Chapter 71 – "Don't Look Don't Speak."
Moon and Kai could feel it.
Not see. Not hear.
But feel—the way you sense a spider dangling just above your head in the dark.
It was there.
A presence.
Thin… impossibly thin—like a shadow wearing the shape of a person. A silhouette that didn't belong to the world they knew.
It stood somewhere behind them.
Not walking.
Not breathing.
Not… alive.
Yet the air bent around it. The dim streetlamps overhead flickered, as if afraid to shine too bright in its presence. And in that trembling light, its shadow slid forward—stretched unnaturally far across the cobblestone—growing longer and longer, until it almost touched their heels.
Moon's pulse thudded like a war drum, each beat echoing in his skull.
Kai's skin prickled, a crawling sensation like invisible fingers brushing along his spine. Every instinct screamed—Run. Now. Don't look back.
But they remembered the rules.
Rules carved into their minds like warnings from a place older than fear itself:
Don't turn around. Don't acknowledge it. Don't give it shape.
No matter how close it feels.
No matter how badly your body begs to look.
And so—they walked.
Slow. Measured. Each step deliberate, as though the wrong rhythm might shatter the fragile thread keeping them alive. The air felt heavier with every movement, as if they were dragging the entire street behind them.
The silence pressed on their eardrums. Even their breathing seemed too loud.
One slip—one laugh, one twitch, one glance—and the thing behind them would stop following.
And start acting.
Minutes passed. Or hours. Time had melted into fear.
Then—suddenly—the shadow behind them vanished.
Gone. Like it never existed.
Moon exhaled sharply.
"Finally… I think it's gone," he muttered, glancing at Kai.
Kai nodded quietly—but neither of them let their guard down.
They knew better.
All it would take was one sound,
one voice, and they might turn without meaning to.
Then
Moon heard it.
Not footsteps.
Not breathing.
A wet whisper.
So close it felt like someone's lips brushed the shell of his ear.
He froze—
Every muscle locking in place, his blood turning thick in his veins.
Instinct jerked at his neck, trying to make him look—
but something deeper, something older, screamed:
Don't.
He bit down on his breath.
His hands shot up, pressing over his mouth like he could physically stop himself from speaking… or screaming.
"What the hell are you doing?" he murmured into his palms, voice shaking.
The air thickened, like invisible fingers pressed against his skin.
His heart thundered in his ears, drowning out everything—until—
He saw her.
Just barely.
A smear of a shape in the corner of his vision.
Human… in the way a wax doll is human.
But her neck—
God, her neck.
It stretched and swayed, impossibly long, twice her torso's length, bending like wet rope in a pendulum arc.
Each swing came with a faint, wet crackle—cartilage bending past the point of pain.
Her head jerked unnaturally with each sway, yet her face—hidden just enough—tracked him.
Following him like a predator waiting for a blink.
And then—
Her voice.
"Moon…"
It was behind him.
No—inside his ear.
No—inside his head.
"Mooon… you saw it, didn't you?"
The voice wasn't just heard — it leaked into the air.
Every syllable stretched thin, warping, as if whispered through cold water and torn apart before reaching his ears.
"You tried to peek… forgetting the rule?"
Moon's eyes burned. Begging to turn toward her.
The urge wasn't natural — it was a pull.
Like something had slipped a fishhook deep into his skull and was reeling, slowly, with infinite patience.
His palms slicked with sweat. His breathing hitched.
The air itself felt too thick, too heavy, like the walls were pressing inward, trapping him in a shrinking coffin of darkness.
Then—movement.
A sudden, silent burst — closer than before.
The change in air pressure slammed into him first, pressing against his eardrums, before his brain could even register that something was right there.
Moon's whole body seized. His chest locked. He slammed his eyes shut so hard that pain shot down his temples.
Her voice was no longer sound.
It was inside him. Crawling through his thoughts like a centipede, brushing against the soft places in his mind.
"You're so warm, Moon. I bet you'd look beautiful if you just… looked back."
Something wet touched the edge of his jaw.
Cold, slick, unhurried.
It dragged itself upward, leaving behind a clammy trail that made his skin shrink away from his own bones.
And then—
A rush of wind.
Gone.
He dared to open his eyes.
Nothing.
No figure. No movement.
Just the faintest echo of a giggle — not in the air, but inside his skull, slowly fading like it was sinking deeper into the dark.
Moon's lips trembled against his own whisper.
"…Thank God I didn't look her in the eyes."
---
Kai felt it too.
Something breathing behind him — slow, deliberate.
Each inhale brushing his neck like the air itself had teeth.
It spoke without speaking.
A pressure, a presence, forcing its weight against the back of his head.
Kai's every muscle locked.
Eyes forward. Neck stiff. Feet like anchors.
He did not turn.
He knew — the moment he did, whatever was behind him would smile.
They kept moving.
But the sound of a second set of footsteps…
never stopped.
But now the air around them was changing—thicker, darker, louder.
Bone-cracking noises echoed somewhere nearby.
A scream.
A laugh.
A wet sound, like meat being chewed.
It was hell.
And then—
From the shadows… something burst into the light.
A woman.
No—something wearing the shape of a woman.
Her gown had once been white. Now it was bleached rot — tattered, water-stained, and stiff with old, brown-black crusts. A torn wedding veil fluttered around her head, its edges soaked with something that still dripped.
Her long, black hair hung like wet ropes, swaying in tangled clumps that clung to her pale skin. Not a single inch of her face was visible — just a curtain of greasy strands, shifting with her uneven breathing.
She ran at them.
Not like a human.
Like a broken marionette.
Joints snapping at wrong angles, each stride jerking her forward in bursts, as if yanked by invisible strings. Limbs too loose, neck too slack — but fast. Too fast.
Any sane person would have turned and fled.
But Moon and Kai…
They knew the rule.
They did not run.
They did not look.
Eyes down. Breathing steady. No reaction.
The woman reached them.
She stopped inches away.
And then—she laughed.
A shriek.
High and jagged at first — but then twisting mid-breath into a deep, gurgling growl. The sound bounced around them, as if the air itself was made of glass, reflecting it back from every direction.
The smell hit next.
It wasn't just rotting flesh.
It was wet rot — the scent of something left in standing water for weeks, skin melting from bone, fat liquefying into sludge. It coated their throats, invaded their lungs, made Moon's stomach seize so hard he thought he'd vomit right there.
And then she spoke.
"Have you seen my son…?"
Her voice was wrong.
Two voices layered together — one shrill and cracked with grief, the other low, like the slow grind of a coffin lid against stone.
"Tell me… tell me where he is…"
Her voice broke. The high tone sobbed, the low tone growled. Together, it was like listening to a mother cry at her child's grave while something dead spoke through her mouth.
Moon's grip on his own fingers tightened until the nails cut his palms.
Kai did not hesitate.
Slowly, without looking at her, he raised his hand…
And pointed in the opposite direction — exactly as the rule demanded.
For a moment, there was nothing.
Then—
A wet, sucking sound.
Like bare feet pulling free from mud.
One step.
Two.
Dragging away… into the dark.
But even as she left… the air still carried her whisper — almost tender now, almost loving:
But before she left—
A sound.
A dragging noise.
Slow. Wet. Relentless.
From behind the woman… something crawled into view.
A child.
Or what was left of one.
His eyes — gone — the sockets two black, oozing pits. A thin thread of fluid leaked from one, trailing down his cheek like a mockery of tears.
Half his body was missing. Skin torn away in jagged chunks, ribs exposed like white pickets in a ruined fence. His left leg was gone entirely — in its place, shredded muscle dangled loosely, swaying as he moved.
His intestines trailed behind him like a grotesque tail, glistening, squirming faintly… alive with things that shifted inside.
The left side of his skull was crushed open.
Not clean — smashed.
And from the wound, his brain seeped out in slow, quivering pulses, like thick jelly melting in the heat.
And yet—he grinned.
Not a childish grin.
Not innocent.
The kind of grin that told you he knew. That whatever he was now… it wasn't a boy anymore.
Moon's throat closed.
A sound escaped him — half gasp, half choke.
Bile burned the back of his tongue.
But then—Kai's hand clamped over his. Tight. Unyielding.
A subtle tug. A silent reminder.
Kai's finger pointed.
Back. Away. As the rule demanded.
The boy turned without a word.
His head tilted—just a fraction—like he was listening to something behind the walls. Then The boy dragged himself after her, leaving a slick trail of black-red behind him.
Into the shadows.
Gone.
But not forgotten.
Never forgotten.
Moon's hands trembled.
His chest hurt, as though something cold had seeped into his ribs and was holding them shut.
Kai's jaw was tight, his breath slow — forced.
They didn't speak.
Because now, they both knew.
This place…
It was a punishment.
A sentence.
A place you were sent when you'd already been judged guilty.
They couldn't remember what they did to deserve this.
But their souls knew they must've done something.
They kept walking.
Then—just as their breath began to steady—
A figure stepped out from a side alley.
A red-haired butcher.
Massive. Sweating. His white apron was stained a deep, layered red — not fresh, not old, just constant. The smell of copper clung to him like steam.
A rusted machete hung from his belt, the blade notched and scarred. Dried strings of flesh still clung to the handle.
His small, dead eyes scanned them. Slowly.
"Have you seen a woman in a wedding dress?" he asked.
His voice was flat. Devoid of curiosity. Just… hungry.
Moon didn't blink.
Didn't breathe.
He raised his arm and pointed — in the same direction they had sent her and the boy.
The butcher's lips twitched. Not a smile. Just a twitch.
He nodded once.
Then turned.
And walked away.
Whistling.
The sound was slow, deliberate — off-key.
It lingered long after he was gone.
---
Minutes passed.
And then—
From the very direction Moon had pointed… it began.
Screams.
Real. Human. Hopeless.
High at first, then breaking into jagged cries.
The sound of tearing.
Of something heavy hitting the ground.
Of bones cracking.
"Help! HELP ME!!"
The voice fractured under its own terror.
Moon and Kai didn't stop.
Didn't turn.
They just walked faster.
Eyes ahead.
Shoulders stiff.
Hearts broken.
Souls shaken.
---
> This place was built to tear you apart.
One scream at a time.
To be continued.