The Hollow Man
It was a rainy night when Vikram’s car broke down on a quiet, empty street. The rain poured heavily, making the world feel small and distant. Thick fog wrapped around the streetlights, hiding the road and making everything feel cold and silent except for the steady sound of raindrops hitting the ground.
Vikram had walked down this road many times before, but tonight felt different. There was a strange chill in the air that he couldn’t shake. He thought it was just because he was tired from work. All he wanted was to get home and rest.
But then, he heard something.
Footsteps.
At first, Vikram wasn’t sure if he was imagining it. He stopped and listened carefully, his heart suddenly racing. The footsteps stopped as well. He turned around but saw nothing. The street was empty, just the rain and the fog.
“Just your imagination,” Vikram muttered to himself. But his steps became quicker, and his breath grew shallow as he hurried down the street.
Then, he heard the footsteps again.
This time, they were much closer.
“Who’s there?” Vikram called out, turning around quickly. His voice was almost lost in the sound of the rain, but there was no answer. Again, the street was empty. The buildings around him looked like shadows in the mist, hiding whatever was in the fog.
Vikram’s unease grew. “Stop scaring yourself,” he whispered, trying to calm his nerves. But the footsteps were still there, matching his pace, growing louder as he walked faster.
A shiver ran down his spine when he passed a broken storefront window. In the shattered glass, he saw something—movement, something dark and strange. He quickly turned to look, but once again, there was nothing there.
The fog was thick now, and the streetlights flickered, one by one, until they went out completely. Vikram’s heart pounded. His mind raced as panic began to set in. He started running, his shoes splashing in the puddles, the footsteps now chasing him.
Up ahead, he saw a narrow alleyway between two old buildings. Without thinking, Vikram darted into the alley, pressing his back against the cold wall. He took deep breaths, trying to steady his racing heart.
For a moment, everything was quiet. The only sound was the rain dripping from the rooftops above. Vikram closed his eyes, willing himself to calm down. But then, he heard a voice.
“Why are you running?”
The voice was low, almost growling, and it seemed to come from everywhere. Vikram’s eyes shot open, and he looked around frantically. He couldn’t see anyone, but the voice was still there.
“Who’s there?” Vikram shouted, but his voice was weak, barely above a whisper.
From the darkness at the end of the alley, a figure slowly emerged. It moved closer, and Vikram could see that it was tall—too tall. The figure was thin, its limbs unnaturally long, and its head tilted at an odd angle. But the most terrifying thing was its face—or rather, the lack of it. Where there should have been eyes, a nose, and a mouth, there was only smooth, pale skin. Nothing else. It was like a mannequin, lifeless and empty.
Vikram froze. He couldn’t move. The figure stepped closer, its long arms reaching out toward him.
“Stay,” the figure whispered, its voice echoing in the alley. “Stay with me.”
Vikram couldn’t take it anymore. With a scream, he turned and ran as fast as he could, pushing past the creature and stumbling back into the street.
But when he looked around, everything had changed.
The fog was now so thick he could barely see a few feet ahead. The buildings around him were strange, warped, and their windows dark and empty. The rain had stopped, but the silence that replaced it was even worse. Vikram’s panic grew as he realized he didn’t know where he was. No matter which direction he turned, he couldn’t find his way out.
The fog seemed to close in around him, making everything feel suffocating. He spun in circles, trying to find something familiar, but there was nothing. No sign of life. No sounds. Just the thick fog and empty streets.
Then, he heard it again—the voice, the whisper.
“You can’t leave.”
Vikram’s breath quickened. He looked around wildly, but there was no one in sight. He ran again, his legs aching with every step as he tried to escape. But no matter where he went, the street twisted and turned, always leading him back to the same place.
And then, he saw them.
Figures—dozens of them—standing silently in the fog. All of them were tall and thin like the creature he had seen earlier. All of them had no faces. Their smooth, featureless faces stared at him, empty and cold.
The whispers grew louder, overlapping with each other until Vikram could no longer tell where one voice ended and another began. The sound was deafening. It filled his head, making him feel like he was going crazy. His knees buckled, and he fell to the ground, clutching his head as the voices consumed him.
Finally, the fog lifted, and everything was still again. The street was empty. The figures, the whispers, the fog—everything was gone. Vikram’s heart was still racing, but there was nothing to see, no one to hear.
But as Vikram stood there, trying to make sense of what had just happened, he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. A shadow, just at the edge of the street, where the fog hadn’t quite cleared. He turned to look, and for a moment, he saw it.
The Hollow Man.
Standing in the shadows, waiting for someone to join him.
If you ever find yourself walking down that street on a rainy night, you might see Vikram too. He stands silently in the fog, his face smooth and blank, just like the others. Waiting. Waiting for someone else to join him.
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