In the stillness of the night, Evelyn stood at the threshold of the abandoned house. The air was damp, carrying the scent of forgotten memories. She hesitated, her hand brushing against the cold metal door handle. Everyone in the town whispered about this place—how shadows moved on their own and strange sounds echoed in the silence. Yet, Evelyn had to know the truth.
With a slow creak, she pushed the door open and stepped inside. The floorboards groaned beneath her feet, and dust hung heavy in the stale air. The house swallowed the light from her flashlight, leaving the corners of the room shrouded in impenetrable darkness.
Ahead of her was a door, slightly ajar. Beyond it, she could just make out the faint outline of a single chair, the only piece of furniture in what seemed to be a small, forgotten room.
The chair was old, made of dark wood, its legs slightly uneven, as though it had sat in that same spot for years, waiting for something—or someone. The beam from Evelyn’s flashlight flickered as she approached. She couldn’t explain it, but something about the chair felt wrong. It seemed misplaced, as though it had no right to be there, in the middle of the otherwise empty, lifeless room.
Evelyn felt a chill crawl up her spine. She wasn’t alone. But there was no one else here, no footsteps echoing hers, no rustle of fabric brushing against the walls. Just that chair in the middle of the dark room. She stepped closer, drawn to it in a way she couldn’t explain.
Her flashlight flickered again, and for a brief moment, the room plunged into total darkness. When the light returned, the chair was no longer empty.
A figure now sat there—a woman, draped in shadows, her face hidden in the dark. Evelyn’s heart pounded in her chest. She blinked, her mind struggling to catch up with her eyes. The figure remained still, silent, as though she had been there all along, waiting patiently.
Evelyn took a step back, but the door behind her slammed shut with a force that rattled the walls. Panic surged through her as she pointed the flashlight back to the chair, her hand trembling.
The woman’s head slowly lifted. Hollow eyes met Evelyn’s gaze, empty yet piercing, like staring into the void itself.
“Why did you come?” The voice was barely a whisper, but it echoed in the room as though the walls themselves were speaking.
Evelyn couldn’t move. Her feet were rooted to the spot. She tried to answer, but no sound came from her lips.
“You shouldn’t be here,” the figure said, rising from the chair. The wood creaked under the weight of her movement, the sound harsh in the quiet room.
Suddenly, the light flickered off again, plunging Evelyn into complete darkness. Her breath quickened as she fumbled to turn the flashlight back on. When the light finally returned, the chair was empty once more. But Evelyn could feel it—something was behind her.
She didn’t dare turn around.
A cold hand touched her shoulder.
And then, everything went black.
The touch on Evelyn’s shoulder was like ice, sending a shock through her entire body. She gasped, instinctively jerking away, but her feet tangled on the uneven floorboards. She fell forward, her flashlight clattering out of her grasp and rolling in lazy circles across the floor, casting erratic beams of light that danced across the walls.
The room was spinning. Her heart pounded in her ears, louder than the creaks and groans of the old house. She scrambled to her feet, her fingers brushing against the flashlight's handle. Gripping it tightly, she swept the light around the room, expecting to see the woman—or whatever that thing was—standing behind her.
But there was nothing. Only the empty chair, sitting there in the middle of the dark room as if nothing had changed.
Her breath came in ragged gasps as she backed toward the door, her hand groping for the handle. But the door wouldn’t budge, as if it were sealed shut. She threw her weight against it, panic rising in her throat, but it remained locked, trapping her inside with the terrible stillness.
A low, distant sound—a scraping, like fingernails dragging across wood—echoed through the room. The chair shifted, just slightly, creaking as if something unseen was still moving it. Evelyn shone her light directly at it, heart racing, eyes wide. The shadows in the room seemed to thicken, swirling lazily, almost alive.
She felt her pulse in her throat, her breath quick and shallow. The figure—whatever it was—hadn't gone. It was still here, in the room with her. It was watching.
The scraping sound grew louder, closer, as if coming from beneath the floorboards now. She stepped back from the chair, fear tightening its grip around her. She could feel something—something ancient and malevolent, something that did not belong in this world—stirring.
Suddenly, the chair began to move, slowly turning as if being dragged by invisible hands. Its legs scraped across the floor, leaving shallow grooves in the dusty wood. Evelyn’s throat tightened in horror as the chair swiveled to face her, and then—without warning—it tipped over, crashing to the ground with a deafening thud.
The noise seemed to wake the house. The walls trembled, dust falling from the ceiling in thin streams. The shadows thickened, twisting and contorting, and the faint outline of the woman’s figure began to materialize once more. But this time, it wasn’t just a shape—it was clearer, more defined.
The woman stood tall, her face now partially illuminated by the dim beam of Evelyn’s flashlight. Her hollow eyes, sunken and lifeless, were fixated on Evelyn. Her skin was pale, stretched taut over her sharp cheekbones. Her lips, cracked and bloodless, parted as though she was trying to speak, but no sound came out.
Then, in a voice that seemed to rise from the very depths of the house, the woman whispered, "Help me."
Evelyn froze, the words sending a chill through her bones. Her instincts screamed at her to run, but her legs wouldn’t obey. She watched in terror as the woman took a step forward, her feet hovering just above the ground, gliding silently toward her.
"Please..." the woman’s voice grew louder, more desperate. "Help me."
Evelyn stumbled backward, her back hitting the door. The woman’s hollow eyes never left hers, and as she drew closer, Evelyn could see something terrible—something dark—lurking just behind those empty sockets. A void, hungry and endless.
"What do you want?" Evelyn’s voice cracked, her throat dry with fear.
"Take my place," the woman whispered, her voice now a faint hiss. "Take it... or stay with me forever."
Evelyn shook her head violently, tears welling in her eyes. "No... I don’t understand! I can’t—"
Before she could finish, the room seemed to warp, the air growing impossibly heavy. The walls began to close in, the ceiling pressing down. The shadows on the floor slithered toward her like living things, wrapping around her ankles, pulling her toward the fallen chair.
She struggled, kicking and pulling at the shadows, but they tightened, their grip relentless. The chair rose slowly from the ground, now upright once more, facing her as if inviting her to sit.
The woman’s voice became a whisper in her ear, though her lips never moved. "You must choose... or it will choose for you."
Evelyn's heart hammered in her chest. She had no idea what the woman meant. Take her place? Was this a trick? A trap? She glanced at the chair, at its worn, ancient wood, and the cold air swirling around it.
"I don’t want this," Evelyn gasped, tears streaking her face. "I don’t want any of this!"
But the shadows continued to pull her, dragging her inch by inch toward the chair. She could feel their cold fingers creeping up her legs, their weight crushing her chest. The room grew darker, the walls receding into an endless void.
Just as the shadows began to pull her into the chair’s grasp, she made her choice. With a final, desperate effort, Evelyn thrust her hands forward, gripping the arms of the chair—and then the world around her exploded into light.
For a moment, everything was blinding. Then the light faded, and the shadows receded.
Evelyn found herself sitting in the chair, the dark room eerily silent. The woman was gone, the weight of her presence lifted. But something was different. She could feel it—something inside her had changed.
She looked down at her hands, now pale and thin, her skin stretched tight over her bones.
And then she understood.
The chair was hers now.
The dark room, her prison. Forever
