No one really used the East Hollow rail tunnel anymore. It had been decommissioned for decades—too narrow, too unstable. Local kids dared each other to walk through it, but most got spooked before they even reached the halfway mark. There were stories, of course. Every town has them. Whispers about a woman who roamed the tunnel, barefoot, in a tattered white dress, always just beyond the beam of your flashlight. They said if you saw her, she would follow you home.

Lena didn’t believe in those stories. She was an intern helping with a project to turn old railways into walking trails. Her job was to check out the tunnel, take pictures, and write a short report.

It was cooler inside than outside—much cooler. Her flashlight flickered once, then stayed on. She told herself the batteries were just low.

As she walked deeper into the tunnel, she noticed strange marks on the walls. Some looked like names and dates. Others were weird symbols she didn’t recognize. Then she saw something that made her stop. Scratched into the stone were the words:

“SHE WALKS WHEN YOU STOP.”

That’s when she heard footsteps behind her.

She turned around quickly. No one was there.

Lena rushed to finish her work and left as fast as she could. She didn’t look back.

That night, she looked through the pictures on her phone. Most were normal. But in one of them—the one showing the far end of the tunnel—there was a figure.

A woman. Barefoot. Wearing a white dress. Standing in the shadows.

Her face was blurry, but Lena could tell she was staring straight at the camera.

The next morning, that photo was gone.

Later, her neighbor told her she had seen someone at Lena’s window the night before. A pale woman in white, just standing there.

Lena didn’t sleep at all that night.

She tried to leave town, but her car wouldn’t start. A mechanic checked it and said nothing was wrong. She rented a different car, but the brakes failed just outside of town. The car crashed, but she wasn’t hurt.

Lena was scared, but she knew what she had to do.

She went back to the tunnel.

She brought better cameras, a flashlight, and voice recorders. She told a friend she would call when she got out.

She never did.

A search team found her flashlight at the tunnel entrance, still turned on.

Later, someone went inside and saw that the carvings on the wall had changed.

There was a new name:

“Lena Morrins – 2025”

And below it:

“She walks when you stop.”

Now people say the tunnel feels darker. Longer. If you go too far inside, you might hear footsteps that aren’t yours. Getting closer. Step by step.

Some say the woman is still there.

And she’s not alone anymore…