Ava Voss: The Sultry Midnight Wrestler Who Vanished Into Darkness

 

Ohio, 11:48 PM.

The wrestling gym was supposed to be empty by now. But for Ava Voss, the sultry underground queen of the ring, the clock meant nothing. She trained in the shadows — her crimson gear hugging every curve, muscles glistening with sweat under the flickering fluorescent lights. The late hours were hers alone.

She tightened her grip on the ropes, took a deep breath, and whispered her mantra:

"If they don’t tap... I don’t stop."

Tonight, however, felt different. The usual echo of her footsteps was absent. The air grew colder. Ava’s reflection in the cracked locker mirror caught her eye—but it moved a split second slower than she did. Then, it smiled. Without her.

She blinked hard. The reflection snapped back to normal.

Too tired, she thought.

She made her way to the ring, the sound of her boots dull against the gym floor.

The lights dimmed — not all at once, but one by one, as if the darkness was closing in. Only a single spotlight remained above the ring, casting eerie shadows across the canvas.

Then she heard it. The unmistakable ding of the bell.

But the gym was empty.

Ava’s pulse quickened, but her confidence held. She stepped inside the ring, daring the unknown.

"Come out, coward," she whispered.

Suddenly, the ropes creaked. A tall figure, silent and masked, climbed in. No footsteps preceded him. No voice. Just the cold, unforgiving presence.

They locked up, muscles straining. Ava landed a sharp knee strike, but her opponent barely flinched. His grip was ice-cold — unnatural.

Then the mask tore away.

Beneath it... her own face stared back.

Her scream echoed through the empty gym. She scrambled out of the ring, but the doors were gone. The gym morphed into a shadowy labyrinth — walls melting into darkness, the bleachers swallowed by silence.

Her double smiled, stepping out of the ropes to taunt her.

“You wrestled me in every nightmare,” it hissed, voice dripping venom.

“But tonight, it’s real.”

Ava’s heart hammered as they clashed again, each strike carrying the weight of her own fears. She found strength in desperation and finally landed a spinning heel kick, sending the doppelgänger crashing into the corner.

Breathing hard, she turned to leave — but thick, shadowy ropes shot out of the darkness, wrapping tight around her waist.

The ring was alive.

Pulling her back in.

The last thing Ava felt was cold metal pressing against her skin, the ropes tightening like a noose.

Her scream was swallowed by the night.

---

3:00 AM.

The janitor arrived for his morning sweep.

All he found was silence. A lone red wrestling outfit draped over the corner post, smeared with fresh lipstick.

No Ava.

Only a note, scrawled in hurried ink:

> “I wrestle at midnight. Win or die.”

No one knows what happened to Ava Voss that night. But the legend of the Midnight Wrestler grew — whispered in underground circles, daring anyone brave enough to step into the ring after dark.

Would you?