The Room with No Corners

Title: The Room with No Corners

Writer: Said Adrees Sadat

I found the apartment by accident. I wasn't planning to move, but I had just lost my job and broken up with my girlfriend all in one week. I was walking around the city, tired and angry, when I saw the "For Rent" sign in a dusty window. The building looked old but quiet, and the rent was cheap.

The landlord was an old man with shaky hands and tired eyes. "You can rent it for half price," he said, "just don’t go into the basement. It’s just an old storage area, and the door doesn’t open properly."

I didn’t care. I was broke and needed a place fast. The apartment was small and smelled a bit strange, but it had everything I needed—one bedroom, a tiny kitchen, and a bathroom with rusty pipes. It was quiet, which I liked. I needed quiet.

The first few nights were fine, except for some scratching sounds in the walls. I thought maybe it was mice. I didn’t mind. I’d been through worse.

One night, I woke up at exactly 3:17 AM. I was sweating and breathing hard. I didn’t know why. Maybe it was a bad dream, but I couldn’t remember anything. I just felt nervous, like someone had been watching me. When I got up to drink some water, I noticed the basement door was open.

I was sure I had closed it. I remembered turning the lock.

I shut it again and went back to bed.

A few nights later, the same thing happened. Same time. Same feeling. Same open door.

I started to get scared, but I told myself it was just my imagination. Still, something didn’t feel right. On the seventh night, I decided to check it out. Maybe if I looked inside, I’d stop feeling so afraid.

I grabbed my phone, turned on the flashlight, and opened the basement door. It made a loud creaking noise. The air from below felt cold and heavy.

The stairs were narrow and dark. As I went down, the smell got worse—like metal and mold. I reached the bottom and saw something that made me freeze.

The room had no corners.

Not even curved ones. Just smooth, endless walls that didn’t meet at any angle. It was like the room had been melted. I tried to focus, but my eyes didn’t understand what they were seeing. It made me feel dizzy and sick.

Then I heard whispers.

Not from around me, but inside my head.

The whispers didn’t use words. They were emotions. Fear. Sadness. Hunger. Anger. I felt them all crashing into my mind.

I turned around, but the door was gone.

There was just more wall.

I screamed, but my voice sounded far away, like it was being pulled away from me.

Then a shape came out of the wall.

It looked like a person, but not really. It had no face—no eyes, no mouth. Its skin looked soft and smooth, like wax. Its head tilted as if it was trying to understand me.

I couldn’t move. I couldn’t think. It reached out and touched me. In that second, I felt something horrible.

My memories started disappearing.

My mother’s voice. My best friend’s face. My favorite songs. All gone.

Then, I woke up.

I was lying on the floor of my apartment. The basement door was closed. My phone was dead.

I thought it was just a dream. But every night since then, I’ve gone back to that room in my sleep. I keep seeing that shapeless thing. And I’m forgetting more and more.

Last night, I looked in the mirror, and my reflection didn’t blink.

I called the landlord. No answer.

I think I’m still in that room.

Maybe I never really left.