Alex Carter was always pushing the limits. A famous vlogger known for his daring explorations of abandoned buildings and urban legends, his millions of followers craved the adrenaline-fueled adventures he provided. So when rumors about the "Backrooms" started circulating on the internet, Alex knew he had to investigate.
The Backrooms, a supposed endless labyrinth of monotonous yellow hallways, flickering fluorescent lights, and damp carpet, were the stuff of internet horror myths. People claimed that by accidentally "noclipping" out of reality, they found themselves trapped in this eerie, infinite space. Of course, Alex didn’t believe in such nonsense. He assumed it was just another creepypasta, an internet legend exaggerated by overactive imaginations.
But his audience was relentless. Comment after comment begged him to go searching for the Backrooms. Some even sent him coordinates of supposed "thin spots"—places where reality was rumored to be weaker. Eventually, curiosity and the promise of high viewership got the better of him. He packed his camera gear, including his trusty GoPro and Nikon Z30, and set off for an old, decrepit office building on the outskirts of town, where the most promising coordinates led.
Entry
The building was everything he had hoped for—abandoned, decayed, and reeking of mystery. Peeling wallpaper, shattered windows, and the faint stench of mildew filled the air as Alex cautiously moved through the hallways, filming his every step.
"Alright, guys, here we are. The place where reality is supposedly thinner," he whispered dramatically into his camera. "If I suddenly disappear, tell my mom I love her."
He laughed at his own joke, but something about the silence unsettled him. There was no wind, no distant city noise, just an oppressive stillness.
As he stepped into a particularly dark corridor, his foot caught on an uneven tile. He stumbled forward, instinctively reaching out to grab the wall—but his hand met nothing but air.
The world around him blurred. It felt like he was falling, though there was no sensation of descent—just a brief, gut-wrenching disorientation. And then, just as suddenly as it began, it was over.
The Backrooms
Alex landed hard on a rough, musty carpet. Groaning, he pushed himself up and looked around.
Yellow walls. Fluorescent lights buzzing overhead. The air was thick with the scent of damp carpet and something else—something artificial and stale. The hallway stretched endlessly in both directions, each turn revealing more of the same monotonous corridors. It was exactly as the legends described.
"No way," he muttered, his voice echoing strangely.
He pulled out his camera, still miraculously in his grasp, and checked the footage. It had recorded everything—the stumble, the strange blur, and his abrupt arrival here.
"Guys…" he said, forcing a nervous chuckle. "I think I just found the Backrooms."
His heart pounded as he explored, documenting every turn and eerie passageway. There were no windows, no doors leading outside. Occasionally, he'd spot an old, wooden table or a battered office chair, as if remnants of a forgotten past remained scattered throughout the space.
Then, the whispering started.
Faint, unintelligible murmurs drifted through the corridors, just beyond his range of hearing. He spun around, holding his camera out in front of him. "Hello? Anyone there?"
Silence.
The rational part of his mind screamed that this had to be a prank—some elaborate, underground experiment set up by internet trolls. But the way his skin crawled told him otherwise.
Descent into Madness
Hours passed. Maybe even days. Time felt strange here. His camera's battery was somehow still going, defying logic. He had marked walls with scratches to track his path, only to find the marks disappearing when he retraced his steps.
And then, he heard it.
A distant, guttural groan.
It wasn’t human.
Panic surged through him as he turned off his camera light, pressing himself against the wall. A shadow moved at the end of the hallway—tall, gangly, and shifting unnaturally, as if its joints weren’t properly connected.
The Thing.
The entity the internet whispered about, speculated upon but never confirmed. Its footsteps were uneven, like it was dragging something heavy. The light above it flickered, casting brief, distorted glimpses of its elongated form.
Alex’s breathing shallowed. He gripped his camera, hands trembling. If he could just stay silent, maybe it wouldn’t notice him.
But the second his foot slid an inch on the damp carpet, it stopped. The head—or what he assumed was its head—snapped toward him.
And then it charged.
Escape?
Alex bolted. His body moved on instinct, turning corners blindly. The sound of pounding footsteps grew closer. The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed wildly, some bursting as he passed. He could feel the Thing closing in, the air behind him thick with its presence.
And then—
A door.
Impossible. There had been no doors before.
With no time to question, he threw himself against it. The moment he crossed the threshold, the world blurred again, that same gut-wrenching disorientation overtaking him.
Back to Reality?
Alex hit the ground hard. Cold concrete. The scent of mildew.
Gasping, he scrambled to his feet. He was back in the abandoned office building.
His camera lay beside him, still recording.
"Oh my God…" he whispered, his entire body shaking. He turned the camera to his face, drenched in sweat, eyes wide with terror. "Guys… I—I don't know how to explain this, but I think I actually went to the Backrooms."
Shaky hands lifted the camera to review the footage. Everything was there—the endless hallways, the whispers, the Thing. It wasn’t a dream. It wasn’t a hoax.
It was real.
He bolted out of the building, the fresh night air hitting him like a slap to the face. He had to get home. He had to upload this. The world needed to see what he had seen.
But as he started his car, he froze.
The faint scent of damp carpet lingered in the air.
And in his rearview mirror, a tall, shadowy figure watched him from the doorway.