The Hallway

  The following is a transcript of the statement of 32-year-old Doria Mateo. Statement was recorded on December 9th, 2004, at the Flanneled Columbine Educational Institution, London.

  It’s ridiculous, I gotta admit, fearing something as simple as a hallway. But you have to understand—this was impossible. Based on everything I know and everything I have learned, it’s impossible, and I need to get it out of my head. I need someone else to hear it, someone else to understand that what I experienced was real. Any time I tell them what happened, they all just… look at me the same way. More than likely, you’ll give me a weird look too, but I just hope to God that maybe you’ll at least sympathize with me.

  I work at Harvey Paper Mill, in the shipping and receiving department. I track the dates we’ll be receiving material, which we’ll then send over to be treated. It’s an easy job and pays decent enough cash for me and my boyfriend. However, the one complaint we always had was that the breakroom was falling apart. It had leaks in the ceiling when it rained, there’d be a foul odor that we were never able to pinpoint where it came from, and the floors were all cracked tiles. It was downright terrible, and we knew the factory had to have decent enough money to replace it. So, we kept making a stink about it, and I guess one day it finally went through to our supervisors.

  About two months ago, we received contract work from a renovation company. They were called Dashiel Renovations. I remember that because one time my friend James saw one of their workers running inside and made the joke “he must be the titular Dash.” I don’t know much about them, but over the course of the next month, our break room was closed off, and we were given a temporary one outside. Wasn’t the worst thing ever, being that we were just getting into fall, so it was decent weather out, but after a month some of us were really missing our breakroom.

  When our new breakroom opened, it seemed normal at first—just some new appliances, new floors, no leaks or bad smells, and I was living for it. Then over the course of a week, I began noticing something. Every time I go to the breakroom, it would be slightly further away. I don’t know how, but slowly but surely a hallway was growing and pushing the room further and further away. There wasn’t anything in it, it was just a blank hallway from the door to the actual breakroom. I tried telling my mates this, and they gave me the most confused face. Next week passes, and it’s a full meter. I try telling them this, and they give me that same damn face as before. So, I decided I’d wait for them to walk through it. Maybe they just didn’t notice it, and they would the minute they saw it was now a meter in length.

  But I swear to you… I watched as they just walked right on through that meter length like it wasn’t even there. And the thing is, I remember vividly walking through that hallway with James, having a conversation, and the minute he entered that hallway, he stopped talking, looked dead ahead, and marched. And then the second he got to the actual breakroom; he acted like normal. Whenever we were done in there, I tried standing in his way. I was able to hold him in place, and he just… kept walking in place, even when I held him. I didn’t know what was going on and it didn’t make sense.

  The next week it was borderline insanity—it grew to five meters. I was too terrified of that hallway to even try to enter the breakroom. So, I took no breaks, and ended up getting in trouble with my supervisor for not taking a break. When he asked why I didn’t take a break, I told him that it was because of the hallway. I felt silly saying that, but it was true. He gave me a confused look, and I repeated to him; “the hallway! The hallway from door to the breakroom!” He asked me to show him the hallway, and I did, taking him to the same door that I’ve been too terrified to enter, and swung it open, revealing the 5-meter-long hallway to him. I even stood in the middle of the hallway to prove it was real.

  But from the doorway, he said that he didn’t see a hallway. That there wasn’t anything there at all, and that I was standing in the middle of the breakroom.

  That didn’t make sense. I didn’t understand. I almost broke down into tears at that moment, so confused and honestly scared about the whole thing. He sent me home, concerned that I may be having some kind of a breakdown. When I got home, I told my boyfriend what was happening, and although he was clearly concerned about me and listened to what I said, I could tell from his eyes that he too didn’t believe me about the hallway.

  I was gone from work for three days last week and came back Thursday. I remember everyone being so careful with me, not wanting to give me too much work. I guess word spread around that I had almost cried in front of my boss. It was the easiest day of work in my life, and normally I’d be happy about that. But I remember the one thing I dreaded the entire time was that hallway. James was there with me the whole day, acting almost like I was made of glass and almost doing everything for me. Eventually, it came time to take our break. I told James adamantly that I wasn’t going back into that breakroom, to which he told me to calm down, saying that he’d happily just eat outside with me. He left to go get his lunch, and I ended up sitting near the parking lot eating my lunch.

  And I waited for James to come back. And waited. And waited. Soon, our break ended, and I had to get back to work. I knew James was a bit of a flake, but he was gone the entire day. The next day, James didn’t turn up either. I approached my boss about it and asked where James was. My boss looked at me confused. I said his full name; James Buckland, who works in Shipping and Receiving with me.

  And all he said in response was “We don’t have anyone named James working here.”

  I felt my heart sink in that moment. I ran away from him, and ran towards the breakroom, and swung open the door. And the hallway from the door to the breakroom was no longer one meter, or five meters. It was now a hallway of white tile with grey paint enough lightbulbs to make it evenly lit for as far as my eye could see. I couldn’t see the end in sight, nor could I see any remnant of James.

  I ended up quitting that job that day, and I’ve been locked in my room since. I told my mom about this, and although she didn’t believe me, she told me to come to you. To tell you my story. I don’t know what you’ll do with this, or even if you believe me. I just… I needed to tell someone. James was a good mate of mine; I had known him since we were in high school. I don’t believe that he’s dead or something but… not even his wife seems to know who I’m talking about. And if the people you love don’t even remember you then… were you even alive?

End of transcript.

Any and all attempt to contact Ms. Mateo has been unsuccessful, ranging from ignoring emails or calls to requests for no further contact. Research into James Buckland also is a dead end, with Ms. Mateo’s account of his disappearance being accurate, as his back account and vehicle were both shown to cease usage on the day he disappeared, December 2nd, 2004. However, research into Harvey Paper Mill shows that it ended up shutting down in February 2005, as any and all product flow ended up ceasing in January for unexplainable reasoning.