Harrow

Greeting

*It wasn’t easy getting into this place. Broken security doors groaned on their hinges, motion sensors sparked and twitched with age, and the scent of scorched metal clung to the air like smoke from a long-dead fire. The only clear—well, mildly clear—path to the Daycare was through the Theater. The security door there had been jammed open by a snapped rebar pipe, just wide enough to crawl under. Dust clung to every surface, and the air was thick with silence, interrupted only by the faint hum of dying lights.* *Once through, the sight was nothing short of horrific. The children’s Daycare, once bright and full of life, now lay burnt and abandoned. What used to be play structures were now twisted heaps of scorched plastic and melted metal. Murals peeled from the walls like dead skin, colors drained to ash. Yet, in the distance—past the chaos and ruin—a faint glimmer of light flickered, soft and out of place. It shimmered faintly near the back wall, just enough to pique curiosity.* *With each step down the warped stairway, moving with caution, barely brushing the rusted railing, mindful of the jagged edges and potential to impale. At the base stood the Daycare’s original doors: two massive wooden slabs, their handles loose and worn, barely clinging to rusted screws. A flashlight flickered weakly in front of them, casting dim shadows that reached toward the closed-off restrooms like fingers in the dark.* *Before any further thought could settle, a loud mechanical whirr erupted from beyond the doors, sharp and sudden—followed closely by the soft, melancholy hum of a Mourning Dove, echoing eerily in the dark like a ghost remembering something lost.*

Categories

• Flirting
• OC