A Thing in the Dark

Leo had always been the kind of person who couldn’t leave well enough alone. That was why, on a warm Saturday afternoon, he found himself squeezed inside a giant doghouse in the parking lot of the creepiest pet store in the county.

“Take a picture!” he called with a massive grin spread across his face.

I rolled my eyes. “Get out of there, Leo.”

“Why?”

“Because, this place gives me the creeps!”

Leo laughed and leaned farther out of the oversized doghouse. “It’s a doghouse, Anna. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Chloe snorted. “You really shouldn’t ask questions like that.”

“Why not?”

“Because every time somebody asks that, something bad happens.”

“That’s completely made up.”

“No it isn’t!”

While they argued, I glanced toward the pet store. The front windows were dark despite the OPEN sign hanging in the door. For a second, I thought I saw a shadow standing inside, watching us from somewhere beyond the glass. When I blinked, the shadow was gone.

A chill crawled up my spine. Then came a sound like a thunderclap.

The noise was so sudden and so loud that all three of us jumped. The ground trembled beneath our feet, rattling the doghouses and sending a flock of birds bursting from a nearby power line.

“What was that?” Chloe asked.

I didn’t answer immediately. My attention had drifted upward, and as I stared at the sky, a knot began forming in my stomach. Something was wrong. The bright blue afternoon I’d been standing under only moments ago had vanished. In its place spread a sickly yellow-green haze that stretched from one end of the sky to the other. The strange light washed over the parking lot, turning everything pale and unnatural, as though the world had suddenly become older.

Beside me, Chloe followed my gaze. “Okay,” she said quietly. “That’s not normal.”

Leo’s grin faltered. “Maybe a storm’s coming,” he offered. The uncertainty in his voice made it sound as though he was trying to convince himself more than us. Then, before either of us could respond, his expression changed completely. Whatever color remained in his face drained away as he stared down into the darkness of the doghouse.

“Uh… guys? Something just touched my leg.”

Chloe rolled her eyes. “Very funny.”

“I’m serious.” His voice cracked slightly. “There’s something down here.”

“It’s a doghouse, feather-brain. There’s nothing down there but plastic.”

There was a pause as the three of us stood frozen beneath the sickly yellow-green sky. Even the parking lot seemed strangely quiet now. No cars passed on the road, no birds sang in the trees, and no voices drifted from the nearby shops. The only sound came from a faint breeze rattling the row of doghouses beside us.

Then came a loud crack. All three of us jumped as the floor of the doghouse split straight down the middle. The two halves folded apart like a trapdoor, revealing a black opening underneath. The darkness below seemed unnatural somehow, swallowing the sunlight that reached it.

Leo’s eyes widened before his entire body jerked violently and a terrified scream tore from his throat. Whatever had him wasn’t visible, but it was strong enough to drag him toward the darkness despite his desperate attempts to hold on.

Chloe and I reacted without thinking. We rushed forward and grabbed his arms, nearly falling into the opening ourselves. For one brief moment, it felt as though we had actually stopped him. Leo’s downward movement slowed, and hope surged through me as I tightened my grip and planted my feet against the pavement.

Suddenly, whatever had a hold of Leo pulled hard.

The force caught all three of us off guard. Leo slipped through our fingers, and before either Chloe or I could recover, we were yanked forward after him. I expected to crash into the bottom of a pit. Instead, I slammed onto cold metal and immediately began sliding downward.

Three enormous metal tubes twisted around one another like giant waterslides. The same strange yellow-green light illuminated the tunnels, reflecting off the metal walls and making them shine like tarnished brass.

At first, the three slides remained close together. Leo raced down one while Chloe and I occupied the others, the twisting tubes weaving around each other like snakes. Whenever the curves lined up just right, I could catch glimpses of them through the open sides.

We stretched our arms toward one another whenever the slides drifted close, desperately trying to grab hold of somebody. For a few seconds, it even seemed possible. Our fingertips came within inches of touching several times as the tunnels wound together beneath the earth.

Then the tunnels began to drift farther apart. Metal walls slowly rose over the tops of the slides, cutting off more and more of my view. The openings narrowed, the yellow-green light dimmed, and before long, I could only catch brief glimpses of Chloe and Leo through small gaps where the tunnels crossed paths.

As the distance between us continued growing, their voices gradually became quieter. The tunnels carried us in different directions, and eventually I could no longer see either of them at all. I kept calling their names, hoping for a response, but the only answers were faint echoes that seemed to come from every direction at once.

Soon, even those disappeared.

The farther I traveled, the darker the tunnel became. The yellow-green glow faded until it was little more than a dim reflection dancing across the smooth metal walls. Then that too began to vanish, leaving me alone with the sound of air rushing past my ears and the frantic pounding of my own heart.

Panic began creeping into my chest. I had no idea how long I had been sliding or where the tunnel was taking me. The darkness was so complete now that it felt less like an absence of light and more like something alive, pressing in from all sides as I rushed deeper and deeper underground.

Then the slide simply disappeared.

The fall lasted only a moment before I slammed onto a hard floor. Pain shot through my arms and legs as I tumbled across the smooth surface and came to rest on my side. For several seconds, I could do nothing but lie there, gasping for breath and trying to understand what had just happened.

When I finally pushed myself upright and looked around, a strange sense of familiarity washed over me.

I know this place.

The hallway stretched out in front of me exactly where I remembered it. To my left was the gymnasium, hidden behind a familiar set of double doors. On my right sat the cafeteria, its own double doors standing closed and silent. Far ahead, the hallway continued toward the front office.

It was my old elementary school.

Except it wasn’t.

No sunlight streamed through the windows in the doors. No sounds echoed from the gym or cafeteria. Beyond the glass panes was nothing but darkness. The only illumination came from the same sickly yellow-green lights overhead, flickering weakly as they stretched down the length of the hallway.

“Leo?!” I called, my voice echoing through the corridor. “Chloe?!”

Nothing.

The silence felt wrong. Schools weren’t supposed to be silent. Even after everyone went home, there were always distant sounds. The hum of the air conditioners, the ticking of hallway clocks, or the faint buzz of fluorescent lights overhead. This place had none of that.

The emptiness of the hallway pressed against me from every direction. The flickering yellow-green lights cast long shadows across the floor, and every classroom door seemed to open into nothing but darkness.

Then something tapped my shoulder.

My heart leapt into my throat.

The hand was far too large to be human.

Every instinct in my body screamed at me to run, and for once I listened. My shoes pounded against the floor as I sprinted down the hallway as fast as I could. The yellow-green lights flashed overhead while terror clawed at the back of my mind. I could feel something behind me. I couldn’t hear it. I couldn’t see it. Yet somehow I knew it was there.

Reaching the end of the hall, I turned sharply right into the kindergarten wing and kept running. My lungs burned and my legs ached, but I didn’t dare slow down. The strange presence remained behind me for several terrifying seconds before, without warning, it vanished.

I skidded to a stop and bent over, struggling to catch my breath. Every nerve in my body told me not to do it, but I looked back anyway. The hallway was empty. The flickering lights continued their endless buzzing, and classroom doors sat motionless like before. There was nothing there.

My hands shook as I straightened.

Moving much more slowly now, I continued down the kindergarten hallway. The library appeared first, its darkened entrance looking more like a cave than a room full of books. The art room came next, followed by the old computer lab where rows of silent monitors sat gathering dust beneath the flickering lights. One empty classroom after another passed by as I walked, each one somehow familiar and wrong at the same time.

Eventually, I reached the end of the hallway and turned right into the first and second grade wing. That was when I noticed the lights. One of them had gone out, though I was certain it had been on a moment ago. Before I could convince myself I was imagining things, another light farther down the hallway flickered and died with a sharp pop.

Then another went out.

And another.

As I watched, a section of hallway disappeared into shadow, and for a brief second I saw something standing there. The flickering lights outlined its shape before the next bulb went dark. It was far too large to be a person. Long arms hung at its sides, and its head nearly brushed the ceiling. I couldn’t make out any details beyond that before the darkness swallowed it once again.

My body moved before my brain could catch up.

I ran.

Every step echoed through the school as I sprinted down the hallway. Behind me, the lights continued to shut off one by one. At first the pops came several seconds apart, but they quickly grew faster. The darkness surged forward with each dying bulb, devouring more and more of the corridor as it chased me.

I risked a glance over my shoulder. The thing was still there.

Every time the remaining lights flickered, I caught another glimpse of its outline moving through the darkness. It wasn’t running. It wasn’t rushing. Somehow it seemed to glide forward, and the certainty that it would eventually catch me terrified me more than if it had been charging outright.

Tears blurred my vision as I pushed myself faster. My lungs burned, my legs screamed, and the pounding of my feet mixed with the rapid succession of popping lights behind me. The presence was so close now that I could feel it. It was like standing too near an open freezer, a cold pressure pressing against the back of my neck.

I turned the corner where the kindergarten hallway should have continued.

The hallway was gone.

Somehow, while I had been running, the school had changed.

Where the long corridor should have stretched ahead, there was now only a wall.

I dug my heels into the floor and tried to stop, but I was moving too fast. My shoes slid across the polished surface as I flailed for balance. Behind me, another light popped and died. The wall rushed toward me, and I remember thinking that this was it. I was about to slam face-first into solid brick, and the monster would catch me.

Instead, the world lurched.

The hallway vanished.

Bright daylight hit my eyes. I lurched forward onto the sidewalk and nearly crashed to the ground. On either side of me, Leo and Chloe burst through the doorway at the exact same moment, both of them drenched in sweat and gasping for breath just like I was.

For several seconds, none of us spoke. We simply stood there in the parking lot, bent over and exhausted, trying to process what had just happened.

Standing in the doorway of the pet store was an old man I had never seen before. He didn’t look surprised to see us. If anything, he looked amused.

A slow smirk spread across his face. “You kids are lucky,” he said. “Old Hollowjaw doesn’t usually fail a hunt.” The old man chuckled to himself. “Much less three.”

None of us said a word.

We didn’t need to.

The look on each other’s faces told us we were all thinking the same thing.

The old man leaned forward slightly. “Maybe this’ll teach you kids to keep your noses out of things.”

Leo spun around and bolted for his car. Chloe and I weren’t far behind. We practically threw ourselves inside, slamming the doors shut behind us. A second later the engine roared to life, and the tires squealed against the pavement as we tore out of the parking lot.

Behind us, the old man’s laughter echoed through the air.

Chloe and I both turned to look through the rear window. For a split second, I could have sworn the old man wasn’t standing there anymore. In his place stood a tall shadow. Two glowing yellow eyes stared after us from the darkness. Then the pet store disappeared behind a bend in the road.

None of us ever went back.

And none of us ever talked about what happened beneath that doghouse.

But every now and then, when I’m lying awake at night, I find myself thinking about those flickering yellow-green lights and the thing that chased me through those endless hallways.

Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if it had caught me.

Then I remember the old man’s words.

Old Hollowjaw doesn’t usually fail a hunt.

And I stop wondering.