**Eric the Awful Glitches to the Backrooms**
Prompt: Eric the awful glitches to the Backrooms
Eric had always been a digital aficionado, a wizard with code and pixels. His friends often joked that he had a love affair with technology, spending long nights hunched over his laptop in their shared apartment, typing away in a caffeine-fueled frenzy. He could make a computer sing; he could make it dance. But what nobody expected was that his latest project would inadvertently lead him to one of the darkest corners of the internet—or perhaps the universe itself.
One rainy evening, driven by curiosity and a newfound obsession with the Backrooms phenomenon, Eric decided to conduct an experiment. The Backrooms were an urban legend, a sprawling, endless maze of yellow wallpapered rooms filled with the hum of fluorescent lights, echoing with the whispers of those who had become trapped. Online forums were saturated with stories about these mysterious spaces, and the more Eric read, the more fascinated he became.
He had a theory: what if he could glitch his way into the Backrooms through his computer? If they were indeed a digital manifestation, maybe he could manipulate space and code to access their depths. He called his project “Glitch Play.” Each line of code was carefully crafted, designed to disrupt reality itself.
As the clock struck midnight, Eric pressed “Enter” on the last line of code. What followed was a series of flickering lights and a digital cacophony that filled the room. Suddenly, the air thickened, and a strange heaviness enveloped him, like an unseen force pulling him down. It was dizzying. He felt as if he was being stretched and compressed simultaneously.
Then it happened. With a blinding flash, everything went dark.
When Eric opened his eyes, he was no longer in his cramped apartment. Instead, he blinked under the harsh glare of fluorescent lights, surrounded by monotone yellow walls that felt unnervingly close. The air was stale, and a low buzzing sound vibrated through the room. He was in the Backrooms—just like he had wanted, yet vastly different from what he had envisioned.
His heart raced as he stumbled to his feet. He was in a long, endless corridor, stretching out in every direction, disappearing into the murk. Confused, he took a few tentative steps forward, the sound of his sneakers echoing off the walls. Eric wasn’t alone; he could hear the distant sounds of sobbing and murmurs mixing with the terrible hum in the air. Panic began to set in.
“Hello?” he called out, trying to sound brave despite the chill running down his spine.
No response.
He paused, contemplating how he had caused this bizarre turn of events. Was it really just a glitch? The tension in the air felt too tangible, as if the backrooms themselves were alive, observing him, waiting for him to make a mistake.
With shaky breaths, he chose a direction randomly and walked deeper into the endless maze. The fluorescent lights flickered overhead, creating sporadic shadows that danced along the walls. Each room he passed looked eerily similar; nothing but peeling wallpaper and empty spaces. As he made his way through, he couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched.
Minutes turned to hours, and the oppressive atmosphere weighed heavily on him. Bolting down another corridor, he suddenly stumbled upon something that sent chills down his spine—a door, nestled between the walls, with whispered voices seeping through the cracks. Had he not been so desperate for human contact, he might have turned back. But Eric’s curiosity overpowered his fear.
He pushed the door open, stepping into a new chamber filled with strange figures. They all looked disoriented, some with wild eyes and tangled hair, while others sat in silence, their gazes vacant and distant.
“Are you okay?” Eric ventured.
A woman in the corner turned her head toward him, her eyes wide with terror. “You shouldn’t be here,” she whispered. “You don’t know what this place does to you.”
“What do you mean? How did you get here?” Eric asked, his heart racing.
“The Backrooms take pieces of you—your memories, your will to escape. You don’t belong here.” Her voice trembled with each word.
He recalled the tales he’d read online, of those who had vanished inside. “I…I just wanted to see it.”
“Você não pode ver! (You can’t see!)” Another voice shouted, sending ripples of fear through the room. “No one returns from the Backrooms. You’re trapped now.”
Feeling the weight of despair pressing in from all sides, Eric stumbled back into the hallway, determination fleeting. If he had entered through a glitch, perhaps he could exit the same way. He had to think, to refocus. His mind raced back to the code he had crafted—was there a way to manipulate it again?
With a new purpose igniting within him, Eric began exploring the corridors, looking for glitches, distortions—anything that could provide a clue. He noticed that the lights would flicker in patterns every so often, as if they were signaling something. Each flicker felt like a pulse, urging him to pay attention.
Suddenly, the buzzing intensified, and he recalled the fragmented realities he had read about. Eric closed his eyes, focusing intently. He mentally retraced his steps, searching for a way to reverse the glitch that had brought him here.
With a spark of hope mingled with fear, he whispered the phrase he used before launching his project, “Restore.” The lights flickered violently, and for a moment, the walls shifted and rippled like water. He could feel the very fabric of reality around him changing, bending to his will.
Then, with one last burst of energy, Eric opened his eyes again. The familiar sight of his tiny room came into view. He was back, heart racing, hair matted with sweat. The screen of his laptop flickered in warning; code that had gone wrong was spilling across the screen.
He knew he had escaped, but at what cost? The echoes of the Backrooms haunted his mind, and he could still hear the cries of the trapped souls. Eric had glitch out of the Backrooms, but the experience would linger forever, a reminder of the digital hell he had unknowingly unleashed on himself.
