Horrors from Around the World

040 - Endless Halls

David had always been curious about the stories—the whispers of a place called the Backrooms. It was one of those online urban legends, a creepy tale about endless yellow hallways, buzzing fluorescent lights, and the feeling of being lost forever. He never believed it, not really. That kind of thing wasn't real. But now, standing in the middle of a featureless, beige expanse, he wasn't so sure.

It had happened so fast.

One moment, he was at his office, walking down the corridor toward the breakroom, and the next, he tripped over the uneven carpet. He expected to hit the floor but instead... he fell through it. The world twisted, pulled him in, and when he landed, it was here.

The sound of buzzing lights greeted him as he stood up, brushing himself off. The smell of old, damp carpet filled his nostrils. He looked around and realized he wasn't in the office anymore. The walls were the color of old wallpaper, the kind you'd see in an abandoned building, and the lighting above flickered ever so slightly, casting a sickly yellow hue.

"Hello?" His voice echoed through the space, bouncing off the walls, but no answer came. There was no one. No sign of life, just endless, stretching corridors in every direction.

David walked for what felt like hours. Each turn led to another identical hallway, each identical hallway led to more turns. He tried to mark his path—small tears in the wallpaper or scratches on the corners of walls—but no matter how many times he doubled back, the marks disappeared. It was as if the walls themselves were healing, hiding his attempts to escape.

Panic set in. His breath quickened. He started running, desperate to find anything different, anything that could explain where he was. But the more he ran, the more the rooms seemed to warp. The angles of the walls felt wrong, subtly shifting, tilting ever so slightly, but enough to make his head spin.

It wasn't until he stopped—hands on his knees, gasping for breath—that he heard it.

A distant shuffling. Slow. Deliberate.

At first, David thought it was his imagination, the endless quiet playing tricks on him. But then it came again, closer this time. A dragging sound, like something heavy was being pulled across the carpet.

"Hello?" he called out again, hoping—praying—it was another person.

The shuffling stopped. Silence fell over the hallway. David strained to listen, his heart pounding in his ears.

Then came the whisper.

Faint, nearly imperceptible, but unmistakable.

"Run."

He didn't need to be told twice. David turned and sprinted down the hallway, not caring where it led, just needing to get away. His footsteps echoed wildly, but underneath them, the dragging sound followed, growing louder. Faster. Whatever it was, it was chasing him, gaining on him.

He rounded a corner and stopped dead in his tracks.

There, in the middle of the hallway, stood a door.

It was the first thing he had seen that didn't belong to the endless maze. It was old, wooden, and slightly ajar, light spilling out from the crack. Without thinking, David rushed toward it, flinging it open, desperate for escape.

But the door didn't lead outside. It led to another hallway—this one darker, narrower, with walls that felt like they were closing in.

Behind him, the dragging sound grew louder. Closer.

He slammed the door shut and ran down the new hallway, but the whisper followed him. Louder this time.

"Run."

David's legs burned, his lungs screamed for air, but he didn't stop. He couldn't. He ran and ran, knowing deep down that there was no way out.

In the Backrooms, you don't escape. You just keep running.

And something is always chasing.