Something in the dark

Something in the dark.

Kim Pong Ho sat down at his table, a generous bowl of kimchi steaming in front of him and emitting a rich, pleasant aroma. Excitement stirred at the prospect of such a delicious meal, so he took his time to ensure everything was just right. The radio was tuned to his favorite station, playing martial music accompanied by rousing patriotic commentary. His sparse apartment was clean and warm, his slippers snug on his feet—a cozy sanctuary enhanced by the rhythmic patter of rain against the windows. Kim ate slowly, savoring every bite before leaning back in his chair, as content as a man could be.

Before long, drowsiness crept in. He glanced at the clock: just before 10:00 PM. *Ah, time for bed,* he thought. He would need plenty of rest for his early start in the morning.

Kim had just shed his fluffy dressing gown when a startling scream erupted from the apartment below, instantly followed by absolute chaos. Glass smashed, furniture crashed, and a violent commotion echoed through the floorboards. Kim stood frozen, tracking the sounds as heavy, rhythmic thuds vibrated right through the soles of his bare feet. Then, just as suddenly as it began, the noise stopped. An eerie silence followed.

His heart thudding against his ribs, Kim crept toward his front door. He cracked it open as slowly and quietly as possible, poking his head out with the utmost caution. The hallway was pitch black, illuminated only by the thin sliver of light escaping his own doorway. He looked right into the darkness, then left. A few doors down, another crack of light cut through the gloom. Another head was protruding from a doorway: his neighbor, Kim Am Lang. Both men stared at one another soundlessly, gawping in sheer terror. Then, as if on cue, both heads silently retreated, and the doors clicked shut.

Kim locked his door with the same agonizing stealth he had used to open it. He stood paralyzed in the dark, mouth open, all his senses strained to the limit.

A great crash erupted from below once more, followed by a chorus of screams and the unmistakable sounds of carnage. Cold sweat leaked from every pore of Kim's body. His stomach churned as he padded back and forth in the hallway, racked with indecision. Should he attempt to flee, or hide from whatever foul calamity was tearing through the building? The thought of stepping out into that pitch-black hallway and descending those dark stairs made him violently nauseous.

The noises rose again, louder this time. The terror was moving systematically from door to door. Before long, the dreaded sounds were no longer beneath him—they were beside him. It was on his floor.

Panic seizing him, Kim rushed from room to room, killing every light before scrambling into the cupboard at the end of the hall. This was it. No more options remained. He could no longer run; he could only hide. He wedged himself as far back into the cramped space as possible and pulled a heavy blanket over his head.

There, wrapped in complete darkness, the stench of his own fear heavy in the air, he listened. He listened to the approaching slaughter, and to his own gasping breaths and hammering heart in the terrifying silences that fell between the screams.

A loud, splintering crack startled Kim so violently that he cracked his head against the low ceiling. A gut-wrenching shriek sent icy daggers through his chest. Sickening thuds and wet, heavy impacts followed. A child’s scream cut through the din, followed by the frantic patter of small feet, a final crash, and a wet, choking death rattle.

It was next door.

Kim could take no more. He clamped his hands over his ears, pressing so tightly it hurt. When he finally lowered his hands, silence had returned—a silence far more terrifying than any noise. He waited in agonizing anticipation, time stretching into an immeasurable void. He tried his best to calm his breathing. He had to be silent. He could not be found.

*CRASH.*

His own front door shuddered under a terrible blow, then a second. Wood splintered, and something entered.

Faint, wet, slapping footsteps swept through his apartment, accompanied by a strange, ragged breathing that sounded like an infinitely long, pained exhale. The creature padded swiftly through the rooms. Things bumped and shattered. He heard his bed being violently overturned, then the kitchen table.

Then, the wet footsteps moved into the hallway. It stopped right outside his cupboard door.

He could hear its horrid, sighing breath—a sound almost pained, almost sad. Kim held his breath and waited. His heart was beating so violently he was certain it could be heard through the wood. *This is it,* he thought, *the end.*

But then, the creature turned and shifted back down the hall toward the shattered front entrance. After another undefinable stretch of time, true silence returned.

Kim allowed himself to breathe again, inhaling very slowly through his nose. Was it really gone? Or was it just waiting out there?

Slowly, Kim relaxed his painfully rigid muscles. As the adrenaline began to ebb, he suddenly became aware of a horrible, cramping pressure in his lower abdomen. He needed to pass gas. He needed to expel it more urgently than he ever had in his entire life—even more than the infamous incident at the 18th Supreme People’s Committee, where his explosive flatulence had almost cost him his life.

Kim carefully shifted his weight, balancing on one buttock. If he could just release the pressure, he could survive in this cupboard a little longer. He cautiously unclenched, controlling the muscles with absolute precision. The gas began to escape as a merciful, barely audible hiss.

Suddenly, something fell from a shelf in the kitchen.

The sudden noise startled Kim so badly that his muscles locked. He lost all control. The remaining gas tore free, transforming from a high-pitched squeak into a localized sonic boom—a thunderous, vibrating *BRRRRRP* that echoed magnificently off the cramped cupboard walls.

Kim could only scream as the wet, slapping sound of heavy feet instantly turned around and came racing back down the hallway, straight toward his door.