Therapy Bits

With a bang, the door locked!

The sound echoed through the narrow hallway like a gunshot, rattling the dust from the ceiling. Sarah spun around, clutching the dying flashlight in her hand. She hadn’t touched the knob—hadn’t even reached the door. But something had slammed it shut, sealing her in.

The beam of light flickered across the peeling wallpaper, its faded floral pattern writhing as though alive. A cold draft stirred, though there were no windows, only that door… and the stairway leading down into darkness.

Then came the whisper.

It wasn’t words at first, only the hiss of dry leaves. But as Sarah strained to hear, it grew clear: “Downstairs.”

She froze. The flashlight dimmed further, its battery coughing out its last breaths. Click-click. Off. Darkness swallowed her.

Something padded softly above, where there had been no floor a moment before. Then claws, dragging along the wood, deliberate and slow.

Sarah backed against the locked door, her breath quick and sharp. She wanted to scream but feared the thing would know exactly where she was.

The whisper returned, closer now—right by her ear.

“Downstairs… before it comes.”

And then, from the stairwell below, she saw it: a pale hand gripping the banister, nails black and cracked, pulling the rest of something not quite human into view.

The last thing Sarah heard before her flashlight sputtered back to life was the unmistakable sound of the door behind her unlocking… but not opening.

FOWC With Fandango — Lock – Facts, Fictions & Fantasies