Daryl was on the floor.
He couldn't move - not even a little - and the moment he realized that, the pain hit him all at once, crashing through his body like a delayed explosion. Everything hurt. Everywhere. Blood pooled beneath him, warm at first and then uncomfortably cold, spreading out in a dark, sticky shape he didn't want to look at.
A giant iron rod was lodged straight through his chest. It was moderately thick and quite rusted, pinning him to the ground like some kind of grotesque display. Every breath of his burned like a growing and shallow flame, like his lungs were being scraped from the inside.
His phone lay nearby. Or more accurately, what was left of it - it was crushed.
The screen shattered into a spiderweb of glass, flickering weakly before dying completely. The camera was gone - ripped clean off or smashed beyond recognition.
His left leg was twisted at an angle impossible under normal circumstances, a massive boulder resting on top of it like a final insult. He didn't need to look to know the bone underneath was completely destroyed. He could feel it - or rather, he could feel where it was not.
He tried to scream, but nothing came out.
His mouth opened and his throat strained, but only air escaped, hot, useless air. His vision blurred at the edges with dark spots bleeding inward.
"…How," he thought dimly.
How did it get this bad?
Just hours ago, he'd been joking with chat, reading stupid comments while simultaneously chasing rent money like his life depended on it - which, he realized now, it kind of did. He wanted to laugh at the irony, at how ridiculous it all was.
But he couldn't.
His fingers twitched weakly. They were numb and cold, like they didn't belong to him anymore.
Then the light disappeared.
A shadow fell over him - it was huge, unnatural, swallowing everything as it blocked out what little vision he had left. The air grew heavy, pressing down on his chest harder than the iron rod already did.
Something moved - or rather, something was being moved.
Daryl's eyes widened, from both the physical pain it caused and the realization of what was about to come.
And for just a brief moment, fear vanished completely.
There was no strength left to panic with and even worse - no hope left to cling to. Just exhaustion, pure exhaustion.
"…So this is it," he thought.
His eyes relaxed and he stopped resisting.
The shadow leaned closer.
And Daryl accepted it - his fate.
---
Two hours earlier.
There was a sound.
Daryl froze instantly, his body reacting before his brain could catch up as he spun around and raised his flashlight, the beam slicing through the darkness in a wide, frantic arc. Something small darted across the floor and vanished into a crack along the wall.
"…Rat," he said after a second, forcing out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
The chat exploded immediately.
[JenniferLawrenceNo1Fan]: BRO JUMPED FOR A RAT
[SheikhSamikhadira - PaidComment - ¥50]: ghost rat confirmed
"Shut up," Daryl muttered, rubbing his face. "You'd jump too."
He straightened, steadied himself.
"Okay," he said. "Still alive."
He stepped forward, and the hallway stretched out endlessly ahead of him, the paint peeling from the walls in long, curling strips. Old posters clung stubbornly to the surface and their colors faded, and faces barely recognizable. They seemed to be from plays, shows, dates from years ago, maybe decades even.
"This place used to be a theater," Daryl said quietly. "Probably abandoned after the hauntings started."
The whisper coin buzzed lightly.
Daryl stopped dead.
"…That's new," he murmured.
The coin vibrated again. While not violent, it was steady enough to make his stomach tighten.
"Something's nearby."
The chat slowed in the unprofitable ranting to focus on the anticipated encounter.
[MoonPetal ⭐]: Be careful. Please don't rush.
"I won't," Daryl said, even though his hand trembled slightly.
He reached into his pouch, took out a pinch of salt, and sprinkled it onto the floor in a thin, uneven line.
"If something crosses this," he explained, "I'll know."
He moved again, slower this time, his footsteps echoing far too loudly for his liking.
"Okay," he whispered. "Slow."
The whisper coin went silent.
Daryl frowned.
"…That's worse."
The lights flickered once, then twice.
Then darkness swallowed everything again. As expected, the chat erupted.
[TheFool88]: HELL NAH...DID Y'ALL SEE THAT
[IAMPRESLEY - PaidComment - ¥100]: bro get out
"I'm fine," Daryl said quickly. "It's just old wiring or something."
However, to his disappointment, something creaked above him - footsteps that were clearly not his.
He tilted his head up as he looked to identify where exactly it was coming from.
"…Hello?" he called.
But there was no answer.
He opened his small backpack as he peeled a binding talisman from it and pressed it to his palm.
"Just in case."
Turning the corner, the hallway opened into the main hall - rows of broken seats, splintered wood, and a stage looming ahead like a waiting mouth.
"This is the main hall," Daryl said.
The whisper coin buzzed again. It was much more frenzied than before. Daryl felt a chill that signified something had crossed the powder he laid beforehand.
"Okay," he muttered. "Definitely here."
The air turned cold, and his breath fogged visibly as a soft sound drifted through the space. He noticed it was slow and rhythmic, like breathing.
The chat went wild.
[ThisIsNotAnAltAccount]: THAT BREATH... GUYS I'M SURE I'M NOT THE ONLY ONE HEARING BREATHING, RIGHT?
Daryl raised the flashlight, sweeping it across the seats.
He spotted something move, then stop before disappearing as he was just about to make sense of what it was.
"Don't panic," he whispered to himself.
He stepped into the aisle, causing the floorboards to creek.
A chorus of whispers followed. They were unclear, layered over one another.
Daryl, in instinct, tossed salt ahead, but nothing happened.
"…Good."
As he moved closer to the stage, the whisper coin vibrated violently to the point of burning hot in his palm.
"Right there."
He pulled out the iron spirit nail.
"Stay back," he said, hoping to catch the attention of the ghost.
At first, there was silence, but in the next moment, hysterical laughter filled the air around him as though they were mocking him.
"That's not funny," Daryl said.
He slapped the binding talisman into the air, but it stuck to nothing before burning away.
"…Crap."
The whisper coin continued to vibrate frantically. It was akin to a grown woman's scream.
Daryl felt goosebumps on his back and immediately turned. That was when he saw it.
A thin incorporeal figure with a tall, blurry outline, sliding between the seats like smoke pretending to be human.
"There!" he shouted.
The ghost moved fast, faster than Daryl could keep up with.
So he ran.
We had learned his lesson from last time. This time around, the clothes he wore were very light to encourage movement. In order not to have an incident like last time, he wore shorts instead of long jeans.
He chased it into darkness, past torn curtains and hanging fabric, his flashlight flickering uselessly as the whisper coin burned hotter and hotter in his shorts.
"…Backstage," he breathed.
"This is it."
The light flickered on. And then a massive spotlight was slammed at him.
The blinding white light left a burning sensation on his skin as the heat threatened to crush him flat.
Daryl gasped as he covered his eyes from the blinding ray, and the screen of his phone shook violently as the stream messages poured in.
At that moment, the ghost vanished, but the light still remained.
And then -