The hallway gaps open stretching wide and thin.

It doesn’t radiate, it consumes, like a void demanding to be filled.

Each surface it covers is cold, damp, and smooth.

I’ve overheard some of the others calling it the maw, worrying that the beast will soon wake.

Even before, no one in the firm passed through the corridor easily, but now most sprint.

We swap stories of its origin and our experiences, our fears hidden inside the hollow jokes.

The worst part is the light near the middle, it brutally breaks our wills when we try to calmly pass.

This eye of the beast blinks madly whenever someone gets near, no matter how many times repaired.

Skeptics go use the front entrance now too, after all, it had never grabbed someone before.