HORROR COMPILATION STORIES— THE BACKROOM
Level 1 — The Retail Nightmare
The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, their sickly glow failing to penetrate the oppressive gloom that clung to the deserted mall. Row upon row of empty storefronts stretched into an endless nightmare. Mannequins, posed in frozen smiles and lifeless gestures, lined the walkways — their painted eyes seeming to follow me with an unsettling intensity.
The piped-in music, once a cheery jingle promoting a long-gone sale, had morphed into a distorted cacophony. The once-familiar tune now resembled the rhythmic scraping of metal against bone, sending shivers down my spine.
Hunger gnawed at my stomach, a stark reminder of how long I’d been trapped in this retail purgatory. But the thought of scavenging for expired food amongst those vacant smiles was enough to turn my stomach.
Suddenly, a crackle of static erupted from the hidden speakers, followed by a voice. It was distorted, stretched beyond recognition, yet oddly familiar.
“Attention all patrons,” it rasped, the words echoing through the vast emptiness. “The Elm Street Mall is now closed. All remaining personnel are to report to the security office immediately. Failure to comply will result in… termination.”
A cold sweat prickled my skin. Termination? What did that even mean in this twisted reality? I quickened my pace, desperate to find an exit, any exit, to escape this chilling announcement.
But as I rounded a corner, another voice boomed from the speakers, closer this time, a manic edge creeping into its tone. “We have detected unauthorized activity in the southeast wing. Security personnel are en route. Please remain calm and await assistance.”
Panic surged in my chest. Security personnel? My gaze darted nervously to the mannequins, their painted smiles seeming to widen in a grotesque mockery. Were they the security personnel?
The voice crackled back to life, laced with an unnerving glee. “Excellent. We’ve located the intruder. Prepare for… termination.”
The lights flickered ominously, plunging the mall into a momentary darkness. When they sputtered back to life, the mannequins were gone.
A bloodcurdling scream echoed through the dead air, followed by a sickening crunch and a wet, squelching sound. My breath hitched in my throat. It wasn’t a scream of defiance, but of absolute terror, a chilling reminder of the fate that awaited me.
Driven by primal fear, I sprinted down the endless hallway, the distorted music warping into a demented chase theme. My lungs burned, my legs screamed in protest, but I dared not stop. The warped voice continued to taunt me, its location seemingly shifting, always just out of sight.
As I rounded another corner, a single mannequin stood in the middle of the walkway, its painted grin wider, more menacing than ever before. One vacant eye seemed to follow me, a single black teardrop rolling down its painted cheek. As I stared, frozen in terror, the teardrop grew, morphing into a thick, inky liquid that began to ooze down the mannequin’s face, forming a grotesque smile.
Then, with a horrifying lurch, the mannequin came to life. Its limbs contorted at unnatural angles, its painted smile stretching into a monstrous maw lined with razor-sharp teeth. The distorted voice boomed one last time, a chilling promise before the mannequin lunged.
“Welcome… to your termination.”
