Ghost Story #003

"Don't Look Down"

People stopped using the left stall.

Not because it was broken.
Not because of the sign.

Because of what happened when you sat down.

At first, nothing felt wrong.
The door locked.
The light flickered once, then stayed on.

But after a moment, you felt it.

A presence.

Not behind you.
Not in front of you.

Below.

Someone once made the mistake of looking down.

Not into the toilet.

Into the darkness behind it.

They said the shadow moved the wrong way.
Not with the light.

Against it.

Another person claimed they heard breathing—
slow, patient—
coming from inside the bowl.

After that night, the arcade manager sealed the stall.

But sometimes, when the hall is empty,
the lock still turns.

And if you stand outside the door long enough,
you can hear a voice from inside, whispering:

"Don't look down."

No one ever does.

Because everyone already knows
what's waiting.