Into the Tunnel

What stood between Protag Onist and freedom was a tunnel. One, singular, lonesome tunnel. Once he got through it, he would easily be able to make it home. What was the problem then?

The problem was that this tunnel was known as the most haunted spot in the nation, featuring in every occult magazine imaginable. Such was its infamy that it earned a great number of nicknames: “The Tunnel to Hell,” “Death’s Shortcut,” “Idiot Grave,” and “Horror Camp” being some of them. It was said that most who ventured in never returned, becoming food for the horrors within. It was said that those who survived were never the same. It was said that the tunnel was infested with creatures beyond human imagination.

Why didn’t he simply take another route? Because there was none. The world behind him had ended already, replaced by a void. Further details were not really relevant.

“Phone has enough battery to use the flashlight app? Check. Creepy doll that’s supposed to protect me from the supernatural? Also check.” Those were the only two things he needed to cross the tunnel safely. Supposedly. There was no way his grandpa would lie to him about something like this… right?

He pointed his phone’s flashlight toward the tunnel, trying to pierce the darkness. The tunnel simply swallowed the light, revealing essentially nothing.

“Welp. Here goes nothing.” He gulped, starting his adventure with shaky steps.

It only took a few moments before he reached a point outside of the moonlight’s gaze. The heavy darkness engulfed him, threatening to suffocate him. Even with his light source, he was only able to see a meter or two ahead. Strangely enough, he hadn’t seen even a speck of blood yet. From what he had heard, there were supposed to be rivers of blood in the tunnel. In fact, the tunnel seemed to be extremely clean, to the point that it was actually creepier this way.

His footsteps echoed sharply, the only other sound being his breath. The longer he walked, however, the more audible another sound became: his heartbeat. With every step, the silence grew heavier, the lack of anything happening only serving as fuel for his anxiety.

Nothing was skittering in the shadows, nothing was making strange, almost imperceptible sounds, nothing was whispering in the air, and nothing was telling him that he was about to die using words written in blood. It was just him and the increasingly heavy darkness. It was so heavy now that it felt like it was physically pushing down on his right shoulder.

“…”

The sound of footsteps ceased as Protag slowly turned his neck, glancing at his shoulder. Too dark to see anything. His wrist rotated slightly, changing the direction of the flashlight. A bony hand was resting there, as if it belonged to a friend. He certainly did not have a friend who was all bones.

He needed to run, but his body refused to listen. Fight or flight, but his body chose to freeze. He was dead. He was so dead.

Wasn’t the doll supposed to protect him?

Mustering up all of his willpower, he managed to throw the doll at the thing behind him. It let out a shrill shriek and jumped back, letting go of him.

So it did work. Somewhat.

Pointing his phone at the thing, he finally managed to see what he was dealing with fully. It was one of those textbook horror creatures, with very pale skin over bones, mouth open in an ‘o’ shape, and empty eye sockets. Legends called it Hollowface. Supposedly, staring at its face for too long destroyed your mind. That’s probably why it only placed a hand on his shoulder instead of outright attacking; its method of attacking was forcing you to stare at it.

It was staring at the doll now on the ground. Speaking of which, the talisman wasn’t on the doll anymore. That couldn’t have been a coincidence.

His eyes scanned the ground, quickly locating the talisman beside his foot. Thank god it was nearby. Now all he needed to do was grab the doll and stick the talisman back on its head… which was easier said than done, with the doll being close to Hollowface.

Wait, if it couldn’t directly attack, he could just walk up to it. It was a gamble based on a guess, but he had no better ideas and needed to make his move before he lost his mind.

“Don’t mind me, Hollowface. Imma quickly grab this doll,” he announced, creeping toward it. With every step, he paused slightly to see whether Hollowface would react. It looked up at him but didn’t move. Once he got close enough, he lunged for the doll and slapped the talisman on its forehead.

“Ha! How’s that, Hollowface?” He held the doll up triumphantly at the being, or at least where it had been. Hollowface was no longer there.

Grandpa was right. He was going to be perfectly fine as long as he made sure the talisman didn’t fall off again.

A soft breeze drifted past him. The talisman fluttered in the air before gently landing on the asphalt.

The tunnel shook violently, knocking him onto his back. His phone and the doll flew from his grip. Lights he didn’t even know existed started flickering wildly.

Another sound joined the chaos: the rhythm of someone running. It was closing in fast. That could only mean one thing: Grandpathlete. The ghost of a grandpa who died before his race. He now sprints in this tunnel, testing your fitness. If he catches up, you die—or so they say.

Protag rushed after the talisman, which was now floating away due to a stronger breeze. He swiped at it, but missed. He tried to sandwich it between his palms, but missed again. Grandpathlete was now visible due to the flickering lights. He couldn’t afford to miss again, so he ran in front of it, blocking it with his body.

He took a quick peek behind him. Crap, Grandpathlete was almost here! Protag ran to the doll, heart beating out of his chest. He dove for it, the footsteps now thundering right behind him. His arm stretched to its limit, the talisman ready in his hand. It was right there; his hand was just about to touch it.

Grandpathlete was faster.

In one fell swoop, it grabbed the doll and continued running, leaving Protag behind.

It… it didn’t kill him. A sense of relief washed over him for a moment before the realization set in. He didn’t have the doll anymore. He may have still been alive, but he was as good as dead. The inhuman noises approaching him assured him of that.

Shit.