Laundry Horror

I was lying in bed last night when I heard slow, dragging footsteps creeping down the

hallway—heavy, deliberate, getting closer to my room with every heartbeat.

The door creaked open on its own, and a tall shadow stepped inside, whispering my name

in a voice so cold it felt like someone poured ice water down my spine. I froze,

convinced this was the moment every horror movie warns you about… until the figure leaned

close and hissed, “You forgot to switch the laundry.” That’s when I realized it was just my mom,

standing in the dark like a cryptid, furious that I left wet clothes in the washer again.