The darkness wasn’t just dark.
It had weight.
Brenda felt it pressing against her skin, thick and heavy, like she’d stepped into a room filled with wet smoke.
Then came the whispers.
Not words. Just sound.
Shapes shifted in the blackness. Watching.
Hassan’s voice cut through the void. “Brenda, if we die because of you, I’m haunting your entire bloodline.”
She groaned. “You didn’t stop me.”
“You didn’t give us time!”
Something brushed against Brenda’s arm.
She yelped and swung blindly.
Her hand connected with flesh.
“OW!”
The darkness suddenly blinked away.
The group found themselves standing in a grand hallway, lined with portraits.
Jeremiah rubbed his newly bruised arm. “Really, Brenda? First thing you do in a crisis is punch someone?”
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Brenda scowled. “I was aiming for a ghost!”
Hassan muttered, “That’s what they all say.”
They all turned, finally getting a proper look at the hallway.
It was long. Too long.
The walls were lined with paintings of people.
But not normal people.
Their faces were warped, stretched, as if they’d been painted while screaming.
Wachira, sipping his ever-present tea, pointed at one. “That one’s eyes moved.”
Brenda shuddered. “I hate that you said that.”
Hassan folded his arms. “Okay. So, what’s our game plan?”
The Mayor’s voice echoed from behind. “Oh, I’m enjoying this.”
Jeremiah turned sharply. “You are NOT helping.”
The Mayor beamed. “That’s because I don’t need to! You’re already playing.”
Hassan sighed. “If you say we’re in a game one more time—”
The portrait beside him suddenly shifted.
A voice slithered from within.
“Would you like to be painted?”
Hassan jumped back. “NOPE.”
Brenda clenched her fists. “Okay. No one panic.”
Jeremiah gestured at the moving paintings. “BIT LATE FOR THAT.”
Then, without warning, every painting grinned.
Brenda swore. “Okay, now we panic.”
---
The hallway suddenly tilted.
Not physically—but reality bent.
One second, they were standing on solid ground.
The next, they were falling.
Brenda tried to scream—but sound didn’t exist.
It was like they were plummeting through a place where physics took breaks whenever it felt like it.
Then, as suddenly as it started, it stopped.
The group landed hard on something soft.
Hassan groaned. “I swear to God, if this is another void—”
He opened his eyes.
Then immediately closed them again.
“Yep. I’m done.”
Brenda forced herself up. “What? What is it?”
She followed Hassan’s gaze.
They had landed on a massive pile of mattresses.
But the room wasn’t right.
It was a nursery.
Soft lighting. Gentle music. Huge rocking chairs.
And, in the corner, an enormous crib.
Inside, something breathed.
Jeremiah stared. “Why is that crib… big enough for an adult?”
Then, the thing inside moved.
A deep, guttural voice rumbled from the shadows.
“You’re not my babysitter.”
Brenda grabbed Hassan’s arm. “We. Are. Leaving.”
The crib creaked.
A massive hand reached over the side.
Jeremiah didn’t wait to see the rest. “RUN.”
The group scrambled for the door.
Brenda yanked it open, and they piled through—
—Only to find themselves right back in the hallway.
The Mayor clapped from the shadows. “Oh, fantastic. You’ve looped.”
Jeremiah, breathless, turned to him. “What do you mean we LOOPED?!”
The Mayor’s grin widened. “Welcome to Level Two.”
Brenda swore loudly.
Hassan slumped against the wall. “I miss the bus.”
End of Chapter 9
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