Rain lashed against the grimy windows of the Last Chance Diner, the neon sign outside flickering erratically like a dying heartbeat.
Inside, Maya, a young journalist with eyes as sharp as obsidian, huddled in a corner booth, her trench coat plastered to her petite frame.
Across from her sat Ezra, a hulking ex-military man with a shaved head and a haunted look in his eyes.
A plate of untouched fries sat between them, testament to the tension crackling in the air.
"So, you really believe this story, Maya?" Ezra's voice was a low rumble.
Maya leaned forward, her voice barely a whisper. "The asylum fire... the disappearances... the old folks in Clover Creek raving about a 'red hallway'... it all points to something sinister, Ezra."
Ezra snorted. "Small towns and their tall tales, Maya. That's all this is."
The diner door creaked open, a gust of wind sending a shiver down Maya's spine. A frail figure, shrouded in a tattered cloak, shuffled in, her face obscured by shadows. She approached their booth, her movements jerky, unnatural.
"Lost... all lost..." the figure rasped, her voice a dry whisper. "The red hallway... it takes them all..."
Before Maya or Ezra could react, the figure collapsed, a single crimson stain blooming on her chest. In her hand, clutched tight, was a worn key with a crimson inscription: "Into the Red."
YOU ARE READING
Into the Red
HorrorRumors begin to swirl around after a small town fire breaks out in the town's only insane asylum. The fire itself was a mystery and when asked to comment the warden of the asylum refused. But after one night in a local diner a young journalist be...
