Meh: The Vanishing Hallway

Alan was walking down the school hallway, backpack half-zipped, earbuds blasting. Everything felt normal… until it didn’t.

The lights above flickered. One by one, they went out, each buzz echoing louder than the last. The hallway stretched longer than usual, lockers twisting, bending, almost like the walls were breathing.

“Bruh… nah, I’m not doing this,” Alan muttered, trying to turn back.

But the way behind him? Gone. Just… black.

Something scraped across the floor ahead. Slow. Metal on tile.

Alan froze. His phone buzzed with a notification:

“Don’t stop walking. Or it gets closer.”

Alan’s hand shook. He glanced up. The end of the hallway glowed faintly red, like an exit sign calling him forward. He took a step. Then another.

SCRAAAAAPE.

The sound followed.

He broke into a jog, backpack bouncing, heart pounding. The red glow grew sharper — almost there.

Then, right as he reached for the exit bar —

A hand shot from the darkness, slamming the door shut.

Alan spun. The hallway behind him was empty. Silent.

Then the lockers banged open all at once.

And something whispered his name.