Running With the Devil (SCP Fanfic)

Chapter 1: A Day in the Life

He felt uneasy walking down the large concrete hallway, his lungs breathing in shallow breaths.

He passed empty blacked out rooms embedded in the wall that were walled off by glass. Some rooms were filled with severs with blinking red lights, and others had large tables surrounded by chairs. He gathered that he was in some sort of facility that housed offices, but he did not know how he got there.

He looked down as he walked, seeing the polished black marble floors reflect the bright white light that made up the ceiling. He knew something was off when he did not see his reflection. This feeling grew stronger as he kept walking down the endless hallway, passing by the same rooms repeating over and over again.

A pressure started to grip at his chest as he kept walking, and his legs began to grow tired, but he kept walking, being driven on by an unknown force.

The pressure on his chest kept becoming tighter and tighter and he soon realized he was walking to the center of a large concrete room with columns running up near the edges of the room into the white light above.

He saw in the center of the room a darkened silhouette hunched over something, and from it, he felt a great sadness. He began to walk slowly towards the person, with each step becoming labored and uneasiness running over his skin.

He was close to the darkened figure but couldn't walk anymore as his legs burned and felt extremely heavy like he was wearing lead boots. He stared at the person still hunched over. The person looked up and stared at him with white pinprick eyes that pierced his body with sorrow and loneliness.

He felt the pressure on his chest tighten even further as his whole body grew heavy, and the person in the center looked back down at what seemed to be a mass of fur on the floor.

Every joint in his body was stiff and denied every attempt he made to make his body move. He felt himself sink into the ground as he tried to let out a scream, but nothing came out.

His eyes opened suddenly, and he shot up from his bed. Gasping for air, he grabbed his chest, the pressure had disappeared.

"Jesus Christ, these dreams," He said as he sighed, his breathing slowing down.

He looked to his side table to see his phone lighting up. "What now?" He said as he picked it up and looked at the messages he was being sent.

The messages were from his friend, Sherrie. "You're late to class again, James!", "Wake up, you bastard!","I can't keep covering for you!," the messages read.

"Not again," he mumbled to himself, "Oh whatever, I'll get there when I do... I guess."

James ran his hand through his dark brown hair, yawned, and got out of bed with a long stretch.

He walked over to the closet and grabbed a pair of navy blue jeans and a white t-shirt. He put on his clothes, grabbed his black belt with a silver buckle, wrapped it around his waist, and through the loops.

He made his way toward the door, put on his old suede boots, slipped into his black leather jacket, and slung his backpack over his shoulder.

He drove to the center of town and made it onto campus in a matter of minutes. The leftover wind from winter breezed through his hair as he strolled towards his class.

He admired his walk on campus appreciating the clear blue sky and the squirrels that came out of hibernation scurrying about. He felt a little bit better after that nightmare he had.

He finally got to class and entered the big hall. He made his way to the back as the teacher stopped talking to look at James as the entire class looked too. James took his seat next to his friend, Sherrie, and the teacher resumed his lecture.