Jeremiah never believed in final moments. Not in the way people described them in movies—where the world slowed down and life flashed before your eyes in a neat little montage. Reality wasn’t that cinematic.

But standing here, choking on his own panic, he realized something:

Maybe movies had a point.

Because this?

This felt like a final moment.

The hallway was gone.

Not erased, not blocked—just gone. One second it was there, the next, it was an abyss, stretching into infinity.

And they were hanging—barely clinging to the wooden edge of a floor that shouldn’t exist.

Hassan was screaming.

Not words, just sheer, unfiltered terror.

Brenda was cussing so hard she invented new swear words.

Wachira?

Wachira was laughing.

Laughing.

Jeremiah would have judged him, but he was too busy trying not to die.

A cold wind rushed up from the void below them, carrying the familiar sound of whispers.

“One of you is not supposed to be here.”

“Oh, fantastic!” Hassan yelled. “NOW is the time for cryptic horror!?”

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Brenda gritted her teeth. “We need to climb up.”

“There’s no up!” Jeremiah snapped. The ceiling was gone too.

A black, empty space stretched above them, mirroring the abyss below.

That’s when they noticed.

The hallway?

It was floating.

Detached, weightless, drifting in slow circles like a toy lost in deep water.

“Oh,” Wachira said, grinning. “This is new.”

Brenda smacked him. “This is NOT the time for excitement!”

Before he could respond, the Mayor’s voice cut through the air.

“A test is not a test if you know the rules.”

They froze.

He was floating nearby.

Standing on nothing.

The town had taken them—all of them. But he? He just stood there. Calm. Smiling.

Brenda glared at him. “HELP US!”

The Mayor just shrugged. “I could.”

Silence.

Then—

CRACK.

The wooden beam Jeremiah clung to snapped.

He fell.

Brenda grabbed his arm.

Hassan grabbed Brenda.

Wachira grabbed Hassan.

Now they were one long human chain, dangling over nothingness.

Then the whispers came again.

Past mistakes are never forgotten.

The town always remembers.

A sudden gust of wind slammed into them. Brenda screamed.

Then—

The void twisted.

It wasn’t empty anymore.

It was a street.

A familiar one.

It was the same street where their bus had broken down.

But it was wrong.

Everything was burning.

Their bus was a charred skeleton, doors twisted open as if it had been ripped apart from the inside.

And worst of all?

There were people there.

Their own shadows.

Past versions of themselves.

Standing. Watching.

And—

Screaming.

A deafening, agonizing scream.

Brenda couldn’t breathe.

Hassan was shaking. “This isn’t real.”

Then the Mayor whispered, right next to them—though he hadn’t moved.

“Isn’t it?”

Brenda snapped.

She let go.

They all fell.

Straight into their past.

---

They hit the ground hard.

Jeremiah’s lungs burned.

Brenda coughed. Hassan groaned. Wachira sat up and grinned.

“That was exhilarating!”

Brenda slapped him again.

Then, silence.

The past versions of them were gone.

The street was intact again. No fire. No screams.

The town had changed back.

The Mayor?

Gone too.

Only the door remained.

The same one from before. The one that had told them—

One of you is lying.

They stared at it.

Then Brenda spoke, her voice hoarse. “What do we do?”

Jeremiah swallowed.

The town had almost killed them. It had thrown them into memories that shouldn’t exist.

And yet—

They were still here.

Which meant…

Hassan exhaled. “We go in.”

Brenda nodded. “We go in.”

Wachira grinned. “Finally.”

Jeremiah?

He didn’t say anything.

Because somewhere, in the back of his mind, a single thought was whispering.

What if we’re not supposed to?

He turned back one last time.

And for just a moment—

In the distance—

He swore he saw a shadow watching them.

But when he blinked—

It was gone.

Still, the feeling remained.

Like the town was waiting.

Waiting for them to step inside.

And then?

Well…

The town would decide what happened next.

End of Chapter 11

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