An architect reveals the hidden truth behind a tragedy. A house built too close to the river, a project signed despite warnings from the land, three lives lost. No investigation, no conviction. Only silence… and a voice confessing.


Music by Rockot from Pixabay

night watchman recounts his solitary patrols in a building where nothing ever seems to happen.
But behind the routine lies a choice...



Music by Aleksey Chistilin from Pixabay

A former janitor reveals the secret hidden behind the doors of an old cabinet in an abandoned school.


Music by giocon from Pixabay

A man recounts the slow, silent end of his relationship, poisoned by the smell of wisteria and a suspicion that grew like an invasive weed.
No fights, no explicit violence—just a precise, calm act to put an end to what was rotting inside the house.
An episode filled with silences, scents, and missed glances.


Music by Back_Drop from Pixabay

A house that never changes.
A door that closes every evening at the same time.
And a key that, after turning for so long, ended up breaking something.
A silent act. A slow resentment.
A man who realized too late that some locks… also trap you inside.


Music by Grand_Project from Pixabay

Order, rules, repetition.
He was a precise man.
Always the same shirt.
Always the same schedule.
But that Wednesday shirt...
An obsessive, meticulous confession, like the act that changed everything.
Because when order falters, even blood can seem clean. 

Music by Aleksey Chistilin from Pixabay

For thirty-six years, he served in silence. He heard everything.
He saw everything.
One laugh too many, a humiliation never swallowed.
And then… a glass. The last one.
Because some crimes are committed on tiptoe.


And without ever raising a voice. Music by Sergei Chetvertnykh from Pixabay

A night shift. A forgotten room. A gaze that speaks louder than a thousand words.
In Room 211, there was only silence… and a request that needed no voice.
Because sometimes, killing… is just an act of understanding.

Music by Clavier Clavier from Pixabay

An invisible employee, a sterile routine, a trivial act that becomes the final straw.
The letter opener wasn’t just a desk tool.
It was the only thing that was his. And someone touched it.
A cold, lucid confession.
Because sometimes, the smallest act ignites the quietest instinct.

Music by LiteSaturation from Pixabay