The Hollow Beneath

He moved into his new apartment — cheap, quiet, and strangely colder

than the others on the floor. On his first night, he noticed it — a faint hollow thud

beneath his steps, like something breathing under the floorboards. Days passed. The sound grew louder.

Restless curiosity won. At midnight, he pried up one of the old wooden

boards. Beneath it — a narrow opening. A ladder, disappearing into

darkness. His phone’s flashlight flickered as he climbed down, heart pounding in

his throat. The small room below was covered in scratch marks. Hundreds.

And in the corner stood a tall, dust-covered mirror. He lifted the light toward his reflection.