Book I: The Mannequin

"Ah, I see you've returned once more. Brave, or perhaps foolish. The library's shelves are filled with horrors beyond the imagination, yet here you are, eager for another taste of terror."

Master Renton Howling steps forward, his pale hands trailing along the spines of ancient tomes. His dark eyes gleam as he looks at you, his lips curling into a grin. "But this tale is different, dear reader. It doesn't happen in an ancient forest or a forgotten village. No, this story takes place in the very heart of modern life, where you least expect it. The places you think are safe, where the night is quiet, and nothing seems out of place."

He leans in, his breath cold and whispering like the wind. "But things are rarely what they seem, are they? You've seen mannequins before, haven't you? Cold, lifeless, frozen in perfect poses, standing silently in store windows. Have you ever wondered if, when you look away, they move?"

A shadow falls across his face, and his smile fades into something darker, more sinister. "This is the story of a man who dared to patrol the darkened halls of a quiet shopping mall, only to find that not all eyes that watch are human."

Master Howling steps back into the shadows, his voice trailing after him. "Beware the mannequins, dear reader. For once they know you've seen them… they'll never let you go."

The Mannequin

Gary, a seasoned security guard, shuffled down the wide, polished corridors of the Mall of Plainsborough , the rhythmic clink of his flashlight tapping against his belt the only sound cutting through the stillness of the night. It was his third year on the job, nothing exciting ever happened during the night shift. If he was lucky, he'd have to break up a group of teens sneaking in after hours, but mostly, the job consisted of long, quiet walks and staring at empty security monitors.

Gary liked the quiet, though. It gave him time to think, time to zone out without anyone bothering him.

His footsteps echoed softly as he passed store after store, rows of clothing shops, department stores, electronics, and food courts, each one bathed in the sterile glow of overhead lights left on for the night. The mannequins, neatly posed in the windows, stood frozen in their endless parade of salesmanship, each one staring blankly at nothing.

He yawned and checked his watch. Only a couple more hours to go.

Everything was quiet, as always, but something felt different tonight. He couldn't place it, but it was as if the silence was heavier, more oppressive. Gary chalked it up to being tired, his sleep schedule was a mess these days. He was probably imagining things.

And yet, there was something…

He stopped mid-stride, narrowing his eyes at the corridor ahead. Had he just heard something? A sound, faint and far away. Crying?

He stood perfectly still, his ears straining to catch it again. After a few seconds of nothing, he shook his head, chuckling under his breath. "You're losing it, Gary," he muttered.

But as he continued his patrol, a nagging feeling tugged at the back of his mind. He kept glancing over his shoulder, half-expecting to see something… but the mall remained still. Lifeless.

Back in the security office, Gary collapsed into his chair, groaning as his back cracked. The wall of security monitors flickered in front of him, showing every angle of the mall from multiple perspectives. Each screen displayed the same thing: nothing. No movement. No signs of life.

He let out a sigh of boredom, spinning his chair slightly as he kept half an eye on the screens.

Then something caught his attention.

One of the monitors, showing a view of the women's clothing store , Allura, flickered. It wasn't much, just a blur of movement in the corner of the screen. But it was enough to make him sit up straight.

Gary leaned forward, squinting at the screen. There was something there, a human-shaped figure, moving slowly between the aisles of clothing.

"What the hell?" he muttered, frowning.

He grabbed his flashlight and bolted out of the office, his boots pounding against the tile floor as he hurried down the corridor toward the store. His mind raced, there shouldn't be anyone in the mall at this hour. Not unless they'd broken in.

He skidded to a halt at the entrance to Allura, his breath heavy as he looked inside. The store was as still as it had been earlier, rows of neatly arranged racks and shelves, the mannequins posed in perfect stillness.

"Hey!" Gary called out, shining his flashlight into the dim aisles. "Mall security! If you're in here, come out now!"

No response.

He stepped inside, his boots muffled by the soft carpet as he walked slowly between the rows of clothing. The mannequins stood silently around him, their plastic faces emotionless, their poses frozen in time.

Something clattered nearby.

Gary whipped around, his flashlight beam cutting through the dim light. A display of handbags had tipped over, several of them scattered across the floor.

"Alright, this isn't funny!" Gary called, his voice louder now. "I'm warning you, I'll detain you and call the cops!"

But the only answer was silence.

And then, from somewhere deeper in the store, came the sound of soft crying.

Gary's blood ran cold.

The sound was faint, barely audible, but unmistakable. It was the cry of a child, soft, scared, and coming from just a few feet away.

He followed the sound, his heart pounding, until he stopped in front of one of the displays.

There, standing beneath a rack of children's clothes, was a small mannequin . Its plastic face was frozen in an expressionless stare, its small body dressed in a pink sundress.

And yet, the crying, it was coming from the mannequin.

Gary staggered backward, his breath coming in short gasps as his mind tried to make sense of what he was hearing. But before he could process it, he felt something cold brush against his back.

He turned, his heart leaping into his throat.

The mannequin behind him, an adult figure, dressed in a store uniform, had wrapped its plastic arms around him, pulling him close.

Gary's breath hitched as he struggled to break free, his muscles straining against the mannequin's grip. But the plastic limbs held firm.

And then, in the dim light of the store, Gary saw them.

All of them.

One by one, the other mannequins in the store began to move. Slowly at first, their heads twisting, their limbs jerking into motion as they turned to face him. Their blank, lifeless faces all pointed in his direction, their plastic hands reaching out, grasping for him.

Gary's heart raced as he thrashed in the mannequin's grip, finally managing to break free. He stumbled backward, tripping over a fallen handbag as the mannequins advanced, their plastic feet clicking softly against the floor.

Without thinking, he bolted for the nearest exit.

The corridors of the mall stretched out before him as he ran, the sound of his own footsteps echoing off the walls. He didn't look back. He couldn't.

When he reached the exit, he skidded to a halt, his eyes widening in horror.

Blocking the doors were a row of mannequins, dressed in sharp suits and ties, their hands crossed in front of them as if standing guard. Their heads turned toward him in unison, and from their unmoving mouths came a chilling whisper:

"You cannot leave."

Gary backed away, his mind racing. He couldn't go this way. He had to find another exit.

He sprinted down the hall toward the food court , his lungs burning as he ran. But when he reached the second exit, his heart sank.

The doorway was blocked by more mannequins, this time, female mannequins in swimsuits, their blank faces turned toward him, their arms outstretched in a beckoning gesture.

"Come closer," they whispered, their voices soft and alluring. "Come to us…"

Gary's breath hitched as he backed away, terror gripping his chest. They were everywhere, and there was no way out.

Except...

His mind flashed to the Chinese fast-food place at the end of the food court. He knew there were hidden doors in the back kitchens of some of the restaurants. If he could get there, he might be able to escape.

He sprinted for the food court, leaping over tables and chairs as the mannequins followed, their lifeless feet tapping behind him. He vaulted over the counter of the Chinese restaurant, landing hard on the kitchen floor, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

But as he looked up, his blood turned to ice.

Standing in the center of the kitchen was a mannequin, a female figure with hollowed-out eyes, its plastic face stained with dark, dried blood in the shape of a twisted, grotesque smile. In its hand, it held a long, gleaming knife .

"You can never leave," the mannequin hissed, its voice low and guttural. "You will never leave this place alive."

Before Gary could react, the mannequin lunged at him, the knife flashing in the dim light.

He stumbled backward, just as the knife came down. The blade missed his chest by inches and instead plunged deep into his shoulder. The pain was instant and blinding, shooting down his arm and sending him crashing to the floor. Blood gushed from the wound, soaking his uniform as he struggled to breathe, his vision clouded with the shock of it.

The mannequin stood over him, its hollowed-out eyes staring down with an eerie, vacant expression, as if it were studying him. Its plastic hand, still clutching the knife, twitched ever so slightly. The blood smeared across its face resembled a grotesque smile, a twisted mockery of human emotion.

"You will never leave," it rasped, its voice guttural, like the creaking of ancient wood.

Gary groaned in pain, trying to crawl backward, but his body felt sluggish, his strength draining away with every drop of blood that spilled onto the linoleum. He could hear the faint sound of footsteps, plastic feet tapping against the floor, as more mannequins approached, their voices joining in a low chant:

"One of us... one of us..."

Desperation surged through him. He grabbed the handle of the knife embedded in his shoulder, gritting his teeth against the agony as he pulled it free. The searing pain threatened to send him into unconsciousness, but he forced himself to stay awake. If he passed out now, it was over.

Staggering to his feet, Gary clutched the knife in his shaking hand. The mannequins had surrounded him now, their lifeless eyes fixed on him, their plastic limbs twitching in grotesque, jerky movements as they closed in.

"You cannot leave," they chanted, their voices hollow and cold. "You are one of us. One of us."

He spun around, scanning for an escape. There had to be a way out, somewhere he could hide, somewhere the mannequins couldn't reach him. His eyes darted toward the back door of the kitchen, the exit barely visible through the rows of looming plastic figures.

Gary bolted for it, his legs weak and shaking, his vision blurring from the blood loss. He shoved past the mannequins, their cold, plastic hands reaching out for him, grazing his skin as he ran. He could hear their voices rising behind him, growing louder, more insistent:

"One of us. One of us."

He stumbled into the door, slamming it open with the last of his strength. His heart pounded in his chest as he stumbled through the narrow hallway beyond, his shoulder throbbing with pain. He could barely think, his mind foggy from the loss of blood and the overwhelming terror that gripped him.

But then, as he reached for the final exit, something cold wrapped around his ankle.

He looked down.

A mannequin, its face twisted into a grotesque smile, had crawled across the floor and latched onto his leg. Its plastic fingers dug into his skin with impossible strength, holding him in place. Gary screamed, kicking at it with his free foot, but the mannequin held tight, pulling him closer as its hollow eyes glared up at him.

The other mannequins were closing in, their plastic feet tapping rhythmically against the linoleum, their voices chanting in unison:

"One of us. One of us."

With a desperate cry, Gary plunged the knife into the mannequin's arm, the blade slicing through plastic with a sickening crack. The mannequin released its grip, its arm severed at the elbow, but the others were already too close.

Gary staggered forward, his breath ragged, but he barely made it two steps before the mannequins swarmed him. Cold, plastic hands wrapped around his arms, his legs, his throat. He fought against them, kicking and thrashing, but there were too many. They dragged him down to the floor, pinning him there as their voices grew louder, filling the air with their chilling chant:

"One of us. One of us."

He screamed, but his voice was swallowed by their relentless chant. Sharp objects, knives, shards of glass, even splintered pieces of plastic, were raised above him, glinting in the dim light. And then, one by one, they came down.

The first blade sliced through his leg, the pain white-hot and blinding. Another plunged into his side, twisting deep into his flesh. Blood pooled beneath him, spreading across the floor in dark, widening circles as the mannequins continued to stab, their movements mechanical and methodical.

Gary's vision blurred, the pain overwhelming. His screams faded to weak gasps as the life drained from him. The last thing he saw before the world went dark was the mannequin's face, its twisted, blood-smeared smile looming above him.

And then, everything went black.

The next morning, the mall was buzzing with activity. Shoppers wandered through the bright, bustling corridors, unaware of the horrors that had unfolded during the night.

In the front window of Allura , the women's clothing store, a new mannequin had been added to the display. It stood slightly off to the side, dressed in a mall security guard uniform. But unlike the other pristine, posed figures, this one was different.

The mannequin's face was twisted in a grimace of terror, its plastic skin streaked with dark red stains. Its eyes, hollow and lifeless, seemed to follow the passersby as they moved through the mall. And its mouth, slightly open, seemed to be frozen in a scream.

Two children ran up to the window, pointing and giggling as they looked at the strange new figure.

"Look at that one!" one of the kids exclaimed. "It's creepy!"

The other child nodded, stepping closer to the glass. "It looks... real."

For a moment, the mannequin seemed to shift ever so slightly, its plastic face twitching in a way that made the kids step back. And then, just for a second, they heard it, so faint they could have imagined it:

"Help me..."

The children froze, their eyes wide with fear.

"Did you hear that?" one of them whispered.

"Yeah…" The other child glanced around nervously. "Let's go."

Without another word, the kids turned and ran, disappearing into the crowd of shoppers.

And there, in the window, the bloodied mannequin remained, its mouth still open in a silent scream.

Waiting.

Epilogue

Master Renton Howling reappears, his pale face illuminated by the flickering candlelight. His lips curve into a smile, though his eyes remain dark and unreadable.

"Poor Gary," he murmurs, his voice soft and cold. "He thought the mannequins were lifeless. He thought they were simply decorations in a quiet mall, harmless and still. But as he learned, dear reader, not everything that appears lifeless truly is."

He takes a step closer, his shadow looming over you as he continues. "Perhaps the next time you find yourself alone in a store at night, you'll take a second look at the mannequins around you. You might even wonder... are they watching you? Are they waiting for you to notice?"

His smile widens, revealing sharp, gleaming teeth. "And if they are... well, I hope you can run faster than poor Gary."

The candle flickers and the room grows darker, as Master Renton's low raspy laughter fills the halls and fades into the void.