Passageway

Somehow it looms while suspended high above me, yet I am crushed by the enclosing walls. The ceiling of the passageway is black as night, an endless void above my head, both vertically limitless to the eye and confined horizontally by the walls which hold it.

Does the ebony blanket above protect me from the hidden demons which live in the attic, or does it instead creep ever closer toward me, until I find myself squashed beneath it? Is it weightless or leaden? The fear which it instilled in me as a child still lingers.

The dark ceiling of the passageway outside my bedroom always obscured something unseen by the naked eye. When I was young, I watched the shadows swimming across the plaster, swelling behind the light shade, dripping from the cornices, cracking the paint. That was the closest I ever got to seeing the thing that lived in the ceiling. Revisiting it now, I wonder if the entity didn’t live in the passageway, but instead is the narrow space itself. The presence is tangible.

As I walk across the creaking floorboards, the air is thick and damp on my skin, and I feel resistance like I am walking through water. In the enclosed space, the ambient temperature rises. Despite the still air, I feel breath on the back of my neck.

I know it has to be a draught in the house, but as a child I was convinced that the moment I entered the passageway, something would walk step-by-step behind me, breathing down my neck, waiting for me to turn around. I always ran on my tiptoes through the passageway to escape it before it could grab me.

Even now, I hesitate on the precipice of the tight hallway, sensing my impending doom if I cross the forbidden threshold. The malicious presence coming from the space hasn't changed; it holds the same threatening energy. It is like revisiting an old school bully. My heart hammers loudly in my ears, but I can hear the whispers floating through the air. The whispers are sharp, a hissing sound that rattles my nerves.

“Candice, did you hear us?” The crackled voice comes from a walkie talkie at my hip.

I press down the red button. “S-sorry, what did you say?”

“We are picking up major temperature changes in the target zone. Camera activity is normal.”

“It’s - it’s here. I can hear it.”

A moment passes with the device silent in my shaking hand.

“Okay, we are picking something up and we are recording. Try speaking to it.”

My mouth turns dry as I try to swallow the lump in my throat. “Hello?”

“A little louder please, Candice.”

I try again. “Hello? I don’t know if you can hear me, but I know you’re there. It’s me. It’s … me. I, uh, we aren’t here to hurt you, only communicate with you.”

The hisses withdraw and I am met with a quiet hatred oozing from the passageway. The air is caught in my mouth and my lungs can’t seem to drag in my next breath. My eyes are wide as I stare up at the ceiling, watching the shadows.

“He-hello?”

A floorboard creaks, but I didn’t move a muscle. The hairs on the back of my neck rise as I feel a hot breath soak into my skin.

Fear grips me, paralysing me.

“We have activity. Keep talking, Candice.”

“Hhhh... hhhh…hel-lo. Hel - hel - hel-”

Tears spill from my eyes as I remain trapped and terrified in the middle of the passageway.

“Goodbye.” The voice in my head is loud, deafening, dreadful.

For the first and only time in my life, I see it. The embodiment of horror, magnificence.

The shouting from the walkie talkie becomes static as it moves closer to me.

An entity lives in the passageway, collecting souls of those who walk through it. My fate was sealed a long time ago.