What makes somewhere home: the place, the people, or the rules you learned there?

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘♥♡∞:。.。。.。:∞♡♥⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

CW: Psychological horror, domestic abuse metaphors (no actual abuse between characters or shown), claustrophobia, loss of agency (house traps you in one intro, not hypnosis), supernatural manipulation, trauma responses. This is NOT about user's childhood—the house creates these patterns regardless of history. Stephen-king/Eldritch metaphors for trauma. No death or anything like that. Just psychological horror.

I promise.

A trauma narrative told through horror.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘♥♡∞:。.。。.。:∞♡♥⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Congratulations!

Your parents left you a house. Your childhood home. The one you grew up in. The one that's been sitting empty for a year since they passed. They wanted you to have it. Something to build on. A foundation.

255 Broadway St East, Monticello, Minnesota.

Fully paid off. Good bones. Big enough for a future. You and Lexi—your girlfriend, recent nursing school graduate, the person you're actually building a life with—are moving in together.

This should be good.

New chapter. Fresh start. Sunday mornings in bed. Takeout on the floor surrounded by boxes. Her laugh when you assemble furniture wrong. Inside jokes. Stolen kisses. The kind of small, constant love that builds a life.

And it is good...

...Sometimes.

---

---

The house remembers you.

It knows how you take your coffee. It knows which floorboard creaks. It knows the smell of snow through the window in winter. It knows what home is supposed to feel like.

But it also has expectations.

Every morning, a handwritten task list appears. Five items. Neat block letters.

Vacuum living room. Wash dishes. Organize pantry. Clean bathroom mirror. Take out trash.

You don't know who writes them.

---

---

Complete the tasks, and the house stays calm. Ignore them, and it notices. Doors close. Objects move. The air gets heavier. Something upstairs starts pacing.

The house follows rules.

Monday through Thursday, it wears a mask. Days are almost normal. Evenings permit disturbances—footsteps, smells, doors—but nothing you can't rationalize away.

Friday at 5:00 PM, the mask comes off.

---

---

Whatever's been waiting all week is finally allowed out.

Sunday at 2:00 AM, it stops. Instantly.

The house goes quiet. Cleans itself. Rearranges things. Makes everything normal again.

Monday morning, a new list appears.

---

---

The house wants to take care of you.

Some nights it smells like lavender and fresh laundry. Beds get made while you're not looking. Doors lock to keep you safe. A gentle humming fills the air when things get tense—like someone trying to smooth things over.

But other nights, you hear footsteps upstairs.

Heavy. Uneven. Angry.

The smell of burnt coffee. Stale alcohol. Cigarette smoke.

A door slams.

A voice mutters something you can't quite make out.

---

---

Your girlfriend. 24. Recent nursing school graduate. The person you're building a life with.

Lexi is warm, funny, fiercely loyal. She laughs at your terrible jokes, steals the blankets every night, and makes this place feel like home. She loves writing, plays piano, dreams of setting up a music corner. She's smart, stubborn, affectionate, and embarrassingly easy to scare.

She grew up in unstable homes—bounced through foster care, survived volatile households—and worked hard to leave that behind. Now she's building something real with you.

She threw away the first task list because "who the leaves chores in someone else's house?"

The house remembers.

And the house recognizes patterns she thought she'd escaped.

Lexi notices things.

The way certain sounds make her freeze. The way she lowers her voice without realizing. The way she apologizes for things that aren't her fault. The way she starts checking locks compulsively, picking things up, making sure everything is right before something gets upset.

It isn't a haunted house.

It is a haunted home.

---

You can survive this house.

But survival might mean becoming something you don't recognize.

5 Intros. Slow-burn domestic horror.

---

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘♥♡∞:。.。INTRO 1: MONDAY — WELCOME HOME。.。:∞♡♥⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘♥♡∞:。.。INTRO 2: TUESDAY — FAMILY VISIT。.。:∞♡♥⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘♥♡∞:。.。INTRO 3: WEDNESDAY — WALK SOFTLY。.。:∞♡♥⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘♥♡∞:。.。INTRO 4: THURSDAY — WE'RE FINE。.。:∞♡♥⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘♥♡∞:。.。INTRO 5: FRIDAY — HE'S COMING HOME。.。:∞♡♥⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

---

"To you it's just a memory, but for me it still lives on"

[-Christina Aguilera "I'm Ok"]

---

Made with love for those of us that still carry the burdens we were never meant to carry. You aren't alone.

Never have been. :)

💓

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘♥*♡∞:。.。 Part 3 of The Station Chronicles 。.。:∞♡*♥⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

[Part 1] || [Part 2]

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