A Life Is Loading

Darkness.

That was the first thing Clay noticed when he opened his eyes. It wasn't just the absence of light—it was something deeper, something unnatural. A void that swallowed every sound, every movement, every breath. His body felt heavy, as though an invisible weight pressed down on him.

Then, he remembered.

Emily. Lily.

His heart pounded against his ribs as he forced himself to move. His fingers clawed at the cold, wooden floor beneath him, his muscles screaming in protest. Where were they? The last thing he remembered was being thrown back by that unholy force—Ben's voice, but not really Ben, whispering that it was too late.

Clay groaned, pushing himself up to his knees. His eyes darted around, adjusting to the dim surroundings. He was still in the house. But something was different. The air was heavier. The shadows were longer, stretching unnaturally along the walls.

And then—a sound.

A muffled sob.

His breath caught in his throat. Emily.

He turned toward the noise, his pulse racing. "Emily?" he called out, his voice hoarse.

No response.

The sobbing continued, echoing through the house like a ghostly melody. He staggered to his feet and followed the sound, his steps hesitant but determined. His bare feet brushed against something on the floor. Glass. Shattered pieces of the broken lightbulbs. He ignored them and pressed forward, reaching the hallway.

The sobbing was coming from the bedroom.

Clay swallowed the lump in his throat. His hand trembled as he reached for the doorknob.

It was ice-cold.

With a deep breath, he turned it and pushed the door open.

What he saw made his blood run cold.

Emily was sitting on the floor, her arms wrapped around Lily, rocking back and forth. Her eyes were red and swollen, her body trembling violently. Lily clung to her, silent, her face buried in her mother's chest.

But that wasn't what terrified Clay.

It was Ben.

Or rather, Ben's body.

He stood in the far corner of the room, facing the wall, his head tilted at an unnatural angle. His shadow stretched unnaturally, twitching like a living thing.

Clay's stomach turned. "Emily…"

She looked up, her expression hollow. "He won't stop staring," she whispered.

Clay's breath hitched. "What do you mean?"

She motioned toward the corner. "Ben. He's been standing there… but I can feel his eyes on me. Even though he's not moving."

Clay's fists clenched. He had to be strong. For Emily. For Lily. He took a cautious step forward. "Ben?"

No response.

Another step.

The shadows around Ben seemed to pulse. The air crackled with something unseen but powerful.

Clay hesitated. "Ben… if you can hear me, say something."

A long silence stretched between them.

Then, very slowly, Ben's head turned.

Clay's breath stopped.

Ben's lips curled into an unnatural grin. Not his son's grin. Something else. Something twisted.

Then, he spoke.

But it wasn't Ben's voice.

"She made the deal, Clay."

Clay's body went rigid. His heart pounded so hard it hurt.

Emily let out a strangled sob behind him. "No… please… I didn't mean to… I—"

"She made the deal," the voice repeated, dark and distorted. "And now it's time to finish it."

Clay shook his head. "No. No more. You've taken enough. You took my son. You will not take my wife or daughter."

Ben's body twitched, his head jerking unnaturally. "A debt must be paid."

The air turned colder. The room darkened even more, as though the walls themselves were closing in.

Clay gritted his teeth. "Then take me instead."

Emily gasped. "Clay, no!"

Clay didn't waver. He took another step forward, staring into the hollow abyss of Ben's stolen body. "You want a sacrifice? Then take me."

A slow, eerie laugh crawled from Ben's throat. "You don't understand, Clay. It was never about you."

A sudden, violent gust of wind blasted through the room, knocking Clay backward. He hit the floor hard, the breath ripped from his lungs.

And then—the screaming began.

Emily.

Lily.

Their cries filled the house, echoing through the walls. The shadows surged forward, swallowing everything. Clay tried to move, tried to reach for them, but his body was frozen, pinned by an unseen force.

Ben's twisted grin was the last thing he saw before the darkness consumed everything.

The world faded in and out. Where was he? A low humming sound surrounded him, growing louder with each passing second. It wasn't the sound of a machine—it was something more sinister. A chant.

Clay's eyes snapped open, and he found himself lying in a different room. A dimly lit, unfamiliar space. The walls were lined with strange symbols drawn in dark ink. In the center of the room, a single candle burned, casting flickering shadows along the walls.

In front of him stood a figure in black.

Not Ben. Not the unknown man.

Someone else.

The figure stepped forward, their face obscured by a hood. Their voice was deep, otherworldly.

"You seek answers, Clay."

Clay tried to speak, but his throat was dry. He swallowed hard, forcing the words out. "Who are you?"

The figure chuckled. "I am the one who granted the wish. The one she called upon."

Clay's blood ran cold. Emily.

He clenched his fists. "What did she do?"

The figure leaned in, whispering against his ear. "She traded one life… for another."

A sharp pain shot through Clay's chest. His mind reeled.

Emily made a deal. But with who? And why?

Before he could ask another question, the candle flickered violently, and in an instant—

The figure was gone.

Clay sat in silence, his heart racing, his mind spiraling.

Clay's breathing was ragged, his mind drowning in the weight of the revelation. Emily had made a deal. A life for a life.

But whose life had she bargained for?

His son was dead. His daughter was in danger. His wife held the answers, but at what cost?

The candle in the center of the room flickered again, casting long, twisted shadows along the walls. The air felt suffocating, thick with an unseen force pressing down on him.

Then—a whisper.

Low. Sinister. Familiar.

"Time is running out, Clay."

A gust of cold wind blew through the room, snuffing out the candle.

Darkness.

And in that consuming void, Clay realized one horrifying truth—

The night was not over.

The horror had just begun.

And somewhere, in the silence of the cursed night, a single phrase echoed once more—

"A life is still loading."