In their cramped, rundown apartment, Tim, Jess, and their unpredictable cat Harvey are barely hanging on—struggling with money, bad neighbors, and a building with more locked doors than answers. When Tim’s only friend vanishes under strange circumstances, the shadows in the hallway seem to deepen, and Harvey’s obsession with a mysterious "nowhere door" turns dangerously intense.
Every night brings whispers, anonymous knocks, and the creak of hinges where no one’s supposed to be. Jess—overworked, fiercely protective, and running on fumes—worries the apartment is doing more than wearing them down. Tim tries to hold it together, all while battling haunting visions, cryptic dreams, and his own unreliable mind.
But something is watching from the hallway. Something hungry, maybe even hopeful for their collapse.
Is it just the paranoia of poverty and medication—or is the real horror waiting in a place no tenant dare enter?
Step into Hallway, a claustrophobic tale of urban dread where reality warps and every closed door hides a new nightmare. Perfect for fans of slow-burn suspense, psychological horror, and the movie Barbarian, this novel turns the mundane into the monstrous and never lets you escape the echo of footsteps just beyond your sight.
Hallway will release on Amazon October 10.
Day 117
Harvey was perched on the bottom stair, just above the landing. His whiskers twitched and his tail swished. He reached out a paw to the hole in the floor for the hot water pipe, careful not to touch it. He'd learned that lesson already.
Harvey, time to come in! Tim called. His voice carried a note of warning. You're flirting with danger, bud.
Harvey didn't much care for Tim's advice, as usual. His eyes were two golden moons, staring with fathomless intensity down the hole into the first floor.
Babe! Tim called through the half-cracked apartment door. He's not coming in. Can you grab him?
Why don't you grab him? Jess called back. I'm naked.
You have a towel.
That's naked. And close the door.
Should we just leave him out there, then? He's hunting something.
The argument was settled by the creak of the front door. Tim quickly closed the door to apartment A, the one he shared with Jess and Harvey, and hustled down the twisted half-flight of stairs to put a gentle but firm hand on Harvey’s neck.
Sorry, he said to Sean, their neighbor.
It's no problem, Sean said. He closed the door with a foot. His arms held a cardboard box of old skateboard parts. Harv's a good cat.
Harvey had been disturbed by the opening of the front door. His sleek blue gray fur bristled. Then he decided whatever was happening in the hole was still of prime importance and shifted his focus to that.
I'm sorry you're going, Tim said. We really appreciate you keeping an eye out for Harvey.
Yeah, I'm sad to be going too, Sean said. He rested the box on the windowsill. But it's time.
Why are you moving? Tim asked, stroking Harvey's fur. Did you get tired of the squirrels living in the roof?
No, I don’t mind the squirrels, Sean said. He knelt and gave Harvey a little rub on the chin. I bet you like them too, don't you, little dude?
Harvey rewarded this gesture with a bite.
Harvey, you little shit, Tim said. He picked up Harvey and cradled him a moment before depositing the cat a safe distance away, two stairs down. Did he get you?
No, he didn't break the skin. Sean chuckled. It was a love bite. I'll miss you too, little dude.
Sean balanced his box on a knee while he fished for his keys, and then opened the door to apartment C, leading up to the attic.
By the way, Tim said. I’m all yours Saturday.
Thanks, dude. It’s not too much stuff.
Day 119
Not too much, as Sean imagined it, was a bed, a dresser, a table, a TV stand, multiple lava lamps, and a TV. Fortunately, the TV only had to go down one floor.
Sean said we could have it, Tim announced as he and Sean tramped it into apartment A and placed the TV on the floor. I've been wanting to get a bigger one for a while.
Jess set her magazine in her lap and arched an eyebrow.
Do we need a bigger TV? she asked.
You always need a bigger TV, Sean said.
Sean said we could also have one of his bongs, Tim said.
Thank you, Sean, but we definitely can't accept that, Jess said. She gave Tim an acid glare and then picked up her magazine.
You're in trouble, dude, Sean said, as he and Tim navigated the disassembled pieces of a couch down the twist in the stairs.
Nah, Tim said. Jess doesn't mind me smoking. She just likes to give me a hard time.
Such is the mysterious way of womenfolk.
I probably won't take the bong though.
Stop! Sean yelled. He froze with the heavy couch frame held overhead. Do you hear that?
Dude, I’m losing my grip!
Shh! Sean hissed. Listen!
Tim strained his ears but heard nothing. A few bars of Jess's humming floated down from apartment A. Can we please move? Tim said.
Sean took a step. His foot missed the stair and he fell backwards. The couch back slipped out of Tim's hand and the two of them tumbled to the ground.
Jess snapped on a pair of blue latex exam gloves and worked her hands lightly over Sean’s neck and back. She parted the mess of his dreadlocks to examine his skull.
Ooooh, ow, Sean groaned.
You're lucky you didn’t break your neck, Jess proclaimed. But this bruise is going to turn into a pretty impressive lump.
Oof, thanks, Sean said. He pulled out a pre-rolled joint and in a fluid motion lit it with his skull lighter.
That's not a good idea. Jess frowned. You could be concussed.
It helps with the pain. Oof. Sean rotated his arm in his socket and groaned.
You do you. Jess shrugged. She checked her watch. I gotta go. The bus is coming. If it’s on time for once.
Bye, hon. Tim gave Jess a peck on the cheek. Save lots of lives tonight.
Jess snorted. I’ll probably spend the night in a donut shop parking lot listening to Rick talk about big foot and Area Fifty-One. Try not to die while I'm gone.
Jess snapped off her gloves and stowed her first aid kit in her backpack and went out the front door. Through the grimy hallway windows, Tim watched her walk to the bus stop fifty feet down the block. She tossed the used gloves on the pile of trash overtaking the trash can.
Is Jess a nurse or something? Sean asked.
Paramedic, Tim said. Terrible job. Worse pay. She likes it though. Kind of.
Hmm. Sean passed Tim the joint. Tim took a puff and erupted in coughs.
Good, good. Gotta cough to get off, Sean said, slapping Tim’s back.
Wow, that hits. Tim coughed again into his elbow.
Here. Sean handed Tim a baggie full of pre-rolled joints. Your payment for helping me move.
I won't say no.
Share it with Harvey. He needs it.
You're telling me. He's been wild ever since we moved here. Scared. Twitchy. And he is obsessed with the hallway. I hope the new neighbor is as cool with him being out here as you are.
He's a good cat.
When Jess got him, I wasn’t sure if we could keep him. He was a handful. A trash cat. His foster mom's home was a zoo. She had, like, nine cats, three huge dogs, lizards. She let him eat pizza.
That's cute.
Cute, yeah. He also got fleas. We had to flea bomb our old place and wash everything. And he kept stepping in his own turds and tracking them all over the place. We'd come home and see little brown paw prints all over the bed.
Sean chuckled. You love him though.
To a point.
No, you love him.
He's a hard cat. The first night we got here, I dropped my meds and they scattered over the floor. Harvey went after them and we didn't know if he ate one. We took him to the emergency vet in a cab. It was gonna be six grand to pump his stomach. We didn't have that, so we just waited with him all night. He's lucky to be here. It was a long road. And we're lucky to find this place. It was the only place in our price range that allowed cats.
Lucky, Sean repeated. He stared out the filthy window at the sallow yellow streetlight illuminating the bus stop. He passed the joint back to Tim and stood. Finish that, he said. I have a few more things to pack up.
Tim took a greedy suck of the joint and coughed. You need a hand?
Nah. It's just small stuff.
Okay. Let me buy you a beer before you head out tomorrow.
Yeah. Thanks.
Day 120
Sean? Tim whispered.
Hmm? Jess rolled over and clamped her pillow around her head.
Do you hear that?
It's four in the morning. Let me sleep.
Sounds like someone is knocking on the door.
No one is knocking.
Tim lay awake, listening to Jess mumble in her sleep. A shadowy black blob crawled through the dark. Harvey. He jumped softly down from the perch on his cat tower, paused on the dresser, and then hopped onto the couch. A car passed on the road outside and its headlights stuttered through the curtains.
Tap, tap, tap.
There it was. Light, distinct, unmistakable taps on the apartment door. Then again.
Tap, tap, tap.
Tim swung his legs over the side of the bed and clumsily felt his way to the doorway, sliding his feet along the floor to keep from banging into anything. It was a short journey across the tiny bedroom that doubled as their living room. There, the coffee table. There, Harvey's scratching post. Then, the doormat. A line of searing yellow burned under the crack between the door and the floor. A blink of darkness broke the line. A foot. Someone standing on the other side.
Sean, Tim whispered. He placed his ear against the door and listened. No more taps. Something furry brushed his leg. Harvey pawing the wood, sticking his paws under the crack, hoping to hunt whatever was in the hallway.
Not today, idiot, Tim whispered, and blocked Harvey with his foot. Quickly, he unlocked the door and opened it just enough to slide through. Harsh light burned from a bulb high in the ceiling that had no accessible off switch. A million dead flies lay at rest in the grave in the glass fixture. No Sean. Nothing. Just the filthy brown rug. The ugly beige walls. The closet on the landing. Room B next to theirs. Room C, Sean's attic apartment. And the fake door in the wall a few steps down on the twisting stairwell. The nowhere door.
Great, Tim muttered. He put his hand on the brass knob of his apartment door.
Click.
With a creak, the door to apartment C inched open. Tim let go of the doorknob.
Sean, he whispered.
No answer.
Yo, Sean, he said louder. He could hear it now, a sound from upstairs. Snoring or … gurgling? He nudged the door open with his foot. The narrow stairwell was dark except for a hazy blue from Sean's glow-in-the-dark posters and blacklight. Tim took a step up the stairs and a floorboard let out a squeal.
Sean, man, did you knock?
No answer. Tim stared up into the fuzzy blue darkness at the top of the landing. Was that…?
Scratching behind him. Harvey, clawing at the door. The little jerk ripping the paint to shreds. Tim backed down the stairs and closed Sean's door behind him. He slid back into his apartment and grabbed Harvey with both hands to keep him from darting into the hallway.
Harvey hissed and squirmed, a ball of claws and rage. Tim carried him to the bathroom and locked him in.
You’ve sealed your fate, Tim pronounced.
What was all that about? Jess mumbled as Tim rolled into bed.
Sorry to wake you.
I was up. I heard a noise.
Me too. I think it was Sean. He got too high and left his door open again.
Typical.
You locked the door, right?
I forgot. Harvey tried to knife me. He’s really after something in that hallway.
Tim got up and locked the door. For good measure, he slid the chain lock closed too.
In the bright, cheery blue of the morning, the restless night felt like a weird dream. Tim got up before Jess and made coffee and blueberry waffles. Lured by the scent of crisp buttery batter, Jess shuffled into the galley kitchen. She blinked tired eyes and gave Tim a smile and a kiss as she accepted the mug of coffee he handed her—hot oat milk, a sprinkle of cinnamon.
She yawned and said, What even happened last night?
Just another restless night, Tim said. He blew a whisp of steam from his own mug of coffee. Did Harv wake you up? I feel like he was nibbling my hand last night.
No, I thought I heard something in the hallway.
Harvey pattered in and jumped on the card table that served as their kitchen table. He managed to stick his whiskers in the batter and knock over the French press before Jess could wrangle him to the floor.
When the waffles had been consumed and the dishes washed and dried and put away, Tim checked his phone. He tapped out a message and then frowned and glanced at the stove clock.
I feel kind of weird, Tim said. Sean’s not answering my texts.
He probably just slept in, Jess said.
It's almost noon and he's moving out today.
You two were smoking last night and he probably went up and sucked his black hole bong or whatever after.
Gravity bong.
Whatever. The thing that makes you super stoned.
It’s just a two-liter bottle in a bucket. You put the weed in the little cap in the top, light it, and then lift it out of the water a little. That creates a vacuum and draws the smoke out. Then you take the cap off, put your mouth on the nozzle, and push the bottle down. That forces the smoke into your lungs.
Jess's eyes narrowed dangerously. The coffee cup hovered under her pursed lips.
How do you know all that? she asked.
I…watched him use it.
Babe, it is so not a good idea for you to be getting stoned on your meds. A joint is bad enough, but smoking gravity bongs now?
You don't even know what that means.
Oh, I know exactly what it means, thank you. But I don't need a scientific breakdown to know that if Sean does something, that something gets you super stoned and you cannot smoke as much as Sean.
Can we not have this fight again?
I’m sorry? This is a fight? When I remind you that you are predisposed to psychosis and that weed is definitely one hundred per cent factually proven forever to cause psychosis in certain people.
The studies don't really show if it causes or just exposes pre-existing psychosis.
Is that distinction sounding meaningful to you? It's uncontrolled polypharmacy. You’re mixing meds and you don’t know how they’ll interact.
Sean calls that crossfading.
How are you so blasé about this? Jess’s coffee cup hit the table and the coffee leapt up from the force. Did you ever think maybe I don't want to deal with…? she trailed off.
Tim rose from the table and walked into the living room bedroom. Jess heard the door slam. She picked up her coffee and blew on it, though it was already cold.
Shit, she said.
Tim walked around the neighborhood. It was an early May day, blessedly cool after a week of unseasonable heat. A pollen and flower scent coasted in on every deep breath he took to calm himself.
His phone pinged with a text from Jess. Hey, come back, babe. I'm sorry.
He texted back, No, I'm an idiot, you're right.
Wanna watch trash TV and eat ice cream?
Tim booked it back to the apartment building. Their new home looked oddly grim in the bright day. It was an old Victorian mansion that had been converted into units, then an office, and then back into units again. The rooms bulged at uncomfortable angles, walls and doors and windows never placed where you'd want or expect. The windows of the empty first floor were boarded up and tagged with graffiti.
Sean's old hatchback, which had been parked on the street out front for easy loading, was now gone.
What the hell? Tim muttered, checking his phone again. No calls or messages.
He walked over to the cracked concrete patio with the trash cans and looked in the bottom hallway window. Harvey was perched on the sill, looking back at him.
Hi, bud, Tim called through the cobwebbed glass and waved. He walked back to the side entrance that led to the three apartments and opened the door, blocking the entrance with his foot to keep Harvey from running out. But Harvey was back on the floor, staring down the hole that led to the first floor. His silky body shivered with tension and focus.
What's down there, bud? Tim inquired. He peered over Harvey, trying to see into the little hole. But all he could make out was a glimpse of grimy concrete wall. You find a rat?
Harvey didn't answer.
Jess met Tim at the top of the stairs with a kiss and a lingering hug. They spent the rest of the day entwined under a blanket on the couch, passing back and forth a pint of cookies and cream ice cream, and watching daytime television.
These two are never going to work. Jess sucked on the spoon and then aimed it at the couple on the TV. I just don't think she's into him.
He's nice though.
He's really sweet. But I think she's taller than him. And she also seems really surfacey.
We'll see. How much better is this TV than our old one?
It's incredible. You were right. I can't imagine we ever used that dinky little TV. What did you do with it, by the way?
I put it out front on the curb. Someone took it already. Tim stole a glance at his phone.
Jess muted the TV and asked, He still hasn't texted you?
No, and his car is gone. He ghosted me.
Maybe he got towed. He was parked in a two-hour spot.
Hmm. Yeah. Maybe.
Uh, what was that look?
What look?
That look you just gave me.
I gave no looks.
Oh my God. Jess angrily turned off the TV and yanked the blanket over to her side of the couch. We are fighting now.
What, why?
You think I saw Sean move out and didn't tell you.
Tim held up his hands in a pacifying gesture, and said, You were here all day. Are you sure you didn't see or hear anything?
Why wouldn't I tell you if I did?
You never liked us hanging out.
I had no problem with you sitting around playing skateboard games and watching edgy cartoons. I didn't like you getting stoned on your meds. Look, it's even making you paranoid.
I can't believe we're back to this.
Jess stood and stomped to the apartment door and her footsteps rattled the windowsills. She flung open the door and grimaced as she stepped onto the filthy brown carpet with her bare feet. She banged on the door to apartment C.
Hey, Sean, you up there? We need your help settling an argument. Did you move out in the middle of the night or sneak out while I was in the shower? She grabbed the handle and rattled it, trying to open the door. It was locked. Then she stopped and pressed her ear to the door, as if waiting for something to happen.
Harvey padded up the stairs to see what all the commotion was. He sniffed at the bottom of the door and then wandered back down the stairs.
Tim let himself sink halfway down the doorway. He clutched his stomach and said, Oh man, that sucks.
I'm sorry, hon, Jess said. She rustled Tim’s hair and patted his shoulder.
I feel kind of sick. I thought we were friends.
Honestly, he was weird. I'm glad he's gone.
I see that now. I should have listened to you.
He was always up moving around in the hallway in the middle of the night. Sometimes I’d come back from a shift and he’d just be sitting there staring out the window. It creeped me out knowing there was just that thin door between him and our bedroom.
I love you forever and ever and ever for this cat story. Tough cats are the best cats. All good things. <4
This is off to an interesting start.