THE FINAL REPORT

Camilo was alone. The office seemed even emptier at that early hour, with Bogotá draped in a thin layer of mist after the drizzle, and the distant sounds of the few vehicles still on the road. The cold ceiling lights illuminated the messy cubicles, the papers he no longer had the energy to organize, and the dark computer screens, all witnesses to his solitude.

He had stayed late at work, driven by a motive even he thought was absurd. The report he had promised to deliver was almost finished, but something inside him insisted he check one last detail, as if every figure on the screen demanded his attention despite the hour. Fatigue hadn’t quite overwhelmed him, but he felt a weight on his shoulders, slowly crushing his mind.

The silence wrapped around him, uncomfortable. It was a dense silence, as if the air itself awaited something. The sounds of keystrokes and the scraping of the mouse seemed deafening. Camilo glanced at the phone on his desk, as though staring at it might coax it to offer some sign of life.

A sudden noise pulled him out of his thoughts: a subtle metallic creak, impossible to ignore. He looked down the hallway. A chair was moving slowly, as if an invisible hand was pushing it. His eyes locked on it, his body tense for no apparent reason. The chair continued sliding across the floor until it stopped against the wall.

«Maybe it was the wind,» he thought, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.

Yet, there was no breeze. When he opened his eyes again, the chair was no longer there.

—It must be the fatigue. —He murmured, rubbing his eyes.

He tried to look away, but something held him there, as if an invisible force compelled him to keep watching. He could almost hear the wheels rolling across the floor again, though there was nothing there. His breathing grew more erratic. Suddenly, the fan turned on with a low hum, startling him. The artificial, cool air hit his face, chilling his skin.

Then another chair began to move. This time, it wasn’t a vibration; the wheels were turning loudly, as if someone had pushed it. There was no one in the hallway, yet the chair kept moving before him, as though wanting to be seen.

Camilo got up from his seat and shook his head to clear it. His leg muscles were tense, and his breathing had quickened. He looked around, his vision slightly blurry, as if exhaustion was playing tricks on his senses. He needed to clear his head, go outside for some fresh air, or simply leave, but deep down, he knew he wouldn’t; he was almost done with the report.

He walked toward the window, hoping that the nighttime view of Bogotá would calm him. He approached the water dispenser first and poured some into a paper cup before looking outside. In the glass reflection, he saw his own face, tired and hollow-eyed. But something else caught his eye: a human shadow twisted behind him, watching him intently.

He spun around quickly, but there was nothing there. Before he could take a step, the hum of the fan grew louder, accompanied by a blast of icy air. The light flickered, making him drop the water cup, and then a dark figure appeared on the ceiling, watching him as its head slowly twisted.

Camilo stood frozen, watching the form as it slid, contorting upon itself, its limbs bending at impossible angles. The figure crawled along the ceiling, its movements agonizing and twisted, its bones cracking and body arching in sinister shapes.

«This can’t be real,» he thought, closing his eyes tightly and reopening them, hoping the thing would disappear. «It’s just my mind… I’m tired… that must be it.»

But the shadow remained, staring back at him, slowly approaching.

The fan stopped abruptly, and the atmosphere grew even heavier. Camilo swallowed hard, but the sensation in his throat wouldn’t go away. The lights flickered once more, and in the next flash, the creature had vanished.

—My God… what was that… thing? —He whispered, his voice breaking, as if fear had gripped his throat.

Before he could react, the lights went out again, leaving him alone with the dim glow streaming in from the windows. He started hearing noises: clicking keys, the sound of chairs moving. When the lights came back on, the twisted shadow was right above him, its head turned down, empty eyes reflecting the flickering light, and a sinister smile dripping saliva, as if savoring him.

The air grew so thick that Camilo’s movements became slow and heavy. Though instinct screamed at him to run, his body seemed resigned, almost paralyzed by fear, as the creature’s whisper sent chills across his skin.

The creature twisted its body even more, keeping its gaze fixed on Camilo as he backed away, and one of its limbs stretched out in a grotesque curve, like the branch of a dead tree, until it grabbed his leg and pulled him back. Camilo couldn’t hold back the scream that erupted from his throat, but the sound was swallowed by the echo of the empty office.

That thing gripped him with brutal strength; he felt his leg go numb with pain. He tried to grab onto anything, his nails desperately scraping the carpet, as exhaustion and terror took over him.

Suddenly, the lights flickered one last time, and when the light returned, the creature had disappeared. There was nothing holding him, and the pain in his leg began to fade. His heart pounded, his body drenched in sweat, and his hands trembled. Everything seemed normal, as if nothing had happened.