The closer to the opening of this new area Parker got, the more oddly slanting and disjointed the walls that came into view were. He could see along the walls to his right and left. There was a hallway that appeared to run around the nightmare maze of segmented walls in the center. Hell Maze. This area seemed to be as big as a college football field without the stands. The ceiling here was unbelievably high, something he couldn’t see from closet-land.
Hanging from the ceiling were large high bay lights, like those you see over a professional basketball court. The light from the fixtures was varying in intensity from lamp to lamp. Many of the hanging lights were dark, casting ominous shadows across the zig zaggy, maze like landscape.
The roof, or ceiling above the lamps was dark.
On all the walls was the ever-present puke inducing waterline, still rising at a strange and surreal angle. Just inside the entryway, where Parker now stood, the level of the stain was just below his waist.
Parker now had an abundance of choices. As he could see quite far into the center of this new nightmare, the light becoming more sparce the further into the center he looked. Not my first choice, too many… way to damn many twists and turns in there.
Nope… next…
The left-hand side was a little better, save the end. The end of this, what… walkway… exterior… what the Hell ever, was a corner of complete darkness that spread another fresh wave of headache inducing adrenaline through his system.
Parker, still immobile at the beginning of this deeply disturbing area, winced. “Why, I mean… clearly I’m not suicidal”.
So, the right-hand side. Lights were dim in spots this way, but completely illuminated his path to the far off corner. Still, he hesitated. There was something on the floor close to the other side, which he couldn’t make out. “Oh, I just love this place!”
He reached into his back right pocket and pulled out his buddy, the black sharpie. He uncapped it, and on the right-hand wall he drew another arrow, and the letters F U.
If there ARE camera watchers out here somewhere… they’ll understand the “FU”. Parker smirked. He capped and returned the sharpie to his back pocket.
Parker checked that the pack was snug on his back, checked that his fly was zipped up for some reason, and slowly crept forward… heal toe fashion. Who the flip knows what’s in there, he thought looking into the maze.
The first opening to Hell maze on his left was ahead a few steps, so he crept up and peaked around the corner. Clear, lit, and zig zaggy… on to the next.
The theme song to the Mission Impossible movies started playing in his head as he began to walk more normally. There was a good 200 foot span between this first left and the next, so the superhero in him started to take over.
Dunn dunn dun dun, dunn dunn dun dun, dunn dunn dun dun…
Parker was keeping his eyes on the large brown object far ahead as he pretended to be brave. It wasn’t moving, but that was all he could make out as it was in a slightly dimmer part of his path.
“Whoa!” All STOP! Full brakes engaged, as the lights above the mystery object went out.
Parker had always heard about people having panic attacks in the past. One of his friends lost her marbles a bit during finals last year, but he never experienced one… until now. All at once, he felt like he just finished running a 6-minute mile.
He was having a hard time breathing, his heart was pounding, head throbbing, and had an instant cold sweat across his forehead.
“Ssssssshhit…” Parker whispered to himself. He was halfway between the last maze entrance, and the next. Nowhere to go, unless he could conjure a Minecraft pickaxe and burrow like gopher into the floor.
The light quickly flickered back to life, brighter than before. The object was still there.
“Ahhhh… son of a big dumb BUNNY!” he exclaimed reflexively. His knees and hands were shaking, and his heart was racing.
Parker leaned forward, hands on his knees as he struggled to find the superhuman cape wearer within again. Nah… that guy must have gone for coffee…
He looked back up at the mystery thing ahead and realized in this brighter light that he could make out what it is. “It’s a freakin’ crate?” A big wooden crate just sitting there, all smug.
As he stood back up, he glanced toward the opening on his left and then back to the crate. He ignored his renewed pounding head and continued forward. The crate was still aways off, but now that he knew what it was, he was on mission.
He passed the darker break in the walls to his left a little faster than the last. He wasn’t interested in going that way AT ALL, besides the level of horror that still hung on him like his damp shirt, he was enthused by the prospect of something different. The crate.
The distance between himself and his new passion contained no more left-hand turns, so he sped his travel with anticipation. What’s in the box? Looks like something from a ship’s cargo.
Parker recalled more details about the Backrooms lore. The Wiki on this place mentions crates containing all sorts of possibly useful items scattered randomly in the backrooms. Anything from weapons and food to stuff like hair extensions and live rats. “Please don’t be rats. Stinky sweat sock, okay… but not rats”.
Only a few feet to go, and he saw how solid the box was. It was at least a four-foot square box built out of clean cut 2x4s and plywood. The frame looked super solid. There were boards running diagonally from the right upper to the left lower corner on all sides, making the plywood walls of the crate much stronger. The entire thing held together with wide, black nails.
There was a small, worn symbol stamped on the lid of the box. It looked like a large capitol A with lettering underneath, which was smeared and illegible. Of course, why have any clear labels here … sheesh.
Parker looked quickly up and down the hall as he put both his hands on the lid of the crate… it was loose. “Holy crap, the lid is LOOSE? Yes! … wait…” Parker paused and imagined lifting the lid of the container and instantly being hit by a wave of stampeding rats from within.
As if a torrent of hyper rats wasn’t enough, another fun image popped into his head.
“… what if this is a giant demonic jack in the box, and Annabelle the effin doll pops out? I really need to stop watching those horror flicks”. Parker swallowed hard and wiggled the lid up and off the box.
In one smooth frantic motion, he winced turning his head away from the opened crate and covered his privates with the freed box-top.
No rats, no butt puckering possessed dolly.
Parker dropped the crate lid to the carpet, struggling to compute the contents of the shipping container.
This solidly built thing, that looks as if it should hold several dozen assault weapons… didn’t.
“You’ve GOT to be shitting me!”
Inside his treasured new box were dozens upon dozens of neatly folded, brand new, white Hello Kitty hoodies.
His nervousness completely vanished. Parker began feverishly pushing hooded sweatshirts aside in the hopes of finding something that was actually useful. Nothing but the big kitty head with a flower on her ear, embossed in black thread on a slew of sweatshirts.
“Is Hello Kitty even a THING anymore?” Parker felt hysterical laughter slowly build deep within his chest. He looked around the hallway again as he burst into an absurd mixture of laughter and tears.
All this build up and tension. The panic inducing, light flickering, possible heart attack causing situation that culminated in a ton of innocent little cartoon faces on fields of white.
Oh sanity, what a fickle shit you are.
“I take it back…, “Parker said, wiping tears off his face with the front of his shirt. “… I really want a shot of Fireball right now...”
Resetting of current goals.
No more fireball…
punch Ryan in the head…
“Fireball has its place here, but Ryan’s still getting popped in the mouth.”
Parker slowly settled into his new form of sanity. “At least I can get rid of this bloody chill. Hello Kitty style”, Parker realized. He rummaged through the case again, looking for his size this time.
He found numerous small and extra extra large hoodies immediately, of which he moved 1 of each aside. AH, medium! He pulled the medium sweatshirt away and held it up to himself with much of the same giddiness a 9-year-old girl may have had.
Parker shrugged off his backpack, making sure to put it in the crate as not to soak it in the mushy carpet. He pulled off his damp tee shirt quickly, and with a cool flourish flick he placed it on the backpack. The hoodie had a surprisingly thick and durable feel to it. Pulling it over his head, and pushing his arms into the sleeves, he was instantly warm AND thankful for Helloo, Kittaay…
His sudden appreciation for this cute cat sweater was evident as he gently smoothed down the wrinkles of his sleeves, and adjusted the huge hood on his back. Noticing the kangaroo pocket on the front of the hoodie, Parker smiled and put his hands inside. Ahhh… warm…
“It’s all about the freakin little things I guess” he said, reaching for the damp shirt.
Parker wasn’t willing to give up his damp tee shirt just yet, so he tied it onto the back of his pack in the hopes that it would dry while exposed to the air.
He unzipped the big rear section of the back pack, and stuffed the medium and XXL hoodies he set aside into it. Closing and zipping it up again, “Never know when Kitty clones may come in handy”, Parker was wearing a big smile as he re-shouldered his bag containing his newly appreciated treasures.
“I’m such a damn dork” he laughed, sounding slightly more sane this time.
Then, the light above him snapped off.
Comments (1)
See all