The Glow in the Darkroom

Maya had always found comfort in the predictable rhythm of her art class. The smell of turpentine, the scratch of charcoal on paper, the low hum of the ventilation system. It was her sanctuary. But today, that sanctuary felt like a cage.

Her friend, Lena, had been acting strange all morning. At first, Maya thought she was just tired. But then Lena’s eyes seemed to have a film over them, like she was looking at something far away. Her skin had a faint, eerie luminescence, as if she had swallowed a glow stick. Maya tried to ask if she was sick, but Lena just stormed out of the room without a word.

Maya followed, asking for a hall pass. She checked every bathroom, every corridor, but Lena was gone. When Maya returned to art class, there was Lena, sitting in her usual spot, smiling brightly. Her eyes sparkled, her skin was sun-kissed. Maya convinced herself she had imagined the whole thing.

Second period. Maya sat down in history class. The room was empty except for her and a few others. Suddenly, she felt a tug on her hair, playful, like a child. She spun around, but no one was there. She laughed it off. Hallucination.

Fourth period. Maya was walking to her chemistry lab when she felt a hand on her arm, yanking her back. She turned. A faint, shimmering outline of a man was gripping her forearm. His fingers were cold, like winter air. Maya opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came. The outline flickered, then vanished.

Lena appeared at her side, touching her shoulder. ‘You look pale,’ she said, her voice overly sweet. Maya tried to shake off the encounter. She had to be imagining things. Stress. Too much caffeine.

That night, Maya lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. The image of the man’s outline burned in her mind. She reached for her phone to text Lena, but her hand stopped. Her bedroom door creaked open. A figure stood in the threshold, backlit by the hallway light. It was Lena. Her skin was glowing that sickly blue again.

‘You weren’t supposed to leave the darkroom,’ Lena said, her voice distorting, echoing as if from a deep well.

Maya’s heart raced. ‘What are you talking about?’ she stammered.

Lena stepped forward. Her eyes were now voids, black and bottomless. ‘The darkroom where we develop our photos. You were supposed to stay with me. You left. Now you’ve exposed yourself.’

The man’s outline solidified behind Lena, taller and darker. His hand reached out, fingers dripping with what looked like liquid shadow.

Maya scrambled to her feet, but her legs wouldn’t move. The room grew cold. The walls seemed to press in. The man’s hand touched her cheek, and the world went black.

When Maya woke, she was in the school’s darkroom, the red safelight casting a crimson glow. Photos were developing on the line, but they were not ordinary prints. They were images of her, from different days, always with the man’s silhouette lurking behind her. The last photo showed her as she was now, lying unconscious on this very floor, with the man’s hands around her throat.

The door creaked open. Lena entered, her skin now fully translucent, revealing a network of glowing veins. ‘Now you understand,’ she said, her voice no longer Lena’s. ‘The darkroom is a gateway. He feeds on those who stray from the light. And you, my dear, were the perfect subject.’

Maya looked down at her own hands. They were beginning to glow, faintly at first, then brighter. She realized with horror that she was becoming like Lena. The man’s outline faded, but his laughter echoed in the tiny room.

In the morning, when the janitor found the darkroom, two girls were sitting there, their skin radiant, their smiles wide, their eyes black. They were cutting photos out of paper, each one showing a new victim. And the man’s outline stood behind them, waiting for the next student to wander in after hours.