I wasn’t even supposed to be there. The basement is already the last level in the building, everybody knows that, but that morning the elevator just didn’t agree with me.
It was Wednesday. The office was half-dead and people don’t bother showing up midweek. I had gone in just to drop some files on my boss’s desk and maybe grab coffee from the machine downstairs. That thing tastes like burnt cardboard but it keeps you awake.
So I pressed “B” like I always do. Doors shut, light flickered like I was in a horror movie. I wasn't bothered as I was already used to seeing this. The elevator groaned like it hated its job, then started going down.
But it didn’t stop.
The panel blinked. B2.
I literally frowned at it. Not on the panel, not on the floor plans they always show during fire drills, nothing. Yet the elevator slowed down like it had every right to stop there.
The doors opened.
Hallway. Bare concrete walls, damp air that stuck in my throat, bulbs strung up like they were dying.
And the sound. Some kind of shuffle, like shoes dragging.
“Hello?” I said. Dumb thing to do but the silence made it worse.
That’s when I saw her. There was a woman standing the very end of the hall. Holding a shopping bag. She looked like she had just come from the grocery store. Except she was barefoot.
She didn’t move. Didn’t wave or say hi. Just... stood there.
The elevator doors closed behind me with a ding and I spun around. Too late. They were already gone.
“You’re late,” she said. Calm as anything.
“I think I got off on the wrong floor,” I managed. My throat was suddenly dry.
She tilted her head.
“Nobody gets off here by mistake.”
“What floor is this?”
Her lips curled into a half smile. It was creepy.
“Below the basement.”
I laughed, but it came out wrong, too thin. Fear caught me right after. Something flicked by behind her. But when I blinked, there was nothing but shadows.
Her bag rustled. She held it out a little. “Do you want to see?”
“Nah. I need to go back upstairs.”
"I see." she said, as she walked off, with her bare feet smacking against the concrete. I followed, because somehow being alone right then felt even worse.
The hall stretched on forever. Door after door, no numbers, no handles I could see. Some looked new. Others were rotting, falling apart like they’d been there longer than the building itself. Every now and then I heard something from behind one. A whisper maybe. Or a knock. The moment I paused to listen it would stop.
She stopped finally and put the bag down. “You’ll need this,” she said.
“What is it?” I asked.
No answer. She opened one of the doors and slipped inside. Gone.
I leaned downwards slightly and opened the bag. Photos. Dozens of them. All of me. At work, at home, even in places I don’t even remember going. Every photo had my shadow circled in red.
I dropped the bag instantly, in shock.
The hall felt like it was closing in on me. I backed up toward the elevator, but it was gone. Just plain concrete.
That's when I heard it. A low hum came from somewhere deep in the walls. The lights flickered harder, buzzing like bees that didn’t want me there.
And then the footsteps. Heavy. Slow. Getting closer.
I ran. No plan, just ran. Doors blurred past. I shoved one and it opened.
It was a small, empty room. Four walls, nothing else. I stepped in. The door slammed shut behind me and I jumped so hard my hands shook.
Dark. Pitch black.
I fumbled around in the darkness without a clear sense of direction.
The footsteps didn’t stop. They just circled the room like they were planning something.
My hands found the bag again, shaking. I had to do something about the photos.
I ripped them up, crumpled them all, though I’m not sure it even helped. The hum in the walls shot up, screaming in my ears, and for a second, the room tilted. Or maybe it was just me. Then silence. Total silence.
A narrow beam of light appeared, revealing a door. I shoved it open and tripped out.
I was back in the basement. The real basement. The elevator doors were normal, humming like nothing had happened.
No hallway. No woman. No photos. Just concrete and burnt coffee smell.