Frigid water seeped through Harper’s shoes as he trudged through the ankle-deep rainwater that’d settled in the entranceway, Harper already starting to regret his foolhardy choice to enter some random bunker that some random person from some random forum told him to visit. All that being said, he’d already sloshed his way three-quarters of the way to the door, so it didn’t seem worth the trouble turning back now. 

Besides, his curiosity was through the roof. He’d never seen this bunker despite frolicking about these woods in his younger years; was it a new construction? Or had he just missed it? Did it even have anything to do with what happened to Alex? Nagging questions like those swum about in his head, and he doubted he’d sleep soundly for a while unless he’d sorted out at least some of them.  The aged, rotten look of the door he was now standing before certainly didn’t lean towards the “newly-built” conclusion. Moss had settled deep into the fibers of the wood, a rusted doorknob hanging loosely from the door by an equally-rusted nail. Harper paused, raising his camera to his eye and snapping a photo with a bright flash. For the record, he figured. The design of the camera made it so he wouldn’t be able to check the quality of anything he’d taken until the photographs were developed, so Harper let it hang loosely around his neck again. He gave a harsh nudge to the door with the butt of his flashlight, not wanting to hinder his photography efforts with splinters under his nail - hampered as it already was with soaked socks. 

The door moved with little resistance, other than that offered by the rusty hinges it hung upon. 

The room was almost a slap in the face to Harper, considering just how much it differed from the hallway leading to it.

The damp hallway gave way to a pristine, hotel-esque lobby. Harper’s eyes were immediately drawn to the floor, laid with almost monochrome tiles. Black tiles contrasted with creamy-white tiles, shining against the light of his flashlight, laid in a large spiral pattern that covered the whole floor. The walls were a solid colour of the same gentle white, adorned with various frilly drapes and fine paintings. Or, they looked to be fine, at least. It was hard to tell when all Harper had to judge the room before him was a gas station flashlight.  Even in the dark, the room before him looked… welcoming. Even though the two main colours contrasted so strongly, they weren’t harsh at all. In fact, Harper found himself leaning through the doorway he was so cautious about opening, longing for a closer look at the architecture before he caught himself, quite literally. Gravity forced him to take a sudden step through the threshold, flailing his arms to rebalance himself, avoiding a harsh meeting between his nose and the tile floor. 

The room abruptly plunged into a thick darkness, his flashlight cracking against the floor, sputtering light pointing towards him and drowning out any detail beyond it. Harper yelped, a noise he wouldn’t have otherwise thought he could make, realising he’d sent his flashlight flying forward with his efforts to stay upright. 

It was then, all at once, the little enchantment he’d had with the welcoming decorations of the room was quickly smothered by the primal fear of the dark. Like a cold splash of water to his spirit. He looked down at his soaked shoes, illuminated by his cracked flashlight. A bit of his view blocked by the flimsy camera he’d brought with him as it sat against his chest. Harper shuddered as goosebumps ran down his arm, fists balling up as frustration bubbled up in his chest. 

This was stupid.

Really, what was he doing? Going to a hidden bunker, in the middle of nowhere, which was clearly maintained, at the behest of an anonymous forum user? It was, perhaps, one of the stupidest things he’d ever thought to do, no matter how curious he was. And with such paltry equipment, no less. How’d he even convince himself to do this to begin with? 

Whatever. Harper could sort that out later. He didn’t want to spend a second longer in this dank, creepy bunker which some freak had remodeled as an art project, or something. He could still see the light of day at the end of the entrance through the doorway behind him, and, with a much more rational mind, decided it was time to go.

That was until the lights flickered on.