The old apartment I used to live in had a strange layout. At the back, right beyond the unit bathroom, was an unseeming corridor that ended after six steps. During the day, it was a dead end, but at night, I had a hunch it would stretch on.

Urged by the oddity, one night, after taking my sixth step, I heard the unexpected sound of someone’s slippers from the darkness. A creepy woman’s beckoning to continue my counting, followed little later. My phone’s step count would increase even though I wasn’t moving.

Every time I tried to dismiss it as my imagination, the corridor slowly revealed “what was beyond.”