Author: tgenedavis

  • What are the Backrooms?

    The Backrooms – Any empty, eerie space.

    Online, urban legends describe The Backrooms as an infinite series of nondescript, yellow, windowless offices. Creepy-by-nature, liminal spaces, forming endless mazes pull in any unwary person who accidentally “noclips” through a floor or wall.

    It sounds like Black Mirror or the Twilight Zone, but more real and disturbing.

    The above is a copy of the original image that spawned the community-driven Backrooms urban legend.

  • Therapy


    “Why do you keep looking behind you?”

    “Sorry. Just always aware of my surroundings. Situational awareness. I’m a little paranoid I guess.”

    “Were you in the military?”

    “Yes. But no. Active duty was rough, but that’s not it.”

    “Why? What makes you so nervous?”

    “I escaped.”

    “From where?”

    “I can’t, … Only someone who’s been through it and escaped would understand.”

    “These sessions are private. I’m not here to judge. Just to listen. You’re paying the bill. Remember? You’re the boss.”

    “The Lobby. They call it the Backrooms.”

    “The urban legend? They make books and games and movies about it.”

    “Some of them are accurate.”

    There was a pause.

    “Our time it up for today. I hope you will tell me more. I’m here to listen.”

    “Thank you.”

  • Chat the Backrooms

    Don’t trust the entity wearing the yellow suit.

    Sophia’s head jerked up from her phone. She spun around, expecting someone in a yellow suit. Only empty yellow hallways greeted her.

    Who? No one’s here. She pressed send.

    No response. The sender, Unknown, ignored her again.

    Low battery.

    “Not the message I needed right now,” Sophia mumbled.

    Turn left at the dripping pipe.

    “What does that even mean?”

    Sophia listened to the loud buzz of the fluorescent lights. She smelled the rotting, moist carpet, then heard a faint drip in the distance.

    She moved toward the drip, and soon turned left. In front of her was a man in a yellow suit. He faced away from her, … motionless. Her phone buzzed, again.

    DANGER!!! Wait for the lights to flicker three times, then proceed. Three times, only.

    Sophia held her breath, staring at the back of the man’s head.

    The lights flickered.

    Maybe this man could help.

    The lights flickered.

    Maybe Unknown had a kidnapper van waiting at the exit.

    Was that another flicker?

    Sophia walked slowly by the man, just within arms reach. The yellow hallway wouldn’t allow her any more distance.

    The lights flickered.

    The phone buzzed.

    run

  • T Gene Davis’s Speculative Blog

    If you’re looking for my stories blog, look over at https://freesciencefiction.com/

  • It Keeps Smiling

    I’ve been here since Tuesday. These yellow walls. The moist, smelly carpets. The endless halls.

    I woke up here. You know that weird falling sensation that wakes you up in the middle of the night, then you realize you’re in bed, so go back to sleep?

    I had that.

    I woke up here in this old empty office with no windows, and a buzzing sound from the lights.

    I wandered barefoot forever. This seemed like a dream, but no…

    Then I felt something following me. I’d hear muffled squelching sounds from it walking on the damp carpet, occasionally. I drew nearer, finally it caught up.

    I collapsed on the floor and crawled away from it. I looked human, but no face. Just a too large toothy grin. Too many teeth.

    When I paused, it paused. When I moved, it drew closer.

    I can’t move, or it will close the gap. And, then what?

    I’m stuck staring at its empty face, and broad toothy smile.

  • Where am I?

    “Don’t take I-90 through Chicago.”

    “Yes, Dad.”

    A simple conversation, … that I ignored. Life’s short. Ignore your parents.

    After I recovered from the airbag punching me in the face, I saw the remains of my Kia resting on sickly, yellow carpet.

    On a ceiling?

    No. The Kia rested on its roof, … upside down.

    An office? It looked like an old 1970’s office after years of neglect, and some burst pipes.

    “How did I get from I-90’s stop-and-go to this, … place?”

    I tried my crumpled door, but it resisted. I release the seatbelt, and fell on my shoulder. That hurt. Not as bad as my leg, though. I looked up at my leg, and I must be in shock, because that did not look like a leg.

    How did I crash in stop-and-go traffic? I remembered a falling, tumbling sensation, before a hard punch in the face.

    I ended up climbing out the window, and falling onto the moist, smelly yellow carpet. Then my yellow world went black.

    Wrecked car on roof in backrooms lobby.

  • Backrooms! Frontrooms! Oh my!

    Welcome to the Backrooms. I’ve decided to update the server, so expect lots of content to move here, soon.

    -T Gene Davis