The first scream echoed through the catacombs just after my flashlight died.

I froze beneath Little Saint James, one hand against the wet stone wall, listening to the sound bounce through the tunnels below the island. It wasn’t human anymore by the time it stopped.

I should’ve never gone down there.

The entrance had been hidden beneath an old storage shed near the cliffs. I found it half-open, rusted chains snapped on the ground like someone had escaped in a hurry. Curiosity pulled me in. Pride kept me going deeper.

Now I was lost.

The tunnels twisted like veins under the island. Narrow hallways opened into flooded chambers filled with broken chairs, collapsed shelves, and strange markings carved into the walls. Every few minutes I heard movement behind me—bare feet splashing through shallow water.

I started running.

My shoulder slammed against stone as I turned corners too fast. The air grew colder. Somewhere ahead, a metal door rattled violently.

BANG.

BANG.

BANG.

I reached it breathless and grabbed the handle. Locked.

Another scream erupted behind me, much closer this time.

I spun my flashlight toward the sound. The beam flickered weakly, revealing a figure standing ankle-deep in black water at the end of the tunnel.

Tall. Motionless.

Watching me.

“Hey!” I shouted, my voice cracking. “I’m trying to get out!”

The figure tilted its head.

Then it charged.

The sound of splashing footsteps exploded through the corridor. I ran without thinking, my shoes slipping across wet stone while rusted pipes scraped my shoulders. The tunnel narrowed until I had to squeeze sideways through the darkness.

The footsteps kept coming.

I burst into a circular chamber and nearly fell into a deep pit in the center of the floor. Chains hung from the ceiling above it, swaying slightly like someone had just touched them.

My flashlight died completely.

For one second, everything went silent.

Then I heard breathing beside me.

Not mine.

A hand wrapped around my wrist.

Ice cold.

I yanked free and blindly jumped across the pit, crashing hard onto the other side. Behind me, something fell into the darkness below, screaming the entire way down.

The catacombs shook.

Dust rained from the ceiling as a distant door groaned open somewhere ahead.

Moonlight.

I stumbled toward it, half crawling, half running, until cold ocean air hit my face.

I escaped the tunnels just before sunrise.

But sometimes at night, I still wake up hearing wet footsteps outside my bedroom door.