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Zena | Mystery

In the dimly lit corridor of the old school dorms, Zena's footsteps echoed eerily as she made her way back to her shared room with her best friend, Rama. The hallway felt unusually cold, sending shivers down her spine. Tonight was her birthday, and she had anticipated Rama's presence in their room, planning a small celebration. However, as Zena opened the door, the room was empty.

Confused and a bit disappointed, Zena hesitated before stepping inside. An unsettling feeling seemed to wrap around her as she closed the door behind her. The voices she'd heard before, faint whispers that seemed to emanate from the very walls themselves, returned with an eerie intensity. She had always brushed off the strange occurrences, but tonight they seemed louder, more insistent.

Zena's breath hitched in her throat as she turned her attention to the far wall. The paint seemed to pulse with an unnatural energy, and her heart raced as she took hesitant steps closer, the knife in her hand trembling slightly. The voices grew clearer, their words Indecipherable but their intent chillingly clear.

Just as she was about to turn away, a blood-curdling scream pierced the air, making her jump and nearly drop the knife. "H-Happy Birthday!" Rama's voice followed the scream, and Zena's fear gave way to a mixture of relief and confusion. There, on the small table, was a birthday cake adorned with flickering candles and a neatly wrapped gift.

Rama grinned, her eyes shining with excitement as she started singing a birthday song. But Zena's attention was drawn elsewhere. The low scratching against the wall continued, now coupled with an odd screeching noise from the other side of the room. Her unease lingered, and she couldn't shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong.

Unable to suppress her anxiety, Zena's hand clutched the knife tightly as she glanced towards Rama. "Do you hear that?" she whispered, her voice tremulous. Rama's smile faded, replaced by a concerned frown. "Zena, you've been stressing yourself out. There's nothing there."

Zena's heart sank, realizing that Rama couldn't hear the haunting sounds that seemed to resonate deep within the room. Reluctantly, she set the knife down and joined Rama at the table, her unease intensifying as they began to eat the cake. However, their brief respite was shattered by a sudden, screech that seemed to reverberate through the very walls.

Rama turned towards Zena, a mixture of annoyance and concern in her eyes. "I guess we're both hallucinating now, huh?" she quipped, attempting to lighten the mood. But Zena's fear was far from abated. The scratching noises on the walls grew more frenzied, almost as if something was trying to claw its way through from the other side.

As the night wore on, Zena and Rama's uneasy laughter dissolved into silence. Zena could hear faint whispers brushing against her ears, like the caress of a chilling wind. Objects in the room began to shift and topple with an unseen force. Shadows danced along the walls, their movements erratic and unsettling.

Zena's fingers gripped the edge of the table, her knuckles turning white. Her gaze was fixed on the wall opposite her, where the paint seemed to ripple as though concealing an unimaginable terror. She strained to make out the words of the whispered voices, catching fragments of phrases that sent icy tendrils of fear down her spine.

Hours passed, and the room plunged into an unsettling darkness, save for the faint glow of moonlight. Zena's body trembled as she felt an invisible presence encroaching on her personal space. The scratching noises crescendoed, the wall seemingly alive with a malevolent energy.

With a quivering voice, Zena finally turned to Rama, her eyes wide with terror. "Rama, we need to leave this room. Something is here, something... awful." But Rama's expression had changed, her once friendly features now twisted into an unnatural grin. "Zena, you really shouldn't have come back here," she whispered, her voice distorted and chilling.

A guttural moan echoed from the walls as Zena stumbled backward, her mind a whirlwind of horror. The room seemed to warp and distort, the air growing thicker with each passing second. Zena's heart raced as the walls seemed to close in on her, the whispers becoming a cacophony of nightmarish voices.

In a desperate bid for escape, Zena turned and sprinted towards the door, the room seemingly stretching and elongating as if to prolong her torment. She threw open the door and fled into the corridor, her breath coming in ragged gasps. But as she ran, she realized the corridor itself was shifting, its walls pulsating and contorting like a living nightmare.

Zena's screams reverberated through the corridors as the horror consumed her, the very fabric of reality warping around her in a maelstrom of terror. The scratching, the whispers, the screeching — they all merged into an agonizing symphony of dread that would haunt her for eternity.

And within the confines of the room, Rama's grin remained, a malevolent presence that fed on fear, thriving in the darkness that had engulfed Zena's soul.