Every sound you make travels. Your footsteps. A chain you brushed past in the

dark. A door you left open behind you.

None of it is scripted. It listens, it goes to where the noise came from, and it

searches. It opens doors. It checks the places you would hide.

But it gives itself away too. It breathes. It drags its feet. It makes one

sound when it finds your trail and a different one when it loses it — and once

you learn the difference, you can survive on hearing alone.

The house works both ways. Clocks tick in empty hallways, rain hits the windows,

wind comes down the chimney. The silence is never quite empty, so you are never

quite sure what you just heard.

Coming soon

The house has been waiting a long time. Not much longer.

Wishlist to know when.