Reflected Reset

From the moment the genre poll closed, I knew the first story would be a suspense tale. However, for me, this genre is a little more difficult to write. It always felt too close to a thriller which made it hard for me to keep from drifting. During the drafting process, I went searching for a clear distinction between the two genres. According to some guy on the internet, while both genres share the same literary DNA, the key difference lies in how the author uses tension. Suspense makes you worry about what might happen. Thrillers make you fear what’s happening right now.

That insight finally separated the two in my mind, and gave me the footing I needed. Armed with that clarity, I turned to this story and used ChatGPT to generate a few generic suspense plots for inspiration. After several attempts, one of them sparked an idea. And from that initial concept, it grew into the first draft of Reflected Reset, the first suspense tale where I understood the distinction that defines the genre.

Night carries its own kind of weight. It’s not the darkness itself that unnerves us, but what lingers in the quiet between sounds. Those fragile moments when ordinary things feel unfamiliar. That’s where this story lives. It unfolds in the hush of a place that should feel safe, yet something prevents that comfort. Every detail presses closer. Every breath grows a little heavier. And the stillness starts to listen back.

If you enjoy tension that creeps rather than leaps, or stories that turn the familiar into something uncertain, this one was written for you. Patrons can read the full tale below and step deeper into the quiet. For everyone else, a sample follows.

As the door swung open, the apartment’s silence assaulted Daniel. He stood in front of the opening, catching light seeping from the darkness. He paused in the doorway, his keys dangling from his fingertips. Without entering, he realized the room’s stillness was unnatural and constricting.

The usual hum of the refrigerator and the whine of the fan vanished. The stifling air surrounded him, as though the walls exhaled while listening to the world’s conversation. When he stepped inside, he found a single lamp, its dim glow offering little comfort. But the battling light caught his attention.

A pulse of warmth brushed his cheek, faint but deliberate. Daniel froze. The lamp’s halo trembled as if disturbed by unseen motion. The shadows swayed against the walls, stretching farther than their shapes would suggest, before settling back to their stillness.

“I never leave you turned on.”

Licking his cracked lips, he pulled the heavy door closed behind him. As the unnatural soft click echoed throughout the foyer, his eyes flicked through the shadows as he touched his throat. “Hello? Is anyone here?”

The suffocating silence pressed against him. Beads of sweat formed on his brow as he stepped back. A harsh scrape whispered deeper in the apartment. He tilted his head, uncertain of the looming danger that invaded his home. He strained his ears. Only the low thrum of his heartbeat pounded in his skull, daring him to speak again to break the stillness.

Daniel swallowed the sudden lump in his throat and hunched his shoulders before inching forward. Each click of his shoes felt like a landmine ready to go off. Everything sat where it should, save for the solitary cup of water perched upon the counter.