Raven, including the kookaburra that became her sister’s only companion. Sylvia believes Raven’s ghost still watches from the riverbank. As Fay leaves, she glimpses a shadowy figure by the water, dissolving into the night, echoing Sylvia’s claim that Raven never truly left.