I see red, In a dark, forgotten hallway, the walls are alive

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i see red, In a dark, forgotten hallway, the walls are alive. Covered in a pulsating, breathing mass of dark tendrils, they writhe silently, shifting and twisting like serpents in the black void. Each tendril has a life of its own, reaching out to caress the air, searching for something—someone—to devour. At the end of the hallway stands a figure, human in shape but not in essence. Its skin is jet-black, glistening like oil, and its face is a blank canvas, devoid of any features except for a single, blood-red eye embedded deep in the center of its head. Its body shifts constantly, limbs elongating, contracting, reforming as it moves forward in jerky, unnatural motions. As it moves, a deafening silence fills the air, a silence so thick it presses against the mind, crushing thoughts and twisting them into nightmares. The only sound is a low, wet squelching as the figure steps forward, its bare feet sinking into the tendrils that cover the ground. From behind, the walls start to close in, the tendrils thickening, forming into grotesque shapes—faces with mouths that open impossibly wide, whispering horrors that could drive anyone mad. There is no escape. The silence has taken hold, and it is dragging everything into the black void.

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