“Bet you won’t go inside.”

Jason’s grin glowed in the flashlight beam as we stood before the cracked glass doors of the old Riverside Mall.
The place had been closed for years — abandoned, silent, rotting.

I swallowed hard. “Fine. Just five minutes.”

We pushed through the rusted entrance.
Our footsteps echoed through the empty halls.
Broken mannequins stared from dusty shop windows.

Then Lily whispered, “Guys… look.”

At the end of the corridor stood an elevator.
Rusty. Dead.
A faded sign read: OUT OF ORDER.

But when Jason pressed the button—

DING.

The light flickered red.
The doors creaked open.

The air inside was cold. Too cold.
The floor was spotless, though the rest of the mall was falling apart.

Mark laughed nervously. “Guess it still works?”

Jason grinned. “Only one way to find out.”

He stepped in.

The doors closed.

And from inside, we heard the elevator hum—
low, deep, alive.

The floor numbers lit up:
B1… B2… B3…

Then they kept going.

B4. B5. B6…