We never should’ve gone in.
It was supposed to be a quick detour—just a bathroom break during our hike through the woods behind the old quarry. The sun was setting, and the trail signs had long since disappeared. That’s when we found it: a crumbling stone structure half-swallowed by ivy, with a faded sign that read “Public Convenience – Est. 1897.”
There were five of us:
Maya, the skeptic, armed with sarcasm and a flashlight.
Tom, the horror enthusiast, already filming for his YouTube channel.
Jules, the anxious one, clutching a bottle of hand sanitizer like a holy relic.
Ravi, the prankster, who thought everything was hilarious.
And me—Sam—the one who suggested we go in.
The door creaked open with a groan that sounded suspiciously like a warning. Inside, the air was thick and damp. The mirrors were fogged, though the air was dry. The stalls stood like tombstones, silent and foreboding.
Tom whispered, “This is perfect. Haunted loo content is trending.”
“Let’s not summon anything with unfinished business,” Jules muttered.
Ravi laughed. “What’s it gonna do, flush us into the underworld?”
Trying to lighten the mood, I said, “Okay, if there’s a spirit here, give us one knock for yes, two for no.”
We waited.
Plop.
We froze.
“That wasn’t a knock,” Maya said.
Plop. Plop.
Tom’s camera was already rolling. “It’s communicating… in toilet code.”
Then came the third sound.
Fffffrrrrrrtttttt.
A long, echoing fart that shook the pipes and rattled the stall doors.
“That’s a warning,” Jules whispered, backing toward the exit.
But the door slammed shut.
We were trapped.
Chapter 2: The Flushening
The lights flickered. A low gurgle echoed from the pipes, like something ancient stirring in the plumbing.
Suddenly, the stalls burst open—one by one—revealing nothing but swirling mist and the faint scent of lavender and doom.
A voice echoed from the walls:
“WHO DARES DISTURB THE BOWL OF ETERNAL BURDEN?”
Ravi screamed. Maya swore and the trauma triggered her iritable bowel syndrome . Tom was ecstatic.
“We come in peace!” I shouted. “We just needed to pee!”
The voice growled:
“THEN YOU SHALL FACE… THE TRIAL OF THE THREE TABS.”
A glowing urinal lit up. A sink began to drip rhythmically. A hand dryer roared to life, blasting hot air like a dragon’s breath.
Tom read the inscription above the sink:
“Cleanse thy hands, lest ye be flushed into oblivion.”
We each had to complete a task:
Maya solved a riddle etched into the mirror using steam.
Jules had to balance a bar of soap on a spinning faucet.
Ravi was forced to apologize to the ghost for mocking its plumbing.
When it was my turn, the toilet lid opened slowly, revealing a glowing roll of toilet paper. I had to unravel it without tearing a single square.
I succeeded.
The ghost moaned:
“YOU HAVE PASSED… FOR NOW.”
The door creaked open.
Chapter 3: The Final Stall
We ran. But the forest had changed. The path twisted back toward the lavatory again and again, no matter which way we turned.
“We’re cursed,” Jules said. “We’ll never escape.”
Tom checked his footage. “Guys… the ghost’s reflection is in every mirror shot. And it’s getting closer.”
We returned to the lavatory one last time. The ghost was waiting.
“YOU SEEK FREEDOM?” it asked.
“THEN ANSWER THIS: WHAT IS THE TRUE PURPOSE OF THE PUBLIC LAVATORY?”
We looked at each other.
“To relieve ourselves?” Maya guessed.
“To reflect on life?” Jules offered.
“To hide from responsibilities?” Ravi shrugged.
I stepped forward. “To remind us that no matter who we are, we all sit on the same seat in the end.”
Silence.
Then… a single, solemn plop.
The ghost sighed.
“YOU MAY GO.”
The door opened. The forest was normal again. The sun was rising.
We never spoke of it again. But sometimes, when I pass a public restroom and hear a faint echo in the pipes, I wonder…
Is the Porcelain Phantom still watching?
Matin Hickman©July2025
