Three students slip into an abandoned dental clinic and uncover signs that Professor F’s obsession with perfect oral hygiene never truly ended.
The town had already surrendered to sleep, but the old dental clinic still seemed awake. A cold mist pressed against its cracked windows, and the sign above the door swung softly, as if someone had just passed beneath it. Magda stopped at the bottom of the steps, the beam from her torch shaking once in her hand. Adam and Jagoda hovered close behind her, both of them silent now in a way that meant they were already regretting the idea.
The clinic had been empty for years, yet rumours clung to it with unnatural stubbornness. Everyone in town knew the story of Professor F, the man who had built his life around the promise of perfect oral hygiene and then vanished without a trace. Some said he had gone mad. Others said he had gone underground. Magda pushed open the door, and the stale air inside smelled faintly of dust, disinfectant, and something sharp beneath it, a cold trace of peppermint. Faded educational posters hung along the corridor. One, peeling at the corners, caught her eye: Let your toothbrush be your shield and floss be your sword!
Their footsteps sounded too loud in the narrow hallway. The torch beam slid over a row of white hooded robes standing motionless at the far end, each one clutching an oversized toothbrush that flashed back an unnatural gleam. For a second, none of them moved. Then one of the figures turned its head.
The whisper that followed was almost lost in the hum of the dark: "Only those who take care of their teeth can pass on..."
Adam tightened his grip on Jagoda’s hand. Magda forced herself to take one step forward, though the air had gone thin and brittle around her. Then, from somewhere deep in the building, a soft giggle broke the silence. A second later came a sound like tiny feet skittering across the floor, as if someone had just scattered sugar through the corridor, and the door at the end of the hall began to open by itself.