My brain awakes before my body does. This means I hear the mosquito-like buzzing of a florescent light nearby before I even open my eyes. I don't need to see, however, to know that this is not my bedroom.
Of course, this doesn't register at first. Another fever dream in the never-ending saga of reasons I can no longer stay awake in first-hour. I'd consider starting a dream journal if I could only half remember what they were.
And then I feel my eyes flutter open. I gain control over my body once more as I sit up, blinking the sleep from my eyes.
When my eyes adjust, I am not faced with the brown dresser I see when I wake up from another episode of paralysis, nor do I see the record player that sits on the shelf near my bedside. Instead, I see a maze of manilla walls with the glare of florescent lines shine down on me.
This is not my bedroom.
THINGS OF NOTE
For those of you who skipped the introduction (I really don't blame you)
If you git this far than I am truly greatful! If you want to continue reading than by all means, go right on ahead! But if you are sensitive to some topics like I am, you might want to read chapter -1 so you know what could possible trigger you.
That is all. Take care!
YOU ARE READING
The Backrooms: A Fading Memory
HorrorDespite their up bringing in a religous town to the left of nowhere, Guide is a fairly average teen. They manage a decent GPA and have a decent relationship with their mother. When they awake from a groggy slumber, they find themselves facing the...
