The Locker

  **The air inside was thick, pressing against his chest like an iron weight. Cave gasped, but no oxygen seemed to reach his lungs. His ribs ached, his bruised stomach throbbed, and the tiny slits of light coming through the locker vents taunted him with the promise of a world just beyond reach—a world where he was not suffocating.**

  He couldn’t breathe.

  The air inside was thick.

  Heavy. Suffocating.

  The metal frame, the locker walls were all too tight, pressing in on him like a metal coffin. The air was stale, thick with the scent of old sweat, rust, and something rotten—something that had been locked away for far too long.

  His ribs ached, they screamed with each shallow breath sending sharp pain through his body. The pain blooming inside his chest like a thousand knives stabbing all at once. His head swam, his vision blurred as he fought to stay awake.

  The locker was pitch black, and in that blackness, his mind ran wild.

  He could hear his own heartbeat, thumping loud in his ears like a frantic drumbeat.

  Thud-thud-thud-thud.

  He gasped, trying to pull in more air—but there was none.

  The heat of his own breath bounced back at him from the metal walls, humid and suffocating, turning his lungs into a furnace.

  Cave’s fingers trembled as he pressed against the inside of the door, pushing, shoving, slamming his fists—nothing.

  The cold steel refused to budge.

  The locker was too tight to give a slight chance of hope, pressing in on him from all sides. He could barely move.

  His lips parted—he tried to call for help—but his voice came out as a weak rasp.

  Through the tiny ventilation slits, he could see the hallway outside, but it was empty.

  Everyone was gone.

  Recess.

  Even Mary had left.

  **He tried to move, to shift even slightly, but his limbs felt sluggish, pinned by exhaustion and lack of air. His fingers clawed at the metal door, but the force of Kevin and Peter’s slam had jammed it shut. A sharp throb pulsed through his skull. His breath was shortening, becoming ragged. His vision was starting to blur.**

  His vision swam. His muscles weakened. His body betrayed him.

  Cave’s head slumped forward. His body was now shutting down.

  The pain. The exhaustion. The lack of air.

  His heartbeat slowed. His mind drifted—

  And then—

  The air shifted.

  Cold.

  A chilled breeze rushed through the locker.

  FREEZING. UNNATURAL.

  **At first, it was subtle, like a ghostly whisper tracing along the nape of his neck. Then, within seconds, the temperature plummeted. His shallow breaths turned to mist. The sweat on his skin crystallized into tiny flecks of frost, and the metal walls began to shimmer with an unnatural, glassy sheen. The air grew heavier, but this time, it wasn’t just the weight of suffocation—it was something else, something watching.**

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  A sudden, sharp drop in temperature sent a shockwave through his bones.

  His breath hitched as a frosty mist curled into the locker, creeping along the metal walls like frozen veins.

  The sweat on his skin hardened, turning into tiny crystals that cracked as he tried to move.

  Cave’s eyes fluttered open; his breath— now visible—in the dim light—spilled from his lips in frantic bursts of white vapor.

  It was like standing in the middle of a blizzard, like winter had crawled inside the locker and made its home within the steel walls.

  His teeth chattered. His fingers numbed.

  Then—

  A whisper.

  Not from outside.

  From inside.

  The misty fog continued to curl around him like a snake, swirling inside the confined space, making him almost panic as he started thinking about his life. It slithered around him, curling in his ears like the breath of something unseen, something waiting.

  Cave’s throat clenched. His body refused to move.

  The temperature kept dropping.

  Lower.

  Lower.

  Until his joints locked up, until his skin burned from the cold.

  His breath grew shallower, his body pulling into itself, desperate to keep warm. His skin prickled, goosebumps spreading across his arms.

  Then—

  **Cave’s shivering fingers trembled against the door, his breath growing thinner by the second. His eyelashes felt stiff, his lips numb, his body slowing down, as if something was draining the warmth right out of him. Then, the whisper came.

  “We see you...”

  It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t angry. It was gentle, soothing even. And yet, it slithered into his bones like icy tendrils, wrapping around his very being. Before he could react, before he could even panic, the locker door burst open.**

  BANG!

  The locker door swung open.

  Cave collapsed, he fell forward, crashing onto the hallway floor, as his body gave in, hitting the floor with a dull thud. The sudden force sent him spilling out, his body collapsing onto the hallway floor like a lifeless ragdoll.

  Cold mist poured out behind him, swirling through the air like the remnants of something unnatural, something that didn’t belong.

  He gasped. Sucked in air. The sudden warmth of the world hitting him like a tidal wave. His lungs burned—his ribs and limbs ached—his breath was heavy in his throat, but he was free—he was alive.

  His limbs ached.

  His shaking fingers pressed against the frozen tile.

  The world tilted, his vision swimming as he gasped for air.

  The hallway was empty.

  Silent.

  Like no one had been there at all.

  No one had opened the locker.

  No one had rescued him.

  And yet—

  A fog poured from inside the locker, rippling out into the hall like a living thing.

  Cold. Silent. Wrong.

  The cold mist twisted and coiled back toward the locker, receding, as if something had been disturbed.

  Something that had let him go.

  Cave’s breath hitched.

  His hands trembled as he pushed himself up, his entire body still shaking from the cold.

  And then—

  The bell rang.

  TRRRRRIIIIINNNGGGG!

  The mist vanished. It slithered out of the locker behind him, curling like spectral fingers before fading into the air—silent, unseen, and utterly forgotten.

  Like it had never been there.

  And just as quickly, the hallway was alive again—the rush of students flooded the hallway, oblivious to what had just happened. Some barely noticed him lying there. They were talking, others laughed, some shouting.

  They rushed past him. Ignored him.

  Kevin and Peter walked past him.

  Other students even leaped over him. Some stepped over him without so much as a second glance.

  Not one of them noticed him sprawled on the ground, his body still trembling, his breath still visible in the air.

  Like he wasn’t even there.

  Like he was just—nothing. Just another dead thing, a potato sack.

  Discarded and forgotten.

  Cave’s heart pounded in his chest. His hands curled into fists. He pushed himself up, his hands shaking violently, his mind spinning.

  He was angry.

  It wasn’t Peter. It wasn’t Kevin.

  He would deal with them later.

  But right now, he was afraid.

  Not of them.

  No.

  But of the whisper still lingering in his ears.

  He was afraid of what had just happened.

  Afraid of the cold.

  Afraid of the whispers.

  Of the chill that still clung to his skin.

  And of the dark figure he had seen for just a split second—

  Standing in the mist.

  Watching him.

  As he lifted his head, his gaze shifting toward the schoolyard outside— in the schoolyard, the wind carried something through the trees.

  He heard it again.

  A voice.

  A whisper.

  Calling his name.

  A whisper, carried by the wind through the trees.

  Soft. Sinister.

  Inviting him over.

  Cold, but alarming.

  “Wizard boy!” someone snickered.

  Cave barely heard them. His body was still trembling, the frost still lingering in his veins. The whisper still echoed faintly in the back of his skull.

  Then—warmth. A hand grasped his arm, pulling him up.

  Mary.

  She had appeared out of nowhere, her expression worried, her movements quick as she gathered his scattered books and stuffed them into his bag.

  “Sorry, man! I told Miss Shelley about it. She’ll knock some sense into those two in a moment, so don’t worry.” Her voice was hurried, her touch steady, but Cave barely felt it.

  His body was still cold.

  Still listening.

  The whisper had vanished, the fog had dissolved, but something told him… it wasn’t gone. Not really.

  “2nd quarter, all get in class. NOW!” Miss Shelley’s voice rang through the hallway, firm and commanding.

  Cave gave Mary a quick nod before turning towards the restroom, his steps unsteady.

  He needed a mirror.

  He needed to see if his breath was still misting in the air.

  Because something told him... it might be.

  And worse—someone, something—might still be watching.