One eerie tale every day, to let you experience the scratching inside the fridge at three in the morning, the hand tugging at your clothes beneath the seat on the last bus, and the blood-red figure inside an ancestral jade pendant. Just when you think everyday life is a safe haven, the elevator in these stories stops at a nonexistent floor at midnight, the mirror swallows half your face as you turn away, and the name on the delivery order may belong to someone you saw reported missing on the news last week. Every word is the prelude to an icicle stabbing your neck. When you finish reading, remember to check under the bed. The moonlight is soaking your shadow until it becomes another human shape.
