The building sat in the middle of town, a hulking mass of decaying brick and rotting wood. It was easy to ignore, as if the town itself wanted to forget it was even there. Despite its eerie presence, no one spoke of it. It wasn't abandoned—at least not legally—but no one had been inside for years. There were stories, of course. Rumors. But none of them were true. Or, at least, that's what the adults said. But the kids? They weren't so sure.
"Let's go inside," Chloe said, looking at the others with a challenge in her eyes.
Max, her older brother, glanced at her, then at the others. The group had been standing in the street for nearly an hour, daring each other to step foot on the property. It wasn't a dare anyone had ever seriously thought about accepting.
"That place is just a building," Max said. His voice was steady, the kind of voice used to sound confident but unsure underneath. "Nothing's in there but dust and broken walls."
But Chloe, never one to back down, smirked. "Yeah, sure. Nothing but a bunch of abandoned rooms. Or maybe a few homeless people. Or maybe... demons."
The word hung in the air, as it always did when the building was mentioned. It made everyone uneasy, despite their best attempts to brush it off.
"Demons, huh?" Brandon, the quiet kid with the chipped glasses, asked from the edge of the group. He sounded more interested than afraid. "Come on, Chloe. You're just trying to scare us."
"Is it working?" Chloe replied, eyes glinting.
The group hesitated. A dare was a dare. Max had always been the one to walk away from things like this, but now, with Chloe pushing, he felt the pressure. His mind raced, a fight between reason and the pull of doing something reckless, something dangerous.
"Alright," he said, "I'll go in with you. But we're not staying long."
Chloe grinned. "Deal."
They crossed the street, stepping onto the cracked sidewalk that led toward the building. The air grew colder the closer they got, the wind picking up as if protesting their approach. The house—if you could even call it that—loomed above them, like a watchful giant that had seen too much.
When they stepped onto the rotting porch, the boards creaked beneath their feet. The door was cracked open, barely hanging on its hinges, as though inviting them inside. Max hesitated, a knot in his stomach twisting tighter by the second. He looked back at the others, who were still standing at the edge of the yard, too afraid to follow.
"You sure about this?" he asked Chloe.
She didn't answer. Instead, she walked forward, pushing the door open just enough to squeeze through. The others followed, one by one, until the group was inside.
The building smelled old—musty, like wet paper and forgotten memories. The walls were cracked, peeling paint hanging from them like dead skin. The air inside was thick, almost suffocating, but it wasn't just the dust that made it feel that way. There was something else. Something... heavier.
Max's heart raced in his chest, but he told himself it was nothing. Just nerves. The others seemed unaffected, moving through the house as if it was just another old place to explore.
"See, it's just a building," Brandon said, kicking at a pile of debris. He bent down, examining something under a broken chair.
"Yeah," Max muttered, eyes darting across the dim room, "just a building."
But the silence was starting to get to him. It was too quiet. The kind of silence that made your ears ring, like something was waiting, watching. He could hear the faint scrape of something—was it the wind?—but it was hard to tell.
Chloe had already moved ahead, disappearing into the hallway. Max followed, feeling an almost primal urge to stay close to her. She was always the one pushing forward, dragging everyone into situations like this, and he always followed.
A floorboard groaned loudly under his feet as he entered the dark hallway, the smell of decay stronger here. He could feel the cold creeping up his spine, making his fingers twitch. Something wasn't right. He couldn't explain it.
"Chloe," he called out softly. His voice barely echoed, swallowed up by the thick air. "Where are you?"
No answer.
He stepped forward, into the darkness, swallowing his rising panic. His flashlight flickered, its beam weak in the overwhelming gloom. He swung it around, casting pale light on the walls, the old paintings and peeling wallpaper, but it didn't help.
The others were still behind him, scattered throughout the house, but there was no sound anymore. Not even the creak of the house settling.
Suddenly, the floor beneath him shook, a low rumble vibrating through the boards. It felt like the house itself was alive. Max froze, heart slamming in his chest. He wasn't sure what to do.
The rumbling stopped as suddenly as it had started. Max felt the silence return, thick and suffocating.
"Chloe!" he shouted, but this time his voice cracked, desperation slipping in.
Footsteps. Slow, deliberate, like someone—or something—was walking in the room behind him. He turned quickly, expecting to see Chloe, but the hallway was empty.
Then, from the corner of his eye, he saw something move.
A shadow.
It darted across the room, vanishing as quickly as it appeared, but Max saw it. It was there.
He turned back, but the hallway stretched farther now, as if it had grown longer in the few seconds his eyes had been away. The walls seemed to close in around him, the air getting heavier, like it was suffocating him. He could feel something—something watching—just beyond the edge of his vision.
Another creak, this one much louder, and then a figure appeared in front of him. It was Chloe, standing still, staring at him. Her eyes were wide, pupils dilated, but her expression was blank, as if she wasn't really there.
Max took a step back, his heart pounding in his chest. "Chloe..."
She didn't move. Her body stood rigid, her hair hanging in front of her face, but her eyes—those eyes—were the same. Empty. Hollow. Not her eyes.
The door behind him slammed shut.
Max whipped around, panic rising in his throat. He could hear the others shouting, but their voices were muffled, distant. The walls seemed to distort, like the house itself was rejecting them.
Chloe's head jerked up, her eyes meeting his once again. Her lips moved. No sound.
But the air felt wrong. Cold. Heavy. Max didn't realize he was moving until his feet hit the stairs, his legs carrying him up without thinking. His pulse raced. His chest was tight. His breath came in sharp gasps.
There was no escape.
The doors were locked. The windows were barred. The house... it was trapping them.
Max's mind screamed at him to stop, but his feet carried him forward, up the stairs, where he saw the dark shapes moving, crawling out from the walls. They weren't human. They were something else. Something older, something wrong.
Chloe's voice filled his ears now, soft but insistent. "Max… it's too late. We never should've come…"
The room was empty. No one was there. No one except for Max.
And the shadows.
The last thing he saw was Chloe's face, her mouth wide open in a scream, but the sound wasn't hers.
The building had taken them.