Ward Thirteen
A world told in the horror voice
The job ad said night security, good pay, no experience needed. The facility keeps things that shouldn't exist: a door that opens onto the sea, a doll that whispers, a patient who doesn't age. Your shift starts at midnight, and the last guard left a list of rules.
The day guard hands you the keys without meeting your eyes. "Rules are on the desk," Marcus says. "Follow them. All of them." Then he is gone and the door locks behind him.
The list is handwritten, ten rules, the last one scratched out so hard the pen tore the paper. You are reading rule three when, at the end of the east corridor, the phone begins to ring.
For Android, rated Mature 17+
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