Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 44459 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 222(@200wpm)___ 178(@250wpm)___ 148(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44459 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 222(@200wpm)___ 178(@250wpm)___ 148(@300wpm)
I swung my head to the left, and the hallway was impossibly long. The elevator had to be around the corner, so I couldn’t see Chelsea, but surely she was in there. That thought was what got my bare feet moving.
The lightbulb in the sconce closest to me flickered, and it created a trippy effect with the wallpaper, making the walls look like they were moving. I rubbed my burning eyes and shook my head, trying to clear my fatigue, only to discover I wasn’t seeing things.
The walls were moving.
Hands on the other side pressed against them, making the surface bend and stretch as the hands reached out toward me, like people were trapped inside. The walls were obviously covered in latex and not drywall, but the desired effect was successful and unnerving—especially since I’d been slowly falling apart during the past few scenes. Rivulets of blood oozed from the ceiling, extending to the floor like long slender fingers.
It made me move faster. I was beyond ready to be back in the elevator, not just because I wanted to see Chelsea again but because I needed a break. A moment to pace myself, to catch my breath and remember this was all an elaborate production and nothing more.
The sound of the door creaking open behind me rang out.
Fuck, what now? I groaned in my head.
I turned to see the hospital-gown guy from the last room moving toward me, panic streaking his face. His gown was bloody, and he clasped a hand to his side, and when he spotted me, gibberish spilled from his mouth.
Instinct made me backpedal, and I collided hard with the edge of a side table, knocking the vase on top of it over onto its side. The lights went haywire, flashing in erratic patterns. But that wasn’t what made me freeze in place.
My gaze went past the man wobbling toward me and on to the mirror at the end of the hallway. There was a dark figure growing larger in the reflection, even though it didn’t exist in the hall. It was all black, like light couldn’t escape it. A void except for two bright yellow eyes I couldn’t stop staring at.
The thing was fucking terrifying.
Because the lights were flickering on and off, it masterfully disguised how the void creature stepped through the mirror and into the hall. It was a few feet taller than a man draped in a black cloak, and its shape wasn’t static. The darkness of it billowed like tiny tendrils of inky smoke.
It reminded me of an illustration of a wraith I’d seen years ago in some fucked-up kid’s horror anthology. This creature had arms and hands, but everything was elongated, and the proportions were all wrong.
This wasn’t some contortionist in a rubber suit. The special effects on this creature were next-level, and I was dumbfounded at how beautifully horrifying it was.
The guy in the hospital gown either didn’t see the wraith or pretended not to. He got in my face, screaming nonsense at me, but I stood motionless, in awe of the wraith as it silently moved behind him and dipped to the floor.
What was it doing?
The guy’s eyes went wide with surprise when the creature grabbed one of his ankles, yanked him backward, and sent him to the ground with a hard, painful-sounding thud.
“What the fuck?” The guy was suddenly lucid.
He tried to get his hands under himself, but the wraith jerked him backward. The guy clawed at the carpet, and when he was yanked back again, he turned over his shoulder to look at what had a hold of him.
His body went wooden. “What the fuck is that?”
He squirmed, freaking out and thrashing around, trying to get the creature to release him, but to no avail. I stood like a statue while they fought, although it was a losing battle for the guy in the hospital gown. As the wraith retreated through the mirror, it tugged its captured victim along with it. I stared at the man’s terrified face while his fingers snagged on the edge of the frame.
But the thing was just too strong. It gave a final jerk, breaking the man’s hold, and as soon as they were through, the mirror shimmered, and both vanished.
It left me staring at a slack-jawed reflection of myself.
That was . . . fucked up. But also, kind of amazing.
When the erratic blinking lights began to slow, so did my heart rate, lowering to a level where I no longer worried it was going to beat right out of my chest. The special effects and performance had been so intense and good, it was going to be hard to top what I’d just witnessed.
A light behind me flashed and popped loudly with sparks, like an ancient lightbulb burning out, and the sound caused me to jump nearly a foot in the air. Was this a signal telling me to get moving?