null out carpet and stained

    A liminal space of an endless, dimly lit corridor, stretching unnaturally far. The old, yellowish lights flicker inconsistently, casting elongated shadows along the worn-out carpet and stained, featureless walls. A feeling of wrongness lingers in the air—something about this place feels familiar, yet entirely unnatural. The further you look down the corridor, the darker it gets, the walls subtly bending, as if the space itself is warping. The sound of your own breath and footsteps feel too loud, amplified in the thick, unsettling silence. Then, you see it. Nestled in the deepest shadows at the far end of the hall, a grin emerges. Not just a grin—a massive, inhuman smile, too wide, too sharp, gleaming unnaturally against the darkness. It is not attached to a face. It simply floats there, watching. And with every flicker of the dying lights… it moves closer.
    A liminal space of an endless, dimly lit corridor, stretching unnaturally far. The old, yellowish lights flicker inconsistently, casting elongated shadows along the worn-out carpet and stained, featureless walls. A feeling of wrongness lingers in the air—something about this place feels familiar, yet entirely unnatural. The further you look down the corridor, the darker it gets, the walls subtly bending, as if the space itself is warping. The sound of your own breath and footsteps feel too loud, amplified in the thick, unsettling silence. Then, you see it. Nestled in the deepest shadows at the far end of the hall, a grin emerges. Not just a grin—a massive, inhuman smile, too wide, too sharp, gleaming unnaturally against the darkness. It is not attached to a face. It simply floats there, watching. And with every flicker of the dying lights… it moves closer.
    A haunting, abandoned corridor in an old building, dimly lit by flickering, malfunctioning lights. The walls are cracked, peeling, and stained with dark, uneven patches that give the impression of something decayed. The floor is covered with cracked tiles and faded, torn carpet, but some areas are unnervingly smooth, as though worn down by something unknown. At the end of the corridor, a door stands ajar, revealing only darkness beyond, an oppressive void that seems to swallow up the light. Faint, distorted shadows seem to stretch unnaturally along the walls, casting eerie, warped shapes. The air is thick with an almost palpable tension, as if something might emerge from the darkness at any moment, yet there’s no sign of life. A few abandoned objects—an overturned chair, a broken picture frame—lie scattered across the floor, abandoned carelessly, giving the room the feeling of a place left in haste. The atmosphere feels cold, suffocating, and wrong. There’s no noise, no movement, just an overwhelming sense of something being off, as though the space itself is alive, waiting. The entire scene is bathed in dull, muted tones, with dark corners that seem to swallow up the light, giving it an overwhelming sense of emptiness and a deeply unsettling feeling of being watched.
    A haunting, abandoned corridor in an old building, dimly lit by flickering, malfunctioning lights. The walls are cracked, peeling, and stained with dark, uneven patches that give the impression of something decayed. The floor is covered with cracked tiles and faded, torn carpet, but some areas are unnervingly smooth, as though worn down by something unknown. At the end of the corridor, a door stands ajar, revealing only darkness beyond, an oppressive void that seems to swallow up the light. Faint, distorted shadows seem to stretch unnaturally along the walls, casting eerie, warped shapes. The air is thick with an almost palpable tension, as if something might emerge from the darkness at any moment, yet there’s no sign of life. A few abandoned objects—an overturned chair, a broken picture frame—lie scattered across the floor, abandoned carelessly, giving the room the feeling of a place left in haste. The atmosphere feels cold, suffocating, and wrong. There’s no noise, no movement, just an overwhelming sense of something being off, as though the space itself is alive, waiting. The entire scene is bathed in dull, muted tones, with dark corners that seem to swallow up the light, giving it an overwhelming sense of emptiness and a deeply unsettling feeling of being watched.
    A nightmarish, endless hotel corridor, impossibly long and distorted, stretching into pitch-black nothingness. The air is thick, humid, and reeks of decay and something foul, like rotting meat left too long in the dark. The dim, flickering fluorescent lights overhead cast unnatural shadows that seem to move on their own. The stained, sagging carpet is damp, imprinted with footprints that shouldn’t exist—some human, some… not. The numbered doors are all wrong—twisted, half-melted, some leading into infinite voids, others barely cracked open with a sickly, pulsating red glow leaking out. A distant, static-filled television flickers behind one, playing distorted images of screaming, faceless figures. The walls bulge and breathe, as if the entire structure is alive, watching. A disfigured, elongated figure stands at the far end of the hall, too tall, too thin, its head crooked at an unnatural angle. It doesn't move, but you feel it staring. The security cameras in the corners are following your every step, the red lights blinking erratically. From the vents above, a thick, viscous black liquid drips down, pooling on the floor, and something inside them whispers your name in a voice that isn't yours. The elevator doors further down are wide open, but the shaft is just… empty. No cables, no bottom, just infinite, swirling blackness. From deep within, something claws at the walls, climbing upward. And then, behind you, a door clicks open.
    A massive, decaying hotel corridor stretches endlessly, dimly lit by flickering yellow lights. The wallpaper is peeling, revealing dark stains underneath. The floor is covered in a damp, moldy carpet, with strange, unidentifiable shapes pressed into it, as if something had crawled through. The numbered doors are misaligned, some impossibly small, others too large, and many are slightly open, revealing utter darkness inside. A red EXIT sign at the far end glows weakly, but the corridor never seems to end. The air is thick, heavy with the scent of mildew and something metallic, like rust… or blood. A strange, humanoid silhouette stands at the edge of the dim light, facing away, unmoving. The security cameras are turned toward you, watching. A low, droning hum echoes through the empty hallway, as if the building itself were breathing. The sense of dread is overwhelming.
    A massive, decaying hotel corridor stretches endlessly, dimly lit by flickering yellow lights. The wallpaper is peeling, revealing dark stains underneath. The floor is covered in a damp, moldy carpet, with strange, unidentifiable shapes pressed into it, as if something had crawled through. The numbered doors are misaligned, some impossibly small, others too large, and many are slightly open, revealing utter darkness inside. A red EXIT sign at the far end glows weakly, but the corridor never seems to end. The air is thick, heavy with the scent of mildew and something metallic, like rust… or blood. A strange, humanoid silhouette stands at the edge of the dim light, facing away, unmoving. The security cameras are turned toward you, watching. A low, droning hum echoes through the empty hallway, as if the building itself were breathing. The sense of dread is overwhelming.
    A nightmarish, endless hotel corridor, impossibly long and distorted, stretching into pitch-black nothingness. The air is thick, humid, and reeks of decay and something foul, like rotting meat left too long in the dark. The dim, flickering fluorescent lights overhead cast unnatural shadows that seem to move on their own. The stained, sagging carpet is damp, imprinted with footprints that shouldn’t exist—some human, some… not. The numbered doors are all wrong—twisted, half-melted, some leading into infinite voids, others barely cracked open with a sickly, pulsating red glow leaking out. A distant, static-filled television flickers behind one, playing distorted images of screaming, faceless figures. The walls bulge and breathe, as if the entire structure is alive, watching. A disfigured, elongated figure stands at the far end of the hall, too tall, too thin, its head crooked at an unnatural angle. It doesn't move, but you feel it staring. The security cameras in the corners are following your every step, the red lights blinking erratically. From the vents above, a thick, viscous black liquid drips down, pooling on the floor, and something inside them whispers your name in a voice that isn't yours. The elevator doors further down are wide open, but the shaft is just… empty. No cables, no bottom, just infinite, swirling blackness. From deep within, something claws at the walls, climbing upward. And then, behind you, a door clicks open.
    A haunting, abandoned corridor in an old building, dimly lit by flickering, malfunctioning lights. The walls are cracked, peeling, and stained with dark, uneven patches that give the impression of something decayed. The floor is covered with cracked tiles and faded, torn carpet, but some areas are unnervingly smooth, as though worn down by something unknown. At the end of the corridor, a door stands ajar, revealing only darkness beyond, an oppressive void that seems to swallow up the light. Faint, distorted shadows seem to stretch unnaturally along the walls, casting eerie, warped shapes. The air is thick with an almost palpable tension, as if something might emerge from the darkness at any moment, yet there’s no sign of life. A few abandoned objects—an overturned chair, a broken picture frame—lie scattered across the floor, abandoned carelessly, giving the room the feeling of a place left in haste. The atmosphere feels cold, suffocating, and wrong. There’s no noise, no movement, just an overwhelming sense of something being off, as though the space itself is alive, waiting. The entire scene is bathed in dull, muted tones, with dark corners that seem to swallow up the light, giving it an overwhelming sense of emptiness and a deeply unsettling feeling of being watched.
    A liminal space of an endless, dimly lit corridor, stretching unnaturally far. The old, yellowish lights flicker inconsistently, casting elongated shadows along the worn-out carpet and stained, featureless walls. A feeling of wrongness lingers in the air—something about this place feels familiar, yet entirely unnatural. The further you look down the corridor, the darker it gets, the walls subtly bending, as if the space itself is warping. The sound of your own breath and footsteps feel too loud, amplified in the thick, unsettling silence. Then, you see it. Nestled in the deepest shadows at the far end of the hall, a grin emerges. Not just a grin—a massive, inhuman smile, too wide, too sharp, gleaming unnaturally against the darkness. It is not attached to a face. It simply floats there, watching. And with every flicker of the dying lights… it moves closer.
    A liminal space of an endless, dimly lit corridor, stretching unnaturally far. The old, yellowish lights flicker inconsistently, casting elongated shadows along the worn-out carpet and stained, featureless walls. A feeling of wrongness lingers in the air—something about this place feels familiar, yet entirely unnatural. The further you look down the corridor, the darker it gets, the walls subtly bending, as if the space itself is warping. The sound of your own breath and footsteps feel too loud, amplified in the thick, unsettling silence. Then, you see it. Nestled in the deepest shadows at the far end of the hall, a grin emerges. Not just a grin—a massive, inhuman smile, too wide, too sharp, gleaming unnaturally against the darkness. It is not attached to a face. It simply floats there, watching. And with every flicker of the dying lights… it moves closer.

      FLUX

    • Schnell - flux_schnell.sft