The thing about being a police officer is that it never really is as good as it’s made out to be. You hear about the chases and the standoffs, but those are few and far in between. I’d been in the force for years now, and never once had I been tasked with such a case. The day to day was mostly paperwork and strolling around town hoping to catch some unsuspecting person in the smallest misdemeanor. Not the thrilling life I wanted.

After a miserable morning filing loitering cases, I was already ready to the throw in the towel by midday. As I sat down with a bowl of lukewarm beetroot soup, I wondered if I could get away with calling in the rest of the day sick.

I was interrupted in my thoughts as a coworker sat down next to me. Looking up, I saw her face beaming with excitement. Oh boy, I thought to myself. I was never one for gossip, but now of all times it took so much willpower not to dump the rest of my soup over her head.

“You know that giant mansion in the construction area, the one that they refuse to take down?” she asked while shoving a piece of chicken in her face.

I’d passed it by on my way to work this morning. The mayor had contracted a company from a nearby city to gentrify some of the older areas of town. In truth, it was well-needed; some of the less well-kept areas had been deteriorating massively. I was surprised, though, that out of all the buildings to keep standing, the contractors had left the old mansion. The dilapidated structure stood tall amongst the flattened landscape like a shipwreck on a rocky coast. I’d seen someone in there this morning, so I assumed they would work on it soon.

I tried my hardest to avoid the inevitable headache from hearing her abnormally loud breathing. “Aren’t they taking it down now?” I asked, smiling to hide the strain in my voice.

She leaned in closer. “No, they say they can’t because it’s haunted,” she whispered as if she were keeping it secret from the rest of the empty room. I shook my head. “No way, that’s ridi…”

“It’s the perfect chance to get that exciting case you’ve always wanted,” she interrupted.

Perhaps that was why I requested the case from the chief, which was no simple task. He was the most skeptical of us all, and so when I asked him to file an official case, he simply snorted and shook his head.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into your head but you and I both know that’s complete bull,” he said, brow furrowed.

“I…I…there were definitely some vandals there earlier today. Who knows where they could go next?” I stammered. It was a complete lie, of course, but it was the first thing that I could come up with on the spot.

The chief raised his eyebrows at me, lips pursed. Following what seemed like an eternity of silence, he finally caved. “Fine, do whatever,” he said with a sigh, “but this case better not take more than a couple days unless you produce some real results.” The iciness of his tone sent a shiver down my back. I hurried out of the office, not waiting for him to change his mind.

I’d expected to leave the station invigorated by my new case, or at least somewhat excited to tackle it. Instead, the farther I walked, the more I felt my pulse quicken with anxiety. My breathing became labored, and I could feel my gloved hands going cold.

The town did nothing to calm me down. It should be busier out in the streets by now, I thought to myself. The imposing silence drew my attention to my surroundings. It was already late autumn, but you would never be able to tell; it was a cold day, but it didn’t smell cold, didn’t feel cold, didn’t seem cold.

Something just wasn’t quite right.

Before long, I passed through the now-unstaffed construction barrier into the razed neighborhood. The emptiness of the site was only emphasized by the thick, comatose fog, which seemed to reveal the landscape slowly like a receding tidal wave dragging former buildings into the depths of the sea. It was from that tidal wave that I got my first good look at the mansion.

The structure didn’t seem to emerge from the fog as much as it clawed its way into view. The once-graceful pinnacles on the roof speared upward like jagged shards of glass from a broken mirror. The wood paneling had long since succumbed to the hungry mouths of termites, the planks barely held together by rusty nails.

As I approached the house, I couldn’t shake the feeling that it’d once been a hub of activity, the life of the party. It was almost sad seeing the house in this state.

I was interrupted in my thoughts by movement in the corner of my eye. I looked around, trying to determine its source. I could’ve sworn it’d come from one of the windows of the house, which should be empty at this point. There weren’t any workers left at the construction office when I got here, so there’d be no reason for any to be here either.

Still, there were no more signs of movement wherever I looked. I shook my head and continued onward. This time, a short pulse of light caught my attention. It hadn’t been bright, but I thought I’d seen something, at least.

“Maybe there really are vandals here,” I whispered to myself, trying to calm my rapidly beating heart. “They’ll just give up when they see you, they’ll just give up when they see you…” I trailed off. It wasn’t helping.

Out of the corner of my eye, more movement. I suppressed a gasp, instead focusing my energy on finding its source.

This time, I found it. It was a ghost-white curtain, fluttering in some undetectable wind. Was that window open before?

I quickly shook my head. I probably just imagined it.

The old wood of the porch creaked under my feet as I stepped toward the door. My presence seemed to awaken the house, like it’d been waiting for me to come along. The porch seemed to pulse under me, like a rhythmic breathing. Unsettled, I hurried toward the door.

Without warning, the surface beneath my foot gave way, swallowing up my leg until I caught my balance. After quickly dusting myself off, I pulled my foot out of the hole. The weeds underneath the porch seemed to grab my foot as I raised it, pulling it back down. Panicking, I pulled myself up as hard as possible, stumbling back into the wall from the force. Despite feeling the weeds grasping at me all the way up, there was no trace of them when I finally broke free. Under any normal situation, I would’ve checked the hole to see what it was; in this moment, I was in no mood to be attacked again.

Quickly, I wrenched open the door and hurried inside.

The inside of the house was just as muggy as the outside had been, though now it came with the unmistakable scent of mildew. The building seemed to sigh as I entered, as if it were disappointed that it couldn’t catch me with its trap outside.

The door slowly swung closed behind me with a loud groan, straining to just hold itself together. I’d been unaware of how much time had passed since I arrived here, but the closing of the door plunged the already-gloomy interior into near-darkness.

I quickly grabbed my lighter from my pocket. I was no smoker, but in this job a little bit of fire had proven useful many a time. Taking a deep breath to calm myself, I struck the flame and looked around.

The flame cast a dim glow throughout the room, illuminating patches of wall with flickering light. Peeling sheets of wallpaper drooped from the walls, almost as if the house had given up on holding itself together.

Slowly, I gathered up my courage to confront whoever was in here. “Police, come out with your hands up!” I yelled into the darkness. No answer, of course. “I said come out!” I shouted, again in vain. I had no choice but to try to find wherever these mysterious criminals were hiding.

I was generally a silent walker, so hearing the floorboards creak in agony as I moved over them made me wince slightly with each step. I gingerly made my way into a long, dark corridor. Feeling unsettled by the hallway stretching out into what was an abyss as far as I was concerned, I quickly ducked into the first doorway on my left.

It was a small library. Looking around at the dusty shelves, I couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. Old books were piled up haphazardly around the room, as if the last person in here had been throwing all the books from the shelves onto the ground.

An old bureau stood at the far end of the room. It hadn’t aged well, judging by the unevenness in its legs. An old book lay open on its lacquered surface, flipped to a page that was no longer readable. I didn’t touch the book, partially because I didn’t want to disturb the crumbling furniture, but also because I didn’t really want to know what it was about.

I turned my attention to the bookshelves lining the room, not really knowing what to expect. Maybe I was going to find some secret door that led me into the perpetrator’s secret lair, and then it’d all be over, and I could leave. Oh, how nice that’d be.

I was slightly surprised when the flame from my lighter sputtered out. I quickly relit the fire and felt a wave of uneasiness and anxiety pass over me. I tried to shake myself out of it and continue searching.

Not finding anything, I turned back around. I could imagine that in its prime, this library would be a lovely place to kick back and enjoy a book. The seats were set up so that the light from the window could illuminate the pages of your book; when you weren’t feeling in the mood for reading, you could turn and take in the view of the forest outside.

I ran my fingers along the empty surface of the bureau as I left the room, gathering whatever minimal amount of dust was on the surface. That’s odd, I thought to myself, though I couldn’t quite make out why.

I quickly surveyed the room across the hallway, a spacious parlor. A group of tattered chairs surrounded what I assumed was once a small coffee table. The grotesque remains of a grand piano sat in front of the windows, a sad reminder of the past life of the mansion.

Clearly, there was no one hiding here. Rather, there was nowhere to hide.

Just as I was passing through to the next room, I heard a long, low creak above me. A spike of adrenaline brought me to my senses. I quickly looked around for a staircase.

Despite my tiptoeing, the floor complained with my every step. Just as I knew there was someone upstairs, they knew I was down here. Slowly, gingerly, I took each step of the staircase as silently as possible. It would be detrimental if the person knew I was coming up.

I was practically crawling by the time I reached the top of the stairs. Hastily, I shook out the flame of my light. The moonlight coming from the window was sufficient, plus I didn’t want to accidentally reveal my presence.

Seeing that the hallway I found myself in was empty, I cautiously stood up. My shadow joined the tall shadows cast by the trees just outside the window. I headed toward what looked like a reading nook at the end of the hall.

I edged closer to the windows, trying to…wait, trees? Wasn’t I supposed to be in the middle of…

I didn’t have time to finish my thought, because a shadow seemed to merge out of the darkness at the end of the hall. At first, I was too shocked to react normally; when I saw its glowing eyes open and turn toward me, I kicked myself into action.

I scrambled down the hallway to the staircase as the beast lunged toward me. I felt the rush of air behind me as its spindly, misshapen claws carved the air right beside my face. Without hesitation, I launched myself down the stairs, taking as many at a time as I dared without falling.

At the bottom of the stairs, just as I was swinging myself off the banister to propel me toward the door, I felt my foot make contact with nothing but air. I crashed to the ground, the floor beneath me bending so much that I thought I would fall through.

No time to think. I grabbed at the floorboard in front of me and half pulled, half launched myself toward the door. I felt the breath of the beast on my neck behind me as it too landed on the floor, though with a lightness and swiftness I thought impossible for something of its size.

I took off at full tilt down the hall, seeing the welcoming path to salvation in front of me. I could feel the beast coming closer and closer, contorted jaw snapping at the air just behind me. One swipe, two swipes, three swipes from its claws that I just barely dodged. I lunged for the doorknob, latching on with all my might. My heart was pounding in my chest as I turned the knob furiously. No give. The door was locked, the shaking of my hand trying the knob over and over to no avail. My mind was blank. It was no use. I turned around, hoping to catch one last glimpse of my pursuer before I inevitably died.

Behind me was an empty hallway.

Beyond that, blackness.

Abyss.

Nothing.

It’s said that some people, as they leave this world, suffer a fate much worse than death. Rather than passing on to the great beyond, they – by choice or by force – find themselves trapped in an abyssal dungeon. Prisoners of their own doing, they are caught in a space at the edge of the world, between the living and the deceased. Here, they are subject to the horrors of eternity, tantalizingly close to the bustling world of the living and tantalizingly close to the sweet release of death, forever. Long after the end of the world, and long after the end of time, they find themselves able, and only able, to answer to the call of the void.