In the dead of night, I was jolted awake by a loud snoring sound. I was alone in my flat—how could there be a man snoring? Suddenly, I remembered a film where a man was hiding under a woman’s bed… I immediately picked up my phone to call Tom, but my best friend Rachel texted me just then: “Don’t trust your boyfriend; he’s going to kill you!” At midnight, I was awoken by the sound of snoring. Groggy and half-asleep, I instinctively thought it was Tom, but then I remembered we had just had an argument and he hadn’t come to see me tonight. I sat up in shock. The snoring stopped abruptly. I quickly turned on the light. I lived in a single room flat of about twenty square meters, and it was clear there was no one else in sight. Could I have been dreaming just now? But the snoring had been so vivid and real. At this point, I hadn’t thought much about it and assumed it was just my stress from work causing hallucinations. I went to the bathroom and then back to bed. I didn’t turn off the light; after all, that snoring had been far too real, and I felt a bit scared. The light gave me a semblance of comfort. But just as I lay down, the snoring began again. This time, it was so clear, it felt as if it was right next to me! I was truly terrified; my heart skipped a beat. I sat up again, and the snoring disappeared once more. I sat there, dumbfounded. Then I remembered the film about a man hiding under a woman’s bed… If that snoring was real and so close, then the person making that sound had to be in the room! If I couldn’t see them, they must be… hiding under the bed! I grabbed my phone to call the police. But what if the snoring was just a figment of my imagination? How would I explain that to the police when they arrived? I glanced around the room and found only a pair of scissors for protection, so I picked them up and opened the door, ready to flee at any moment. In the end, I grabbed a clothes pole and reached under the bed, sweeping left and right. The clothes pole didn’t touch anything. I finally breathed a sigh of relief, summoning the courage to lift the bed sheet that touched the floor. Under the bed was nothing but a thick layer of dust. Only then did I feel reassured and let out a long sigh. It seemed it had indeed been my imagination. I closed the door and lay back down, trying to sleep; the snoring didn’t return. But just as I was about to doze off, my smart speaker suddenly chimed: “Game on, please answer the question. Is she virtual?” What was happening? Had I mumbled in my sleep? Or was it malfunctioning? So I shouted, “Smart speaker, shut up!” It seemed to malfunction and didn’t receive my command; instead, it continued: “Is she female?” The smart speaker was right by my bedside, and I grabbed it to try to turn it off, but no matter how I pressed the buttons, it wouldn’t respond. “Is she from a Japanese anime?” “Is she from a novel?” … This was definitely not a hallucination, nor was it a dream! Then I recalled the snoring, and a chilling conclusion hit me—there was something unclean in this room! For the first time in my life, I felt such intense fear! Run! That was the only thought in my mind! I didn’t even have time to put on shoes, wrapped in my pajamas, I bolted out of the flat. I lived on the 25th floor, and the lift was still on the 1st floor. I thought about taking the stairs, but the corridor was too dark, and I was too scared to go. I wanted to call the police, but how could I explain this to them? In the end, I trembled as I took out my phone to call Rachel. But she hung up immediately and soon replied with a text: “What’s wrong?” I figured she might not be able to take the call, so I replied that I was encountering a ghost and needed her to come save me. As I typed, my hands shook, and I wasn’t sure how many typos I made in that simple sentence. But I knew she would understand. Just then, the lift arrived, and I hurried in, pressing the door close button. As soon as the doors closed, they opened again. But the corridor was empty; there was nothing there.
The lift doors closed again, and it began to descend normally, with no more anomalies. When it reached the 18th floor, the doors opened again, and still, no one was there. What was more terrifying was that the doors stayed open for a long time; I pressed the button frantically, but to no avail. The only reason the doors wouldn’t close was that someone was still trying to get in! I felt tears prick at my eyes, hesitating to escape the lift, when suddenly the doors shut. On the 16th floor, the doors opened. Finally, I saw someone. It was a middle-aged woman, dressed in red and green, looking very flamboyant, as if she were going to meet a lover. I was sure she was human. I felt like I had grasped a lifeline and quickly stepped aside, hoping to ask her for help once she entered. But she frowned at the lift, mumbling to herself, “Why are there so many people at this hour?” She took a couple of steps back. “I’m the only one in here!” I trembled as I told her. But it seemed she didn’t hear me; until the lift doors closed again, she never got on. I finally realized—this lift was full of ghosts! My back instantly went cold, and I hurriedly pressed the button for the 9th floor; I had to get out of here! I pressed myself against the side of the lift, keeping a wary eye on my surroundings. 9th floor. As soon as the doors opened, I dashed out. That was when I noticed a fat man waiting by the door. Seeing the lift doors open, the fat man stepped inside. “Don’t go in!” I shouted, “There are ghosts in there!” The fat man hesitated, looked back at me, but ultimately ignored my warning and entered the lift. Suddenly, a loud beeping sound echoed in the lift. I knew that sound only occurred when it was overloaded! There was only the fat man inside; even at his heaviest, he couldn’t be over 300 pounds—how could it be overloaded? With a confused look, he exited the lift, mumbling, “What a strange experience.” Finally encountering a living person gave me some sense of security, so I hurriedly approached him and said, “Mate, I—” “Blimey!” the fat man exclaimed, not waiting for me to finish before he turned and ran back to his flat in sheer panic. I immediately chased after him. Even though I didn’t know him, I believed he was the only person who could alleviate my fear at that moment. Besides, I always felt an inexplicable trust towards fat people, as if I thought all of them were good people. But that fat man dashed into his flat and slammed the door shut. I banged on the door, yelling “Help me,” hoping he would come out, but the door remained firmly closed. Just then, my phone suddenly rang. I quickly checked; it was Rachel texting me. “It’s too late; I can’t come alone. What about your boyfriend?” Despair washed over me as I sat on the floor. I understood why she wouldn’t come, and given I mentioned a ghost, she probably thought I was joking. Then I remembered my boyfriend, Tom. We were in a cold war, but we hadn’t officially broken up. In such a dangerous and terrifying situation, I couldn’t afford to let my pride keep me from reaching out to him first. I dialed his number, but he hung up. I was furious and scared! How could he still be angry at a time like this? I quickly sent him a text: “Tom, come save me!” He finally called back, anxious and asking what was wrong. “Tom, please come quickly! I’m so scared!” Tom reassured me, “Don’t be afraid; there’s no such thing as ghosts; it’s all in your head. I’ll be there soon; find somewhere safe to hide.” I asked, “How long will it take?” “About an hour; I’m quite far away.” “An hour?” I stammered, “I’ll be scared to death in an hour!” “Then I’ll call the police right now; just wait.” The call ended. Tom’s voice vanished, and I fell into panic again. Wait a minute! Why did Tom just say, “There’s no such thing as ghosts”? I had never mentioned to him that I was encountering a ghost! Could it be that he was pulling a prank on me to get revenge?
He had a background in computer science, and I heard he once hacked into some pretty serious websites. I thought with his skills, making the smart speaker malfunction or causing the lift to break down wouldn’t be an issue. With that thought, remembering how scared I had been, my anger flared up. Just then, Tom called again. Once I picked up, I exploded, “Are you out of your mind? It was just an argument! Do you really need to scare me like this?” I could imagine Tom on the other end of the line, laughing uncontrollably, which only made me angrier. But Tom sounded bewildered. “What’s wrong? How did I upset you?” “Was it you who messed with the smart speaker and the lift?” “What do you mean? Wait, calm down; the police will be there in ten minutes,” Tom said, sounding a bit exasperated. He actually called the police? If he was just trying to scare me, he wouldn’t have done that. I hung up with doubts and dialed 999 to verify what he said. “Hello, this is 999 emergency services…” “Hello!” I interrupted, “Did you receive an emergency call about something happening at the Oasis estate?” “Yes, I took that call; we are already on our way. The caller stated that a female resident in flat 2503 was in danger.” That female resident was me! “Yes, that’s me! Please hurry!” “We are on our way; we’ll be there within ten minutes. Please stay on the line, find somewhere safe to hide, and contact us if you’re in danger.” He actually called the police! Which meant I was truly in danger! But the police wouldn’t arrive for another ten minutes—where could I hide? I had given up hope on the fat man and banged on the door across from me, but got no response. Maybe there was no one living there. I had to try another floor. I thought about taking the stairs, but the corridor was pitch black, and the lift offered some sense of safety. So, I bravely pressed the lift button. The doors opened, and there was no one inside. I swallowed hard, closed my eyes, and stepped into the lift. I only dared to open my eyes after I heard the doors close behind me. Nothing seemed amiss in the lift. I relaxed a bit, hesitating, before pressing the button for the ground floor. The security office by the entrance seemed like the safest place! As I stepped out, the estate was eerily quiet and dim, with only scattered lights that barely illuminated the path ahead. I made my way toward the estate’s entrance. I was almost convinced I had encountered a ghost, but as I walked out and down, I hadn’t been harmed. Perhaps the ghosts in my flat and the lift were harmless. With that thought, my fear lessened somewhat. When fear stopped overwhelming me, I remembered something else. How did Tom know I was encountering a ghost? I had only told Rachel about it; if Tom knew, it could only mean they were together! What were they doing alone together in the dead of night? No wonder they weren’t answering my calls! No wonder Tom got angry and left when I said a few trivial things yesterday! My phone rang again—it was Tom calling. “How are you? Are you okay?” he asked with concern. I didn’t respond and instead asked, “How did you know I was encountering a ghost?” Tom paused for a second before saying, “Because… because Rachel’s phone card is with me; she’s been dead for two months.”
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