Meh: Gerald’s Warning
Alan was chilling by the vending machine after school, sipping on a Sprite. The halls were empty, too quiet for a Thursday. He noticed something odd: every clock in the hallway had stopped. 3:17 p.m. Exactly.
“Okay, bruh, that’s not normal,” Alan muttered.
Then — click. The vending machine lights flickered off. A shadow stretched across the floor, long and thin, crawling closer.
Alan backed up, but before he could bolt, someone stepped out of the corner.
It was Gerald. Hoodie up. Eyes wide.
“Alan,” Gerald hissed. “You need to leave. Now.”
Alan tried to laugh it off. “Pfft, what, the janitor about to chase me with a mop?”
Gerald didn’t smile. He leaned closer.
“It’s hunting. It knows you’re here. I barely got away last time.”
BANG. One of the lockers slammed open by itself. Papers fluttered out like feathers.
Alan’s throat went dry. “Bruh… what’s hunting?”
Gerald grabbed his arm, hard. “Don’t look behind you.”
Alan froze. He heard it: breathing. Wet, heavy breathing. Right at the back of his neck.
He swallowed. “Gerald… what happens if I look?”
Gerald’s grip tightened. His voice cracked.
“You won’t be Alan anymore.”
The lights above exploded, and the hallway went black.
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