Midnight Bite

The chocolate was left at her doorstep—no note, no wrapper, just a perfect square with a faint gold shimmer.

Ira didn’t remember ordering anything sweet, but something about the piece called to her. It smelled like burnt caramel and forest rain. Odd, but inviting. She took it inside, placed it on a ceramic plate, and stared. Midnight struck. Her phone buzzed—"Eat it. Now."

The number was unknown. She laughed nervously and set the phone aside. But the chocolate had... melted slightly. It looked different now. Glossy. Almost alive.

Curious and unnerved, she broke a tiny piece and tasted it.
A burst of flavor—intense, bittersweet, earthy—filled her mouth. Then, silence.

Her house, usually humming with fridge sounds and creaks, was dead quiet. Her reflection in the window blinked after she did. Her heart raced. She ran to the bathroom, flipped on the light—

—her eyes had turned completely black.

She backed away from the mirror, panting, grabbing her phone to call someone—anyone.

A second buzz.
"You’re awake now. Good. Hungry?"

Her gaze shifted slowly to the rest of the chocolate on the plate. It hadn’t melted. It was growing. Overflowing.

Hands trembling, she stepped back, reaching for the front door.

It wouldn’t open.
Every window sealed.
Every light flickered.

And from the kitchen came a soft snap, like a piece being broken.

But she was alone.
Wasn’t she?

What do you think happened next?
Drop your guesses below…👇