Dark Whispers

Ding—

The cold electronic chime echoed through the silent mall. Jamie and Sandra stood before the elevator, their eyes fixed on the eerie void within.

The digital floor display flickered strangely: "17...18...?"

But the mall only had seventeen floors.

The elevator doors slowly slid open, revealing an empty interior. Yet, something unseen lurked in the shadows. A chilling air seeped out, brushing against their skin like an invisible warning.

The silence was deafening. Jamie instinctively held her breath.

"If you have a better idea, now's the time to say it," Sandra murmured, her voice taut with barely concealed tension.

Jamie took a deep breath and stepped inside. "We need to find out the truth."

Sandra hesitated, then followed.

Ding—

The elevator doors closed with an unsettling finality. The floor indicator flickered, then abruptly went dark.

—And so did the lights inside the elevator.

"Damn it," Sandra muttered, her fingers subtly reaching for the tool pouch at her waist.

Jamie said nothing. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness as she strained to listen.

In the oppressive silence, faint footsteps echoed from outside.

Not just one set.

More than one person was moving in the hallway beyond, the sound dragging unnaturally against the tiled floor.

"The elevator is going up," Sandra whispered.

Jamie felt it, too.

They hadn't pressed any buttons, yet the elevator was ascending, creeping upward with an agonizing slowness, as if passing through something unspeakable.

Ding—

The floor indicator suddenly flickered back to life.

The number displayed: 18.

The doors slid open.

A bizarre corridor stretched before them.

It looked nothing like the sleek, modern floors below. Instead, it resembled an abandoned hallway from a bygone era. The walls were cracked and discolored, old-fashioned sconces casting flickering pools of dim yellow light, trembling as if on the verge of going out.

A faded red carpet covered the floor, stained with dark, ominous patches, as though something had soaked into its fibers long ago.

The air was thick with the scent of damp decay—and beneath it, the faint, unmistakable tang of blood.

Sandra's grip tightened around her tool pouch. "We should move quickly."

Jamie nodded and stepped out.

Just as she did, her peripheral vision caught something—a glimpse in the elevator's side mirror.

A figure stood there.

A woman in a red dress, her tangled hair veiling her face. Her pale fingers slowly lifted, waving ever so slightly—as if welcoming them.

Jamie's breath hitched. Forcing herself not to react, she turned away and continued down the corridor.

Sandra had seen it too, but she said nothing, merely keeping pace, scanning their surroundings with sharp vigilance.

At the end of the hallway stood a deep red door, an aged, yellowed seal plastered across it, marked with barely legible black characters.

Jamie reached out, brushing away the dust. The faded words became clear:

"No Entry After Midnight."

They exchanged glances.

"Do we go in?" Sandra whispered.

Jamie hesitated, then parted her lips to answer—

BANG! BANG! BANG!

The door shook violently as something pounded against it from the other side.

Both of them took an instinctive step back. Sandra's hand slipped inside her pouch, fingers brushing against a concealed blade. Jamie, heart pounding, kept her eyes locked on the door.

"...Help... me..."

A woman's weak voice pleaded from beyond the barrier.

Jamie and Sandra exchanged another look.

Could someone be alive on this "18th floor"?

Taking a deep breath, Jamie reached out and cautiously turned the doorknob.

The door... swung open effortlessly.

Click—

Beyond the threshold was an utterly barren room.

Blackened walls loomed over a floor marred by splattered stains. A single, tattered wheelchair sat abandoned at the center.

But—there was no one inside.

Jamie felt an icy shudder crawl down her spine.

Then whose voice had they just heard?

Sandra's brows knitted together. "We—"

Before she could finish, faint but distinct footsteps echoed from the elevator direction, accompanied by a soft, unsettling creaking sound.

Both women spun around.

The elevator doors had closed.

And the woman in the red dress—was gone.

But something else had appeared.

Under the dim, flickering light, a tall man in a black suit stood at the far end of the corridor.

His complexion was unnaturally pale, lips curved into a ghostly smirk.

Slowly, he raised a finger to his lips.

"Shhh—"

Then, with a final, resounding slam, the door behind them shut tight.

—To be continued—