James never believed the stories. A factory in the woods, abandoned for years, haunted by a crying woman. Ridiculous. He told himself that as he walked through the thick trees, his boots crunching on the dry leaves, the weight of the night pressing in.
The moon was hidden behind clouds, the world swallowed by darkness. He could barely make out the shape of the factory ahead, its broken windows like jagged teeth in the distance.
People in town said they'd heard her. Late at night, the soft sobbing, sometimes wailing, echoing through the trees. Some swore it was the ghost of a woman who had been trapped there, others thought it was just the wind.
But James wasn't the type to believe in ghost stories. He didn't care much for them. He didn't have time for them. So, he'd come to end the rumors. To prove they were all just made up.
The factory loomed before him, towering and silent. He paused at the entrance, the rusted metal door barely hanging on its hinges. A heavy silence pressed down. No wind. No animals. No life. Just the smell of decay, of rotting wood and rusting metal. His heart drummed in his chest, but he ignored it, stepping inside.
The door squealed when he pushed it open. He froze. His hand went cold on the handle. Something was wrong.
He took a deep breath and moved further in, the wooden floor creaking under his feet. The place felt like it had been abandoned forever. Faded posters on the walls, old machines rusted and half-collapsed. Time had done its work here. But it wasn't the decay that unsettled him. It was the quiet. The kind of quiet that seemed unnatural.
He heard the sobbing. Soft at first. Barely audible, like a whisper carried on the wind. Then louder. A raw, mournful sound, almost too clear to be real. His blood ran cold. He swallowed, his throat dry.
He wasn't ready for this. He had expected to find some prankster hiding out here. He had expected to find nothing. Not this.
The crying stopped. The silence returned, thick and suffocating. He couldn't see her. Couldn't hear her breathing, couldn't feel her presence in the air. But he knew she was there. He could feel it in his bones. Something was waiting.
James took another step, careful not to make any noise. The floor was old, brittle. Any wrong move could give him away. He moved cautiously, inching his way deeper into the building. The crying began again, louder this time, echoing through the vast emptiness. It sounded like it was coming from everywhere at once.
He froze. He couldn't tell where it was coming from, but it was close. Too close. He took a step back, his foot catching on a piece of metal. The sound was sharp, too sharp in the stillness. The crying stopped. For a moment, there was only silence. And then, there was a noise.
A shuffle. Faint. Almost imperceptible, but unmistakable.
James' breath caught. He hadn't heard anything like it in the whole building. It wasn't the wind. It wasn't an animal. He wasn't alone.
He felt her presence before he saw her. It wasn't like a shadow moving, or the sound of footsteps. It was something else. The air felt thick, like something was pressing in around him. He could hear her breathing now, low and steady, like she was listening for something.
Listening for him.
He froze again, heart racing. His muscles tensed. Sweat prickled along his skin. His mind screamed at him to move, to run. But he couldn't. The instinct to stay silent, to not make a sound, gripped him.
There was something about the way she moved. Slow, deliberate. He didn't see her, but he knew she was close. The way the air shifted, the way the floor creaked under her weight. Her hearing. She didn't need to see him.
His chest tightened. He had to be careful. He had to be so quiet. He took one slow step back, each movement measured. But his foot brushed against something. A small metal pipe. It rolled across the floor with a loud clang, echoing through the empty space.
The crying started again. But this time it was different. This time, it was sharp, high-pitched, like she was in pain. Like she was angry.
James didn't dare move. Didn't dare breathe. He waited, heart hammering. He heard her. She was close. Too close. And then, in the silence that followed, he heard the sound of something dragging across the floor. Slow. Measured. Purposeful. She was searching. Searching for the noise. Searching for him.
Her steps were uneven. Like she was stumbling, dragging something heavy behind her. The noise came closer, growing louder.
His mind screamed for him to move. To run. But his legs wouldn't respond. Every fiber of his being told him that he had to stay still. If he made even the slightest sound, she would find him. He wasn't sure if she could see, but he knew she could hear. And she was listening. Listening for every breath, every heartbeat, every creak of the floor. She knew he was here.
The dragging sound stopped. The crying started again, louder now, full of anguish, full of sorrow. James could feel it tearing at him, ripping through the silence, wrapping around him. He closed his eyes. Tried to shut it out. He couldn't.
The sobbing became frantic, like she was in pain, like she was desperate. It filled the space, bouncing off the walls. The room seemed to close in around him, the air growing thicker, heavier. His head swam. His pulse was pounding in his ears. He couldn't hear anything else. Just the sound of her crying.
And then the dragging started again. This time it was faster. Closer.
James' breath caught in his throat. He turned, moving away as quietly as he could. He didn't dare glance over his shoulder. He couldn't. But it didn't matter. He didn't need to see her. He knew she was there, and she knew he was there too.
He stumbled, his foot catching on something. The floor gave way beneath him. He fell hard, the pain shooting up his leg. His breath left him in a rush. He barely managed to catch himself before he slammed into the ground. The noise—loud. Too loud.
The crying stopped.
For a moment, there was nothing.
Then, the sound of her dragging something behind her. Closer. So close now.
James didn't have time to react. His body froze in terror, his muscles refusing to move. His heart hammered, and then—
A sharp, painful scream split the air.
It was him. He had screamed.
Her presence descended on him like a crushing weight. Cold fingers wrapped around his throat. She didn't speak. She didn't need to. The last thing James heard was the sound of his own heartbeat, deafening in his ears, before it stopped completely.