Descent Into Death

The wind howled as Kurt, Ned, Cedric, and Elroy stood at the gates of Waverly Hills Sanatorium. The decaying building loomed before them, its windows dark and lifeless, like the hollow eyes of a skull. The infamous tuberculosis hospital had a sinister reputation—whispers of tortured spirits, disembodied voices, and shadowy figures that roamed the halls long after the last patient had died. But none of that deterred the four friends, who had made it their mission to explore the most haunted places they could find. 

Tonight, it was Waverly Hills. 

“You sure about this, Kurt?” Elroy asked, his voice tinged with nervousness as he stared at the massive building. “I mean, it’s one thing to read about this place, but being here…” 

Kurt, the self-appointed leader of their ghost-hunting exploits, gave a confident grin. “Come on, man. It’s just an old hospital. Besides, the morgue and that Body Chute? It’s the stuff of legend. We have to see it.” 

Cedric adjusted his camera, the red record light glowing in the dark. “We’ll be the first ones to capture real footage. People will lose their minds when they see what we find in there.” 

Ned, who had been quiet since they arrived, finally spoke up. “Let’s just get it over with. The longer we stand out here, the more I think this is a bad idea.” 

Kurt chuckled, clapping Ned on the shoulder. “What, scared already? Don’t worry, you’ll be fine.” 

With a creak, the rusted gate swung open, and they stepped onto the cracked concrete path leading to the entrance. The air was thick with the stench of decay, and the towering building cast an ominous shadow over them. The atmosphere was oppressive, as though the weight of all the suffering that had taken place within those walls still lingered, watching, waiting. 

They reached the main doors, which hung crookedly on their hinges. With a heave, Kurt pushed them open, and they stepped inside. The interior was worse than they had imagined. Peeling paint, rusted bed frames, and crumbling walls greeted them. The silence was suffocating, only broken by the occasional scuttle of rats or the distant creak of old metal. 

“Let’s start with the morgue,” Kurt said, shining his flashlight down the long, narrow hallway. 

They moved deeper into the hospital, their footsteps echoing off the walls. The cold air seemed to cling to them, as if the building itself was wrapping its arms around their bodies, pulling them closer. The darkness was impenetrable, and every shadow seemed to move just out of sight. 

As they reached the entrance to the morgue, Cedric paused. “Do you hear that?” 

The others stopped, listening. For a moment, there was only silence. Then, faintly, from somewhere deep within the building, they heard it—an eerie, wheezing sound, like someone struggling to breathe. 

Ned swallowed hard. “Please tell me that’s the wind.” 

“Wind doesn’t sound like that,” Cedric muttered, gripping his camera tighter. 

Kurt shook his head. “It’s probably just an old pipe or something. Let’s keep moving.” 

They entered the morgue, and the temperature seemed to drop another ten degrees. The smell of death was overwhelming—stale, rotten, and metallic. Rows of old, rusted gurneys lined the walls, and at the far end of the room was the body storage cooler, its door slightly ajar. 

“This is where they kept the bodies before sending them down the Body Chute,” Kurt said, his voice hushed. “Thousands of people died here. They say the doctors used to stack the bodies like firewood.” 

Cedric panned his camera around the room, capturing the eerie stillness. “What kind of place just… stacks bodies like that?” 

Ned took a step toward the cooler, his flashlight beam cutting through the darkness. “I don’t like this. I don’t like this at all.” 

Before anyone could respond, the door to the cooler creaked open wider, slowly revealing a dark void beyond. They all froze, staring at the blackness inside. 

“That… wasn’t the wind,” Elroy said, his voice trembling. 

Kurt, always the bravest—or the most reckless—moved toward the cooler. “It’s fine. It’s just old and falling apart. Watch.” 

He reached out and pulled the door fully open, but instead of the empty cooler, they were greeted by something much worse. 

A figure stood inside—a gaunt, skeletal shape with hollow eyes that seemed to glow faintly in the dark. Its skin was stretched tight over its bones, and it wore the tattered remnants of what looked like an old hospital gown. Its mouth hung open in a silent scream, and the stench of rot intensified. 

For a long moment, no one moved. No one breathed. 

Then the figure stepped forward. 

“RUN!” Kurt shouted, and the spell was broken. 

The four friends bolted from the morgue, sprinting down the hall, their flashlights bouncing wildly as they ran. Behind them, the sound of dragging footsteps echoed, growing louder, faster. 

They reached the stairwell that led to the Body Chute, and without hesitation, Kurt threw open the door. The Body Chute was a narrow, sloping tunnel that had once been used to transport the dead from the hospital to the bottom of the hill, out of sight of the living patients. Now, it was a black pit that seemed to stretch into infinity. 

“This way!” Kurt yelled, and they plunged into the darkness. 

The tunnel was damp, the walls slick with mold and grime. Their footsteps echoed eerily as they descended deeper and deeper into the chute. Behind them, the sound of the figure’s approach never wavered. It was relentless, growing closer with each passing second. 

Cedric tripped, his camera skidding across the floor. He scrambled to his feet, but the thing was almost upon him. He screamed, but Kurt grabbed his arm, dragging him down the chute. “Come on, don’t stop!” 

They kept running, but the tunnel seemed endless. The air grew colder, and the darkness became more suffocating. Elroy glanced over his shoulder, his eyes wide with terror. “It’s gaining on us!” 

And then, without warning, Ned stopped. He turned to face the thing that pursued them, his flashlight trembling in his hand. 

“What the hell are you doing?” Kurt shouted. 

Ned’s face was pale, his eyes wide. “We’re not going to make it. We can’t outrun it.” 

Before anyone could stop him, he stepped into the center of the tunnel and held out his arms as if to surrender. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. 

The figure lunged at him, its bony hands wrapping around his throat. Ned screamed, but it was cut short as the thing pulled him into the darkness. 

The others kept running, their breaths coming in ragged gasps. The tunnel finally ended, and they burst out into the open air. They collapsed onto the ground, gasping for breath, their bodies shaking with fear and exhaustion. 

But they weren’t safe. 

From the mouth of the tunnel, the figure emerged, dragging Ned’s lifeless body behind it. His face was twisted in horror, his eyes wide and unseeing. The thing dropped his body and began to move toward them, its hollow eyes fixed on the remaining three. 

“We can’t stop here!” Kurt yelled, pulling Elroy and Cedric to their feet. “We have to keep going!” 

But as they turned to run, another figure appeared in front of them—then another, and another. Dozens of shadowy, skeletal figures emerged from the woods surrounding the sanatorium, their eyes glowing faintly in the dark. 

They were surrounded. 

Kurt, Cedric, and Elroy backed up against the side of the hill, their hearts pounding in their chests. There was nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. The figures closed in, their bony hands reaching out, their mouths open in silent screams. 

And then the darkness swallowed them whole. 

End.