The Backrooms

📅 Published on May 28, 2020

“The Backrooms”

Written by Lucretia Vastea
Edited by Craig Groshek
Thumbnail Art by Craig Groshek
Narrated by N/A

Copyright Statement: Unless explicitly stated, all stories published on CreepypastaStories.com are the property of (and under copyright to) their respective authors, and may not be narrated or performed, adapted to film, television or audio mediums, republished in a print or electronic book, reposted on any other website, blog, or online platform, or otherwise monetized without the express written consent of its author(s).

🎧 Available Audio Adaptations: None Available

ESTIMATED READING TIME — 18 minutes

Rating: 9.75/10. From 4 votes.
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Scratch scratch scratch scratch scratch

“Hello?”

Scratch scratch scratch scratch

“Hello? Somebody? Anybody?!”

Scratch scratch scratch scratch

“Can anybody hear me?! Please! Please, get me out of here!”

Casey stirred. He couldn’t see anything, but he could hear her loud and clear.

“Dove? Is that you?”

Of course it was. Her voice was unmistakable.

“Case?” Scratch scratch scratch scratchCasey! Where are you?!”

“I’m right here, Dove! Follow my voice!”

Casey was shaking in his sleep. Lucidity was creeping in, but the nightmare’s grip was strong.

“I can’t, I’m stuck!” Scratch scratch scratch scratch “Casey, you have to get me out of here! Say you’ll get me out of here!”

Casey’s heart was hammering inside his head, but he couldn’t hear it over the scratches.

“Out of where, Dove? Where are you stuck?!”

He knew that it was just a dream. Dove was dead. Not only that, but it had been an open casket funeral and Dove’s coffin was padded everywhere. The scratches weren’t making any sense, so they couldn’t be anything other than a figment of his imagination – as was the scared voice of his dead friend.

Scratch scratch scratch scratch

“The Backrooms, Casey. I’m stuck in the Backrooms.”

Casey woke up drenched in sweat. Again.

* * * * * *

It had to have been the sound of heavy rain hitting the lacquered wood – not the general sobbing, nor the priest straining his voice over the wrath of mother nature. It couldn’t have been car noises or the like, that’s for sure. The cemetery was nowhere near traffic-ridden streets. No. It was the rain falling on the coffin lid. That had to be the sound that made Casey feel so uneasy.

“Dove’s grace was admired by classmates and teachers alike…”

Casey pressed his lips together and shook his head absent-mindedly. Grace. Grace, of all things, was brought up at Dove’s funeral. What had Dove been like? Smart, yes. Strong, very. Beautiful, without a shadow of a doubt, but graceful? Her back was always drooping like she was the human version of a question mark and she never saw a problem in playing soccer wearing a skirt.

If Dove’s spirit was present, the likelihood of her face-palming herself, was staggering. Casey chuckled to himself at that mental image. His father smacked him over the head.

“Pull yourself together.”, he hissed from between clenched teeth.

Casey was very well put together. He was so well put-together, that he was the only one to recognize the eulogy for the garbage it was. Whoever wrote it, relied too much on their google search. Casey eyed Dove’s mother. The woman was devastated, surely, but this wasn’t a funeral for her daughter, but a funeral for the daughter she wished she had.

The rain was unrelenting. Casey pictured Dove standing beside the big oak tree, ten feet from where he was, dressed in her maroon overalls, mocking every word coming out of the priests’ mouth. Dove had been the funniest person Casey ever knew – mostly on Monday mornings when she would reenact the Sunday service she had attended the day prior. Dove was not like those other kids who were forced to go to church because their parents said so, oh no. The Sunday service was her favorite time of the week. Not only would she listen carefully to everything the priest said, so she could debunk it later, but she also paid close attention to the other people attending. Dove loved calling out hypocrisy, and nothing quenched her thirst as churchgoers did. Although selectively, she thrived on gossip.

Theatre critic. Every hour Dove spent studying, every time she opened a word document to write something that wasn’t school-related, every time their DnD squad would talk about dreams and aspirations, Dove would mention, she’ll be a theatre critic someday. Grace? Theatre critics are not graceful. Grace is surrounded by pastel colors and Dove was as rich in pigment as Indian ink.

Why didn’t the priest mention that instead? That her biggest passion was writing and that she had more drive than quicksilver in a sauna? Why didn’t anybody point out that only four of Dove’s seven cousins showed up? Why did Dove, of all people, have to die? Why was the world so unfair? Why was it raining?!

There were too many people crying just for show and Casey didn’t want to contribute to the masquerade. Either way, the tears wouldn’t come. Casey felt too uneasy to cry. There was something about the noise around him…

It wasn’t the sobbing, nor the priest straining his voice over the wrath of mother nature. Casey kept telling himself, that it was the hard raindrops against the lid of the coffin.

That had to have been it – that had to be what sounded like scratching.

* * * * * *

Scratch scratch scratch scratch scratch

Three weeks have passed since Dove’s funeral and the nightmares just got worse and worse. Casey still couldn’t see anything, but Dove’s voice reverberated within the confines of his mind, louder than it would have if she were right next to him.

“Hello?”

Dream-Casey was set on not responding this time around.

“Hello?! Is anybody there?”

Casey felt his temperature rise, but he managed to keep the dream version of himself quiet. He was not going to interact with his dead friend. Not tonight. Casey was sick and tired of feeling like he hadn’t slept in years. He was sick and tired of dreading nightfall, knowing full well that the torment will start anew once he lowered his head on the cool pillow.

“Can anybody hear me?! Please! Please, get me out of here!”

Scratch scratch scratch scratch scratch

“Case!”

Dove was crying.

“Casey, please… please talk to me! I’m so scared, Casey, I’m begging you… “

Something was tickling Casey at the temples. Sweat or tears, he couldn’t tell. That sensation should have been enough to wake anybody up, but, as always, Dove’s calling from the other realm, had no mercy.

“I need you, Casey! Please! Please get me out of here!”

He knew he shouldn’t give in to his mind playing tricks on him. The real Dove was six feet under, feeding maggots and fertilizing the soil around her. Even so, Casey’s will was hanging by a thread as fragile as spider webs.

“I thought you loved me…”

The thread broke.

“Don’t you love me, Casey?”

“Of course I do…”

“Then get me out of here. Say you’ll get me out of the Backrooms.”

Casey woke up drenched in sweat again. Not only that, but he was also crying and shaking from the top of his head to the tips of his fingers.

* * * * * *

The school cafeteria was pretty empty. Casey’s friends were all sitting at their usual spot alongside the elephant in the room, which was Dove’s unoccupied seat.

Karina, one of the two girls at the table, took her yogurt cup and almost slammed it on Casey’s tray as soon as he sat down.

“What the hell are you doing?”, Casey wanted to know.

Karina’s face was stern and her voice, even more so.

“You need to eat.”

Even though the girl was one year his junior, she acted like everybody’s mother.

“I am eating.”

Casey pointed to the almost-portion of mashed potatoes in front of him. Angie and Callum exchanged a glance and both of them placed their muffins on Casey’s tray. Angie also gave him her soda for good measure.

“You guys are being ridiculous. I don’t want your food!”

“That’s too bad, ‘cause you’re having it whether you like it or not.”

Casey was about to return the items to their respective givers, but Brian stopped him with a soft shove of his hand.

“Please, man. We all miss her, but you can’t go on like this.”

Casey took a second to look at his friends. Everybody looked bad. The bags under his own eyes were the worst, but his friends weren’t looking like they were about to walk into a photoshoot either. Brian was so pale, the contrast to his freckles made him look like somebody sprayed motor oil on his face. Karina stopped wearing jewelry altogether and for someone with five facial piercings, that’s saying a lot. Callum and Angie used to be all over each other during lunch, now even spotting them holding hands, has become rare.

Casey hovered over his tray. He said nothing, but him opening Karina’s yogurt cup was all the reassurance his friends needed. The thanks went unspoken, just like the many sentiments that strengthened their bond in the past weeks.

The lunch break was halfway over, until…

“Stop…” Angie didn’t mean to say it aloud. She was taken aback when four pairs of eyes met hers inquiringly. Callum squeezed her knee.

“Everything alright?”

Angie looked at her boyfriend with reindeer eyes. Her lips started to quiver and she shook her head slowly.

“I just want it to stop.”

Callum brushed a strain of her hair behind her ear and Angie took that as an invitation to lean into him.

“They will, baby. Just give it time.”

The moment they shared looked way too intimate to be interrupted by outsiders, yet Karina couldn’t help herself:

“‘They’?”

Callum threw her a poisonous glance.

“Don’t, K. Not now.”

But Angie didn’t share his apprehension. She detached herself from Callum’s side and brushed both hands over her face in an attempt at pulling herself together.

“Ever since Dove died… I’ve been having these dreams.”

Casey felt his throat constrict.

“They’re… weird. Like, Dove is, technically, never in them, and I don’t hear her or anything, but… it’s like, I know she’s there. And I know she’s scared.”

Angie’s voice broke on the last two words.

“You don’t have to do this, baby.” Callum stroke her back, but that only seemed to make her more upset.

“But I want to, just–”

Everybody was holding their breaths.

“It’s… these rooms.”

Casey felt his heart beating inside his skull.

“And they’re repetitive, like room, next to room, next to room, like… underground parking lots that are divided into sections, but narrow and never-ending. And there are no doors or windows, just rooms beyond rooms, like it’s this hallway with huge mirrors at both ends, so it just looks like it goes on and on and on… room, next to room, next to room. And it’s so odd, everything is, like… this old, ugly yellow. And it’s bright, but not that nice brightness, it’s that… abandoned hospital light. The one where you don’t know if it’s safer with the lights on or off…”

Angie was out of breath.

“I’m not crazy.”

“Nobody said that, baby…”

“I’m not crazy!”

Half of the cafeteria turned to look their way.

“Nobody thinks you’re crazy, Ange…” Karina stretched her hand over the table to caress her friend’s. “…and if they do –” she turned her head towards the on-lookers. “– let me at them!”

Casey hid his shaking hands under the table.

Everybody did their best to comfort Angie until lunch break was almost over. Callum, Angie, and Karina stood up, trays in hands, ready to leave for their next class. The couple said goodbye, but Casey didn’t hear anything.

“You guys okay?”

Karina was looking at Brian and Casey. Brian smiled and reassured her, that he’ll join her once Casey finished eating. Karina shrugged, squeezed Casey’s shoulder, and left the boys alone.

Casey and Brian were never particularly close, but they shared an understanding for each other that was hard to explain. Both were men of few words and both appreciated the same things in life and other people.

“You okay, man? You don’t look too good.”

Brian eyed Casey carefully. His stare was focused and his face had a little more color to it than it did an hour prior.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.”

Casey tried easing a smile into his statement but Brian’s stare was so intense, Casey could feel it prickle on his skin. That’s when he noticed it, too: Brian was shaking.

“So, um… Angie’s dreams. Weird, huh?”

“Yeah. Poor thing.”

The bell was supposed to ring any second now. The last of the students in the cafeteria had already gotten up to return their trays. Neither Brian nor Casey broke their stare-down. Brian disrupted the silence, however.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Any weird dreams lately?”

Casey felt the pits of his shirt grow cold and wet.

“No. What makes you ask that?”

His tone was way harsher than he intended it to be. Brian flinched a little and, just like that, his eyes grew wide and he broke the contact.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it, I just thought you looked like… never mind.”

“You thought I looked like, what?”

Casey moved closer to his friend. Brian seemed to reassess the situation and looked like he couldn’t get away from it fast enough.

“Sorry, dude, my bad. I misinterpreted something. Just forget it, okay?”

Brian rose to leave and Casey shot up and grabbed his arm with force to bruise.

“Tell me, god damn it!”

The lunch lady called out to them, reminding them of something or another that they should or shouldn’t be doing.

“Tell me. Please.”

Casey’s voice was so quiet, he barely heard it himself. Staring into Brian’s face, he realized that that which he initially interpreted as confrontation, was, in fact, despair. Brian was on the verge of a mental breakdown – more so than Angie and probably even more than Casey himself.

“I have them too, man…”

Casey didn’t need to ask. He knew what Brian meant.

“The dreams. The yellow rooms. I also felt Dove there…”

The lunch lady yelled again.

“At first, you think the wallpaper has just an ugly, outdated print…”

Casey felt nauseous.

“But that’s no print –”

Brian’s face was so close, his freckles were out of focus.

“– they’re cries for help, scratched into the walls by the people who are stuck there.”

“Boys!”

Brian and Casey jumped as if a shotgun had been fired next to their ears. They scurried out of the cafeteria with mumbled apologies. Casey and Brian were in different classes, so Casey ran to his as fast as he could, ignoring his friend calling after him.

Casey soldiered on through the rest of the school day, pretending to be attentive during class and purposefully avoiding his friends. Once he got home, nothing he did, be it homework or gaming, made daylight diminish fast enough – and that’s because, for the first time since his friend passed away, Casey looked forward to going to bed.

* * * * * *

Scratch scratch scratch scratch scratch

“Hello?”

Scratch scratch scratch scratch scratch

“Hello? Is someone there?”

Casey focused on steadying his breathing.

“Yes.”

Scratch scratch scratch scratch

“Case? Casey is that you?!”

“Yes, Dove, it’s me.

“Casey! Oh, thank god you’re back! You have to get me out of here!”

Scratch scratch scratch scratch

“Where are you?”

“I’m in the Backrooms.”

Casey fought to keep his thoughts aligned.

“Look around. What do you see?”

“Yellow. Everything is yellow.”

That confirmed it. Neither Casey nor Angie or Brian were going mad. Dove was indeed stuck somewhere, and it was not beneath the earth, in a narrow, rectangular box.

“Everything is so yellow…”

“Dove, tell me more. What else can you see?”

“Rooms everywhere. They never end, it’s like I’m running in replay…”

“These rooms, where are they?”

“I… I don’t know.

“Stay with me, alright? I need you to concentrate! Where were you before? Before the Backrooms?”

“I don’t remember.”

“How did you get there?”

“I don’t remember.”

“Can you remember something, anything? A face, an object, something!”

“I don’t remember! I don’t know!”

“Is there somebody else with you?”

“…”

“Dove?”

“Not somebody.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s something. Something is in here, with me… I can’t see it, but it’s here. It’s playing with me. Watching, following.”

Casey felt his consciousness slipping in.

“Casey… you have to get me out of here. Say you’ll get me out of here!”

“But I don’t know where you are.”

“I’m in the Backrooms!”

“Dove, that’s not helping! Come on, focus! You keep calling them the ‘back’-rooms, not just ‘the rooms’. You know something, now help me out here! Where are you? Where are these Backrooms?!”

There was silence. Lucidity was coming down hard and Casey never thought he’d dread waking up from one of these nightmares.

“Dove! Where are the Backrooms?!”

And Dove answered.

“Everywhere. The Backrooms are everywhere.”

Casey was not drenched in sweat when he woke up. His sheets, on the other hand, were ripped to shreds.

* * * * * *

Two more months had passed since Dove died and, for the first time since her funeral, it was raining.

Casey remembered the sounds made by the raindrops hitting the lowered coffin and mistaking them for scratches. He still had the nightmares every once in a while, but since the night he tried communicating with her more, the intensity of Dove subsided. Also, he began having normal dreams again. Dove’s pleas would morph into grunts and mumbles, and the nightmare would melt into a halfway muted soundtrack for another dream, one that provided both sound and imagery. It was like Casey’s subconsciousness was slowly yet surely winning the fight against these nightmares, allowing him to sleep soundly again.

Casey’s friends were doing better too. Angie began to smile again and she and Callum resumed showcasing their teenage affection during breaks or outside of school. Brian also seemed to be doing better. Casey and he never brought up the dreams again and judging by his much healthier appearance, Brian probably stopped having them altogether. Karina was Karina: heart of gold, shell of rock. Nobody could accuse her of not grieving the loss of her friend, but she was the first to recover after Dove’s passing and gave nobody a reason to worry about her emotional well-being. All in all, the five of them were doing fine and even though moving on was still ways ahead, they were on the right track.

There had to be a logical explanation for the semblance of their dreams. More than likely, Angie, Brian, and Casey had seen the same movie or read the same piece of fiction a long time ago, thus triggering similar brain activity in their heads when Dove died. Karina might have had dreams about Dove too. Callum, as well. Karina’s parents probably did too, but that didn’t mean that they must have spotted some inexplicable crack between life and death – that would have sounded a million types of stupid.

Casey was too old and too smart to believe in paranormal nonsense. Dove was dead, but he wasn’t. He would miss her greatly, but this was the first day of the rest of his life and he planned on living it to the fullest, just like his best friend would have wanted him to.

It was Friday afternoon. Casey and his friends were going to meet up at Karina’s for a game of DnD. They hadn’t played in ages and thought that it would be cool to pick it up again. Casey had gotten home from school, showered, ate, and just as he finished brushing his teeth, his phone vibrated with an incoming message. The message was from their group chat – probably Callum asking which flavor Cheetos to bring, or a photo from Karina, showing off the setup she installed.

Casey opened the message and dropped his phone with a scream. The screen cracked, but nothing else was affected by the hard fall. The phone vibrated again. And again. And again. It sounded like a chainsaw against the bathroom tiles. Casey himself had fallen and crawled on the bathroom floor until his back hit a wall. He began to sob. The phone kept vibrating from a plethora of incoming messages, all from a number that was supposed to be inactive and stay inactive forever.

Dove was messaging the group chat in all caps. The first message had been a haunting picture full of yellow. Casey’s fragile inner peace, the one he fought so hard to regain after the nightmares subsided, crumbled. He got himself off the floor, grabbed his still vibrating phone and dashed out of the house, fully forgetting to lock the door or grab his bike.

Casey ran through the rain to Karina’s house like his life depended on it. The muscles in his legs were screaming and his lungs were burning, but nothing mattered except the phone that was still vibrating furiously in his pant pocket. Once he reached his destination, Casey dashed through the front door, completely forgetting to greet Karina’s parents, and flew up the stairs to where his friends’ room was. Everybody was already there, seated in a circle on the floor.

“Did you guys see them?!”

Everybody froze. Casey was soaked to the skin and looked like he was about to hurt somebody.

“We have to help her! I’m serious! She’s stuck there, we have to find her and get her out of there! K, I need your laptop!”

Karina frowned. Brian, unsure of what to do, pointed to the laptop on Karina’s writing desk. Casey wasted no time in closing the Spotify playlist and typing ‘shaman’ in the google search bar.

“Does any of you guys know what she means by “Backrooms”?! I asked where they are and she said ‘everywhere’, so I’m thinking, it’s a state of mind or something? But, how can it be, if she’s not alone in there and the walls are scratched, like, what are we missing here?”

Casey turned to face his friends. All four of them looked dumbfounded.

“You alright, dude?” Brian got off the floor and took a tentative step in Casey’s direction. “You need a towel, or–”

“No, I’m not alright! Check your phones, people!”

The four of them rummaged through their pockets in search of their phones. They all looked at their screens, then at each other.

“What are we looking for, exactly?” Callum sounded genuinely confused.

“Somebody commented on my latest Instagram post, but I’m pretty sure that’s not what you mean.” Angie turned her phone to provide evidence for her statement.

Casey was on the verge of losing his mind.

“Guys, are you fucking kidding me?! It’s Dove! Dove sent us a million messages in our group chat just now!”

Angie shivered and Callum threw a protective arm around her frame in an instant. Brian and Karina were livid.

“Casey…” Brian spoke with the tiniest of voices. “Not cool, dude.”

“Yeah.” Karina sounded angry. “Whatever you’re trying to do, you need to stop. Right now.”

“People, do you hear yourselves?!” Casey snatched his phone out of his pant pocket and tried unlocking it. Nothing. All the screen hat to offer was a spiderweb on black glass.

“Aw, shit!”

Casey scanned Karina’s room and rushed to the plug that had her phone charger in it.

“It’s not working! What the fuck, this piece of shit worked fine just seconds ago!”

Casey almost tackled Brian.

“Unlock your phone and give it to me!”

“Casey, you really need to calm down.” Nevertheless, Brian did as he was told and handed Casey his unlocked phone. Casey pressed the icon for their group chat and stared for what felt like an eternity to the last message, posted around the time he was brushing his teeth: Callum had sent a photo of the Cheetos aisle with the caption ‘which one?’.

“Bastard… you deleted them…”

“What?! Deleted what? And did you just call me a–”

“Angie, I need your phone!”

Angie was a step ahead of him, however – as were Callum and Karina. All three of them shoved their phones into Casey’s face, showing a message identical to the one on Brian’s phone from their group chat.

There was a knock at the door.

“Karina, is everything alright?”

“Everything’s fine, dad, just give us a minute.”

Casey’s heart was shattered.

“Why… why would you guys do this… she posted a picture of her surroundings and she finally found a way to contact us! She needs us, we need to get her out of those rooms!

Casey turned to Angie.

“They’re yellow, Ange, just like you said! Yellow and never-ending.”

“Okay, enough! Back off!” Callum rose to his feet. “Angie finally got rid of her insomnia from this bullshit, you are not bringing that up again!”

“Karina, I’m coming in.”

Karina’s six-foot-four tall father stepped into the room, looking every bit as angry as his daughter. Karina’s mother was right behind him.

“What’s going on here?”, the mother inquired.

“Casey was just saying goodbye to everybody.” Karina’s voice stung like frostbite. “Weren’t you, Casey?”

Casey felt his eyes water. He bit his lip and in a last attempt at tugging at his friends’ heartstrings, he turned towards Brian.

“Tell them.”

Brian was so white, he almost glowed.

“Brian, tell them. Tell them what you told me. The rooms, the yellow walls, the scratches… tell them!”

Brian shook his head twice and shrugged.

“Sorry, dude. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Something within Casey collapsed. Without another word, he went to get his phone and walked out of Karina’s house with apologies he didn’t mean.

* * * * * *

Casey’s retinas stung. Blinking was difficult. The world was asleep while he surfed the blue fluorescent lights of digital worldwide knowledge, searching for something that might make him get to his friend.

“What color does yellow symbolize? On one hand yellow stands for freshness, happiness, positivity, honor, and joy, but on the other, it represents cowardice and deceit.”

Not helpful.

“What is the spiritual meaning of yellow?

Personal power and fulfillment, abundance, courage and self-confidence. Yellow represents happiness, clarity and sunlight.”

If that were so, Dove, wherever she was, would have been fine.

Casey considered stealing his mom’s credit card because he knew that the money he saved up wouldn’t cover the things he needed to buy: an EMF reader, a thermal camera, maybe a Ouija board. Google was not all helpful, though. Casey found interesting articles and clips with and regarding people who survived clinical death, but finding these people on social media was a different process altogether. The ones he did manage to find, had ridiculous privacy settings. Casey couldn’t speak to anybody who might have seen ‘the other side’, so he was just as blind as in the nightmares with Dove.

Casey yawned. He tried starting his phone one last time, but it remained unresponsive. He wished he could have had a better look at the picture of the Backrooms. Maybe he could have spot something Dove missed. Maybe he could extract it out of his phone somehow, upload it somewhere and do a reverse image search of it. And if that didn’t work, well.. he wasn’t the world’s best artist, but he could throw together five lines in an attempt at recreating it, and ask Reddit for clues. He would try anything, no matter how ridiculous.

Casey yawned again and knew that is was time to go to sleep. He shut off his computer, got into bed, and closed his eyes.

Scratch scratch scratch scratch scratch

“Hello?”

Casey opened his eyes and sat upright. He was alone in his room and still very much awake.

“Dove?”

He looked around but saw nothing.

“Dove, are you in here?”

Casey got out of bed and looked under his desk, under the bed, and in his wardrobe. He even opened the window to see if there was somebody outside. Nothing. Casey got into bed again and closed his eyes anew.

“Dove, can you hear me?”

Scratch scratch scratch scratch

“Yes! Casey, oh thank god, I thought you left!”

“No, I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Casey was not asleep. He knew that for a fact. He still couldn’t see his friend, but he could hear her as if she were right next to him. That was good. It meant less trouble for him to get a hold of her.

“It was so hard to reach you lately, where were you?!”

“I’m sorry, Dove. But I’m here now and I won’t leave you again.”

“Help me, Casey.”

Scratch scratch scratch scratch

“Help me!”

“I will, I promise! I think I came across something that might help. Look around, Dove, can you see–”

“Will you get me out of here?”

“I don’t know, but I’ll try. Look for a–”

“Case…”

Scratch scratch scratch scratch

“…Casey… my Casey…”

“What, what is it?”

“Do you love me, Casey?”

Casey swallowed the lump in his throat.

“Yes.”

“Will you get me out of here?”

Scratch scratch scratch scratch

“I’m trying, Dove, but you really need to–”

“Shhh… no more trying. You tried enough, I now need you to do. So, will you? Will you get me out of the Backrooms?”

Casey remembered Angie’s pathetic eyes, glossy from the tears that were about to happen. He remembered Callum acting up in front of the girlfriend who was out of his league, making her feel like she needs him. Casey remembered Karina’s self-importance and shitty attitude. Last but not least, Casey remembered Brian… dumb, quiet, treacherous Brian. And in the midst of all this, was Dove. Smart, strong, beautifully ungraceful Dove.

Brian’s voice echoed in Casey’s head: “Sorry, dude, but I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Yes.”

“Yes?!”

Scratch scratch scratch scratch

“Yes.”

“Say it! Say it, please, I need to hear it!”

“Yes, I will.”

“No, Casey!” Scratch scratch scratch scratch “I need to hear you say ‘yes, Dove, I will get you out of the Backrooms’!”

“Yes, Dove –”

Scratch scratch scratch scratch scratch scratch scratch scratch

“– I will get you out of the Backrooms.”

The scratching stopped. Dove began to cry.

“… thank you.”

“I got you, Dove, don’t worry. We’ll do this together. Now, look around, can you see a light switch anywhere?”

Silence.

“Dove, focus. A light switch, can you see it?”

Silence.

“Dove?”

Casey opened his eyes and the first thing he registered, was light. Casey squinted, wondering if one of his parents heard him talking to himself and came to check on him, but then his eyes adjusted…

And the first thing he saw, was yellow.

“No…oh no.”

Rooms, beyond rooms, beyond rooms, in what had to be the most haunting color in existence. Casey got up on wobbly feet and felt dread expanding to every cell in his body.

“Dove…?”

But Dove was no longer there.

Which is not to say that Casey was alone.

Rating: 9.75/10. From 4 votes.
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🎧 Available Audio Adaptations: None Available


Written by Lucretia Vastea
Edited by Craig Groshek
Thumbnail Art by Craig Groshek
Narrated by N/A

🔔 More stories from author: Lucretia Vastea


Publisher's Notes: N/A

Author's Notes: N/A

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Parents Know Best

Blue Dollars
Average Rating:
10

Blue Dollars

The Angels Burned
Average Rating:
7.5

The Angels Burned

Recommended Reading:

The Vessel: Book Three: A Space Horror Series
Neverlight: A Father Darkness Collection
Too Spooky Tales: Book Three: Echos Of The Passed
Tenement: A Short Horror Story

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