The storm outside raged like a feral beast, hammering the old Victorian house with rain and howling winds. Inside, Emily crept down the narrow hallway, her flashlight trembling in her hand. The house had been empty for years—or so she thought. Every creak of the floorboards beneath her weight felt deafening, each sound ricocheting off the peeling wallpaper.

A faint whisper brushed past her ear.

“Emily…”

She froze, her breath hitching. The sound had come from behind her, but when she spun around, the hallway stretched endlessly, darkness swallowing the far end. She hadn’t come alone; the realtor was supposed to meet her here. But where was he now? She strained to hear past the storm’s groans, but all that greeted her was an eerie silence.

Then, the whispers started again—this time louder.

“Emily… run.”

The flashlight flickered, plunging her into darkness for a heartbeat before sputtering back to life. She gasped, her heart pounding. Her hands were slick with sweat as she tightened her grip on the cold metal.

“Is someone there?” Her voice wavered, barely louder than the whispers.

A soft tapping echoed from the far end of the hallway. Tap. Tap. Tap. It grew louder and closer, like the rhythmic click of bare feet against the wooden floor.

The flashlight died completely.

“Please, no,” she whimpered, fumbling with the buttons. Panic clawed at her chest. The tapping had stopped, replaced by the sound of ragged breathing inches from her face.

Then, the stench hit her—a sickly sweet decay, like rotting meat left out in the summer heat. A hand brushed against her arm. Ice cold.

The flashlight blinked on again, and Emily screamed.

A gaunt, hollow-eyed figure loomed inches from her, its mouth twisted into a grotesque grin. The skin around its eyes was stretched thin, almost translucent, and it tilted its head, studying her like prey. It raised a finger to its lips, the nail blackened and cracked.

“Shhh…” it hissed.

Before she could turn to run, it grabbed her wrist with unnatural speed. Her scream echoed through the house as the flashlight clattered to the floor, its beam illuminating the walls. They were moving—warped and writhing like a living organism. Faint, pale hands pushed out from the wallpaper, their fingers clawing and stretching, reaching for her.

She thrashed against the figure’s iron grip, its eyes glowing faintly now, like embers in a dying fire. With an ear-piercing screech, the walls erupted, and the hands dragged her into the suffocating darkness.

The flashlight flickered one last time, revealing only the empty hallway.