THE LURE

As Iris boarded the plane, she noticed the unusually quiet atmosphere, even for a red-eye flight. She settled into her window seat, pulling out her headphones to drown out the silence.

She drifted off to sleep, but a sudden announcement jolted her awake. The pilot’s calm voice instructed passengers to fasten their seatbelts as the plane prepared for takeoff. Sleepily, Iris tied her seatbelt and removed her headphones, gazing out of the window. A wave of happiness washed over her as she thought about the dream she was finally about to achieve.

The flight passed without incident, and soon, Iris found herself stepping into the cab she had booked earlier. The driver, a middle-aged man with a kind smile, glanced at her.

“Are you the one who booked this cab?” he asked.

Iris nodded and showed him her ID. As they began the journey, her phone buzzed with a message from her mom. Did you land safely? it read. Iris smiled and quickly typed back, letting her know she was on her way to her destination.

The cab came to an abrupt stop, startling her. “Why did you stop?” Iris asked the driver, leaning forward.

He pointed at the traffic light ahead. “It’s just the red light, ma’am.”

“Oh,” Iris said, embarrassed. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine,” the driver replied with a small chuckle.

As she leaned back in her seat, Iris’s eyes wandered toward the rearview mirror. Turning slightly, she caught sight of an old woman seated across the aisle on the plane in her memory—a woman she hadn’t thought much about until now. Dressed in faded black clothes, her hair wild and gray, the woman’s face had been lined with age and an almost menacing expression. Her piercing gaze had been locked on Iris, her lips curving into a hollow smile that sent chills down her spine.

Iris shook her head, dismissing the thought. But something about that memory lingered, like a shadow refusing to fade.

--At the Apartment

When the cab finally stopped in front of her destination, a strange unease settled over Iris. The building stood tall and dark, its silhouette casting an imposing shadow against the cloudy evening sky.

Dragging her suitcase behind her, she approached a small group of people near the building’s entrance: a man smoking a cigarette, a young couple chatting quietly, and an older woman holding a bag of groceries.

She forced a polite smile. “Hi, is this Ravenswood Apartments?”

The man stiffened slightly, avoiding her gaze. The couple exchanged uneasy glances before walking away without a word.

The older woman hesitated, her fingers tightening around her grocery bag. “I’m sorry,” she said softly, “I don’t know.”

Iris frowned. How could they not know? She double-checked the address on her phone to make sure she was in the right place.

Before she could ask anything further, a voice broke the silence.

“You’re looking for Ravenswood?”

Iris spun around, startled. A tall woman stood a few steps behind her, her sharp features illuminated faintly by a nearby streetlight. Her eyes were dark and piercing, eerily familiar, reminiscent of the old woman from the plane.

“Yes,” Iris replied cautiously. “Do you know where it is?”

The woman didn’t answer immediately. She simply lifted a hand and pointed toward the building. “There,” she said in a low voice.

“Thanks,” Iris mumbled, her unease growing. She turned to thank the woman again, but she was gone.

The building loomed ahead, its front door slightly ajar as if beckoning her inside. Iris hesitated, her fingers tightening around the handle of her suitcase. Taking a deep breath, she stepped forward, her heartbeat quickening with each step.

---

Who was that woman? And why did the shadows here feel alive?