The rumors had always been ridiculous. Inane whispers in the hallways, passed between nervous freshman and wide-eyed sophomores. A monster in locker 213. Tentacles. Purple tentacles that sought out the lonely, the lingering, the last ones in the hall. You, of course, didn't believe a word of it.

"A tentacle monster in a locker?" you'd scoffed to your best friend. "Seriously? People will believe anything."

Now, here you were, the library doors clicking shut behind you, the setting sun casting long shadows down the deserted hallway. You were stuck finishing your history project, a ridiculously detailed diorama of the French Revolution. You just wanted to go home.

As you walked, you realized you were approaching that locker. 213. You rolled your eyes, a dramatic sigh escaping your lips. This was absurd. You picked up your pace, wanting to be past it, away from the silly stories and the lingering unease they stirred even in your logical mind.

That's when it happened.

A sudden, slimy pressure wrapped around your ankle. Your breath hitched. Before you could even turn to see what had grabbed you, something thick and slick clamped over your mouth.

A long, purple tentacle.

Terror, cold and sharp, pierced through your disbelief. This wasn't a joke. This wasn't a story. This was real.

You thrashed, trying to pry the tentacle from your mouth, but its grip was surprisingly strong. You were being pulled. Pulled inexorably towards locker 213.

With a sickening lurch, you were pulled inside. The world tilted, and the harsh fluorescent lights of the hallway vanished as the locker door slammed shut with a resounding clang.

You were no longer in a locker. It was an impossible space. An endless expanse of writhing, purple tentacles. They pulsed with a faint, internal light, illuminating the grotesque chamber. Some constricted your movement. Others, bolder, slid across your skin, exploring your shape with disconcerting curiosity.