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The Whispering Hallway
#WritcoStoryChallenge
The footsteps following me sounded closer. I ran through the empty corridors of the hospital, my heart pounding with terror.
I turned a corner and stopped short. I had reached a dead end.
The footsteps following me sounded closer. I ran through the empty corridors of the hospital, my heart pounding with terror. The sterile white walls, usually so reassuring, now seemed suffocating and cold. My breath came in ragged gasps as I pushed myself faster, my shoes clicking against the tile floor. I didn’t dare look behind me, but I could feel them—each step growing louder, more deliberate. Whoever was behind me wasn’t in a hurry, but they were getting closer.
The corridors twisted and turned, but they all felt the same. Empty. Lifeless. A hospital at night was supposed to be quiet, but the silence here was suffocating, thick with something darker. I had been working late, far too late, finishing paperwork I had been putting off for weeks. At first, the sound of the footsteps had seemed like an illusion—just a trick of my tired mind. But the longer I walked, the more certain I became that they were real.
I rounded a corner, praying for an exit or a way to lose whoever was following me. But I stopped short, breath catching in my throat. My heart dropped. I had reached a dead end.
The hallway stretched ahead of me, but no doors. No windows. Just more sterile, lifeless walls, bathed in the flickering fluorescent lights above. Behind me, the footsteps halted.
I could feel them there, just out of sight. The weight of their presence pressed down on me. Every hair on the back of my neck stood up. There was no escape.
"Who's there?" My voice cracked, desperate and trembling.
No answer.
I took a step back, my pulse racing, but my feet felt glued to the floor. The air was thick, almost suffocating, like the building itself was holding its breath. My mind was spiraling, trying to make sense of it. There was no reason to be afraid. No one had been in the hospital when I left the nurse’s station, and the last shift had finished hours ago.
A low, almost imperceptible sound reached my ears—a soft shuffle of feet on tile, like someone dragging themselves closer. The hairs on the back of my neck prickled as I realized the footsteps...
The footsteps following me sounded closer. I ran through the empty corridors of the hospital, my heart pounding with terror.
I turned a corner and stopped short. I had reached a dead end.
The footsteps following me sounded closer. I ran through the empty corridors of the hospital, my heart pounding with terror. The sterile white walls, usually so reassuring, now seemed suffocating and cold. My breath came in ragged gasps as I pushed myself faster, my shoes clicking against the tile floor. I didn’t dare look behind me, but I could feel them—each step growing louder, more deliberate. Whoever was behind me wasn’t in a hurry, but they were getting closer.
The corridors twisted and turned, but they all felt the same. Empty. Lifeless. A hospital at night was supposed to be quiet, but the silence here was suffocating, thick with something darker. I had been working late, far too late, finishing paperwork I had been putting off for weeks. At first, the sound of the footsteps had seemed like an illusion—just a trick of my tired mind. But the longer I walked, the more certain I became that they were real.
I rounded a corner, praying for an exit or a way to lose whoever was following me. But I stopped short, breath catching in my throat. My heart dropped. I had reached a dead end.
The hallway stretched ahead of me, but no doors. No windows. Just more sterile, lifeless walls, bathed in the flickering fluorescent lights above. Behind me, the footsteps halted.
I could feel them there, just out of sight. The weight of their presence pressed down on me. Every hair on the back of my neck stood up. There was no escape.
"Who's there?" My voice cracked, desperate and trembling.
No answer.
I took a step back, my pulse racing, but my feet felt glued to the floor. The air was thick, almost suffocating, like the building itself was holding its breath. My mind was spiraling, trying to make sense of it. There was no reason to be afraid. No one had been in the hospital when I left the nurse’s station, and the last shift had finished hours ago.
A low, almost imperceptible sound reached my ears—a soft shuffle of feet on tile, like someone dragging themselves closer. The hairs on the back of my neck prickled as I realized the footsteps...
