The Hallway

I can’t stand being alone at home.

I live in a cozy house — the only large thing about it is the hallway, and at the end of it, the storage room. Usually, the cheerful chatter of my family fills me with calm. And it does.

Until the ticking of the clock drowns out their voices. They don’t notice it.

When that happens, I find myself staring down the hallway — toward the storage room that, for some reason, always seems darker. Denser.

The loneliness and dim light of those dull early-year afternoons always bring my deepest fears and traumas to the surface. I’ve always thought it was simply because I can’t bear being alone… but this time, it wasn’t just that.

It was an ordinary afternoon. Once again, I was home alone.

At first, I stayed in my room, but the silence — and the ticking of the old clock in the patio — made the air feel heavier, tighter.

So I decided to go to the study and play on the computer for a while. I thought it would help time pass faster. That someone would come home soon. But no one did.

The hours went by. The more I played, the stronger the urge grew to look behind me — right toward the place I’ve always feared. I could feel something calling me. But I resisted. I didn’t look. Not yet.

Evening fell completely. I had forgotten to turn on the lights, and the house sank into darkness. I could barely see anymore.

And then, when night finally settled in, the unthinkable happened.

To my left, there’s a small room we use as storage. It’s full of old junk, always half in shadow. Many times I’ve felt curious to look inside.

This time, I did.

And I regret it.

When I turned back to the computer, I heard the old office chair begin to creak. I spun around immediately. It stopped.

Then, a split second later, the television turned on by itself.

I jumped out of the chair and ran to my bedroom, thinking that under my blankets I’d be safe.

But I wasn’t.

Darkness had swallowed the entire house. I couldn’t see a thing. The clock had stopped ticking. It was just me, the darkness… and whatever now lived in my home.

The blankets didn’t protect me.

A door slammed shut. And seconds later, mine did too.

I was locked in.

And this time, I’m not so sure I’m alone.