Horrific Shorts: Zombie Edition

The corridor stretched endlessly, warping as if space itself refused to stay still. The whispering voices coiled around them, seeping into their skulls. The manor was alive. And it was hungry.

Mira clutched the cursed book tighter, feeling its pages twitch beneath her fingers. Zara's machete gleamed under the dim candlelight, and Elias checked his revolver, jaw clenched. The Forsaken Girl drifted ahead, her bare feet silent against the warped wooden floor.

Then, Draven screamed again.

It wasn't just a scream—it was distorted, layered, as if something else howled within him.

Zara quickened her pace. "We need to move—now."

The walls shuddered, and from the cracks, thin, blackened hands slithered out, their skeletal fingers reaching for them. Hungry. Trembling. Starving.

Elias fired. The gunshot ripped through the dark, but the hands didn't bleed. They kept coming, twisting unnaturally as they lunged.

"Move!" Mira shouted.

They bolted down the corridor. The shadows swirled, shifting the path before them. The hall curled like a serpent, doors appearing and vanishing. The house was toying with them.

Then, ahead—

A massive iron gate.

It loomed in the darkness, twisted with ancient symbols. Beyond it, the air was different—still, heavy, and pulsing with an unseen force. A threshold.

The Forsaken Girl stopped before it, her hollow eyes reflecting the eerie glow from the runes. "This is where he is," she whispered.

Mira stepped closer, heart pounding. "Draven?"

No answer.

Only the deep, ragged sound of something breathing.

Zara grabbed the gate. "Let's get this over with."

The moment she touched the metal, the manor roared.

The floor split open, revealing a pit of writhing corpses beneath them. Hands shot up, grabbing at their ankles, pulling, clawing.

Elias barely yanked Zara back before she was dragged in.

Mira thrust the cursed book forward. The pages flipped on their own, glowing with symbols she didn't recognize.

The gate shook.

The corpses screamed.

Then—

The gate exploded inward.

A shockwave of dark mist burst out, sending them all staggering. The pit below sealed shut, the screams cut off abruptly.

Silence.

Beyond the gate, the room waited.

Chains lined the walls, dripping with blackened blood. Symbols burned across the stone floor. And in the center—

Draven.

Or… what was left of him.

His body hung suspended, held aloft by something unseen. His eyes were open, but empty, his lips moving soundlessly. Dark tendrils wrapped around his limbs, burrowing into his skin like roots.

The Hollow Man's mark was on him.

Mira's breath hitched. "We're too late."

Draven's head snapped toward her. His mouth twisted into a smile—

And in a voice not his own, he whispered:

"You shouldn't have come."