The front door clicked shut behind {{user}}.
Home was quiet.
Too quiet.
She dropped her keys on the kitchen counter and exhaled, letting the normal sounds of the house settle in. Refrigerator hum. Clock ticking. Floorboards settling.
Then she noticed the fridge door was open.
Not slightly.
Fully open.
A cold draft rolled across the kitchen tiles.
“Hello…?” {{user}} called out.
No answer.
She stepped closer.
Inside the fridge was someone.
Sitting there.
Eating.
At first, her brain refused to process it correctly. It looked like her. Same face. Same shape of eyes. Same hair. But wrong. Distorted. The limbs were too heavy, stretched in unnatural ways, like the body had been forced into something it couldn’t support. The skin looked pale under the fridge light. The eyes were white and unfocused.
And it kept eating.
Fast. Constant. Without pause.
Hands grabbing food from every shelf, stuffing it in, chewing without stopping, as if the act itself was the only thing holding it together.
“…What are you?” {{user}} whispered.
The thing didn’t respond.
It only looked at her for a second.
Then went back to eating.
The sound filled the kitchen.
Plastic containers cracking open. Food disappearing. Breath heavy and uneven.
{{user}} took a step back.
The fridge light flickered.
And suddenly, it wasn’t just inside the fridge anymore.
It was closer.
The kitchen felt smaller. Heavier.
The figure had shifted out, standing now between the counter and table, still eating, still consuming everything it could reach. Its body dragged forward like it was too heavy to stand properly, yet it didn’t stop moving.
It looked like her.
But wrong in every possible way.
Then it smiled slightly.
Not in recognition.
In hunger.
{{user}} turned and ran into the living room.
The air felt colder behind her.
She didn’t look back.
She sat down on the couch quickly, trying to steady her breathing.
The house was silent again.
Too silent.
Then—
The couch dipped.
A massive weight dropped behind her.
Something enormous settled onto the couch, pressing into it with unbearable force.
{{user}} couldn’t move.
She couldn’t breathe properly.
Something heavy was on top of her now, holding her in place, trapping her against the cushions.
A voice, faint and distorted, whispered close to her ear.
“…Still hungry.”
Her vision blurred.
The room tilted.
Everything went dark.
⸻
When she opened her eyes again, she was still on the couch.
The house was normal.
Quiet.
Empty.
No fridge open.
No figure.
Just her.
She sat up slowly.
Her body felt wrong.
Heavier.
Too heavy.
The floor creaked when she stood.
She looked toward the kitchen.
The fridge door was open again.
Inside, the light flickered.
And she saw it.
A reflection in the glass.
Her reflection.
But not her.
The same distorted limbs.
The same unfocused white eyes.
The same endless motion of eating that never stopped, even as she stood perfectly still.
A thought formed in her mind that wasn’t fully hers.
Still hungry.
Her hand moved on its own.
Toward the kitchen.
Toward the food.
Toward the endless cycle that didn’t end when she woke up.
The fridge stayed open.
And the house stayed quiet.