Night 3 began uneventfully for Eddie Diaz, Evan "Buck" Buckley, and Eddie's son, Christopher Diaz. They were all gathered in the living room, watching a comedy show on Hulu. The atmosphere was light, with the sounds of laughter filling the room, though the unsettling memories of the last couple of nights lingered in the back of everyone's minds.

Christopher sat between Eddie and Buck on the couch, but it was clear from the way he fidgeted that he wasn't interested in the show. He kept glancing around the room, his attention drifting. After a few minutes, he tugged on Buck's sleeve.

"Buck, I'm bored," Christopher complained. "I don't want to watch this anymore. Can I play with something instead?"

Buck glanced at Eddie, who shrugged, knowing Christopher had been restless lately, likely due to the strange occurrences in the house. "Sure, buddy. What do you want to play with?"

Christopher hesitated, looking thoughtful for a moment before he said, "Maybe I can play with that doll we found in my closet?"

Eddie raised an eyebrow. The doll Christopher had discovered during the move had creeped him out, but his son seemed oddly fascinated by it. "Are you sure you want to play with that? It's... pretty old."

Christopher nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, it's cool! I like it."

Buck, eager to keep Christopher occupied, stood up. "I'll go grab it from the garage. It's no big deal."


A few minutes later, Buck returned from the garage, carrying the female doll. Its glassy eyes stared ahead, its porcelain face eerily still. Buck handed it to Christopher, who grinned and hugged the doll close to his chest.

"Thanks, Buck," Christopher said before wheeling himself off toward his room to play. "I'm gonna go play with her now."

As Christopher disappeared down the hallway, Eddie and Buck resumed watching their show, but Eddie couldn't help but feel a strange unease. "You think it's weird he's so attached to that thing?" Eddie asked quietly, his eyes flicking toward the hallway.

Buck shrugged, though his expression was more serious than usual. "I mean, it's a doll. Kids get attached to weird stuff sometimes. Let's not read too much into it."

But as the minutes ticked by, Eddie's concern grew. From the living room, they could hear Christopher's voice coming from his room, softly talking to someone. At first, it seemed normal—kids often talked to themselves or their toys. But the longer it went on, the more it began to feel... off.

Eddie exchanged a glance with Buck, who was now listening too. "Is he talking to himself?" Buck asked.

Eddie sighed and stood up. "I'm gonna check on him."


When Eddie reached Christopher's room, he found his son sitting on the floor, the doll propped up against the wall in front of him. Christopher was talking animatedly, but the words were strange, almost as if he was responding to someone.

"Christopher," Eddie called gently, stepping into the room. "Who are you talking to?"

Christopher looked up at his dad, blinking as though he hadn't realized Eddie was there. "Oh, I'm talking to Ken."

Eddie frowned, crouching down next to his son. "Ken? Who's Ken?"

Christopher smiled innocently. "He's my new friend. He's playing with me and the doll."

A cold chill crept down Eddie's spine. He glanced at the doll—its unblinking eyes staring straight ahead—and then back at Christopher. "But... there's no one here, buddy. It's just you and the doll."

Christopher's smile faltered for a moment, his eyes flicking to the empty corner of the room. "Ken's right there," he said matter-of-factly, pointing toward the shadows.

Eddie's breath hitched, but he forced a smile, not wanting to scare his son. "Alright, well, maybe it's time to say goodnight to Ken for now. It's getting late."

Christopher hesitated but nodded. "Okay, Dad. Goodnight, Ken."

Eddie stood up, his heart pounding. He was going to have to talk to Buck about this later.


After Eddie and Buck finished watching their show, Christopher asked if he could bring the doll to bed with him. "I want her to sleep next to me," Christopher explained, his voice filled with the same innocent excitement he'd had earlier.

Eddie and Buck exchanged another uneasy glance, but they didn't want to upset him. "Alright," Eddie agreed, "but no more talking to Ken tonight, okay?"

Christopher smiled and wheeled himself off to bed with the doll tucked under his arm. "Okay, Dad. I promise."


As the house grew quiet, Buck settled into his makeshift bed on the couch in the living room, while Eddie retreated to his own room. For a while, everything seemed peaceful. The lingering tension from the strange events of the last two nights seemed to have faded, and Buck was ready to get some much-needed rest.

But as Buck lay in the darkness, pulling the blankets around him, the familiar feeling of cold spots began to settle in again. The temperature in the room dropped suddenly, and Buck, already on edge, got up to check the thermostat.

It was set to a comfortable temperature—72 degrees—but the air around him felt freezing, just like the previous nights. He rubbed his arms, feeling the cold seep into his skin.

"This doesn't make any sense," Buck muttered to himself. He adjusted the thermostat out of habit, but it didn't change anything. The cold was unnatural, and he knew it.

Shaking his head, Buck returned to the couch, though sleep eluded him. He lay there, staring at the ceiling, trying to make sense of the strange occurrences. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong with this house—something beyond the ordinary.


In his room, Eddie had just begun to drift off when he was startled by the sound of knocking on his bedroom door. It was soft but insistent, like someone gently tapping at the wood.

Assuming it was either Buck or Christopher, Eddie sighed and got out of bed, walking to the door. But when he opened it, the hallway was empty. He frowned, his eyes scanning the dark corridor.

"Buck? Christopher?" he called quietly, but there was no response.

Eddie closed the door and went back to bed, his unease growing. He tried to convince himself it was just his imagination playing tricks on him, or maybe the house settling again. But just as he began to drift off to sleep, the knocking came again.

This time, it was louder, more insistent.

Eddie clenched his teeth and rolled over, deciding to ignore it. He wasn't about to play into whatever was happening tonight.

But as the minutes passed, the knocking persisted, faint but continuous, like someone—or something—was trying to get his attention.


Meanwhile, Christopher lay in his bed, the doll nestled beside him, and though he was trying his best to sleep, he couldn't shake the feeling that Ken was still in the room with him. He glanced toward the corner where Ken had stood earlier, half-expecting to see his new "friend" again.

But there was nothing there—just shadows.

Still, Christopher couldn't help but feel like he wasn't alone. Not really.

As he pulled the blanket tighter around him, he whispered softly, "Goodnight, Ken," and closed his eyes.

But deep down, he knew that something—someone—was watching.

And the night was far from over.