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The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/jebstewart on 2024-09-22 20:41:02+00:00.

It wasn’t entirely uncommon to see various stores come and go along our local strip mall. In fact, I recall purchasing a grill from ‘Armstrongs Hardware’ in the same building that had been a chinese buffet only a month prior. The stores came and they went, a tale of another family unable to make ends meet.

Not much changed around the Oakfield area outside of the carousel of businesses. The local skatepark remained dead and the bowling alley had become a hot spot for purchasing shitty weed and laced coke. School numbers had remained on the decline since the turn of the century as families filed out one after the other. 

Anyways, I suppose that’s a good enough history lesson on the quaint town of Oakfield, Illinois. A once promising city that would be lucky to be classified as a village now. 

Here I am, once a man, lucky to be classified as a bum now. 

I’d made a decent living and a good name for myself during my tenure at the Oakfield Cafe. The food wasn’t necessarily fancy but that’s okay, it brought the town comfort. Good ol’ fashioned soul food. However, things took a turn during Covid and we were forced to shut the place down. I’ve been unable to hold down anything ever since, outside of the occasional freelance job.

The morning I happened upon ‘Rileys Fungeon’ had been like many which had come before it, in fact, it had seemed markedly better. The air was cool and crisp, the Fall was easing in and washing out the heat of a long, dry Summer. A perfect day for some job hunting.

My parents had always told me that it’s better to apply in person than online. So that’s exactly what I did. I threw on my cleanest white shirt (all the others had paint stains from previous jobs) and a pair of blue jeans and out I went. 

I had been actively avoiding applying at the bowling alley so I decided to see if any new stores popped up at the strip mall since my last visit. My beat up, old civic bounced and lurched along the decaying roads, fighting the monstrous potholes along the entrance of the malls parking lot. 

In total, the row of buildings could house five stores, though it seemed one of them always remained vacant. Starting from the left was the longest tenured of the five, a laundromat which never seemed to have an employee present. No dice. 

Next to that was ‘Blue’s Supermarket’, which probably accounted for 90% of the traffic in the mall. Unfortunately, I’d already applied there at least half a dozen times and had yet to hear anything back. Might be worth another shot. 

Then, right there in the middle, was exactly what I’d hoped for. A new store, a new possibility for employment. 

‘Riley’s Fungeon’, the scarlet-colored sign read. Weird name, but it was worth a shot. 

The door to my Civic squealed in protest as I pushed it open and slid out. I peered up at the sign with the funny name again before pushing the door shut and making my way to the building. I wish I could say that I had felt some sort of the ominous foreboding as I walked up to Rileys Fungeon, but rather it was a sort of cautious optimism. Truthfully, I felt great, like I’d already got the job offer and my financial burdens would soon be a thing of the past.

Those dreams were promptly crumbled up and shot into outer space as soon as I made my way inside. 

A victorian-esque couch, the color of crimson, sat lonely in the middle of the vacant room. Several lamps, which hung from the wall, cast a golden hue over the dark, wooden floors. The darkness seemed absolute outside of the lamps glow. All the windows were shrouded by curtains which matched the couches’ red hue. 

As odd as it all seemed, it was somewhat comforting. 

My footsteps fell especially loudly in the empty room. This may sound weird, but at that moment  I was sure that I was the only soul in the room. 

As I came closer to the red couch, I noticed a short, mahogany desk sat directly in front of it. Its top was no more than a foot above the floor. A metal box stood in the middle of the desk, with a yellow button protruding from the top. 

“Hello?”, my voice echoed much like my footsteps had. Nobody answered.

Against any rational judgement, I decided to take a seat.

Almost instantly, two more lamps directly in front of me turned on, revealing a chalkboard. In perfect cursive it read, ‘Welcome to Rileys Fungeon, where your wish is our command. Ask the box anything and press the button. Remember, it all comes with a price”. 

The creeps had thoroughly settled in by this point, my heart had begun pounding furiously. What did any of it mean? Anything? I mean, really, anything? 

I sat dumbfounded on that couch for a while, reading its message repeatedly. ‘It all comes with a price’, I thought, all too aware of the empty wallet sitting in my pocket. Though, even then, I had a feeling that wasn’t the kind of price it meant. 

“Hello?”, I called out once more, hoping somebody, anybody would come clarify what this all meant. Obviously, it couldn’t be real. This had to be some sort of gag store for some assholes Youtube channel or Tiktok. 

I looked around the room again, studying the shadows between the lamps glow. No matter how long I looked into those shadows, no matter how long I let my eyes adjust to that darkness, they couldn’t seem to penetrate through that pitch black. 

I shifted in my seat, suddenly aware of the fact that I was sitting alone in a dark room of a place called ‘Rileys Fungeon’. Maybe people in horror movies aren’t as dumb as people make them out to be… or maybe I’m just the perfect person to play such a role.

Once again, against any rational thought, I decided to press the button. As my finger lifted from the glowing button, I went still, expecting someone or something to emerge from the shadows and either snatch me up or laugh and scream that I had just been ‘pranked’. Neither happened. 

I returned my gaze to the chalkboard. ‘Ask the box anything’, it said. As greedy as this makes me sound, it took little time for me to decide on my wish. Rent wasn’t going to pay itself. 

“I need eight hundred dollars… please?”, I said. At first, nothing happened. I sat there feeling like an idiot, getting ready to hop up from the couch and continue my job search elsewhere. Then, from one of those inky shadows in the corner of the room, I could hear  the squeal of a door on its rusted hinges.

I froze.

A tall, slender figure began to materialize through the darkness. I wanted to bolt so badly, but it felt as though my body was frozen in time. 

A man, or what I assume was a man, emerged  from the shadows. He was adorned in a black suit with matching black pants. He wore a mask over his face, a mask which looked like it was straight from a Victorian masquerade party. The mask had a long, skinny nose and no mouth… its eyes appeared to be sewn shut.

In his hand was a large, silver platter with a dome concealing its contents. He walked swiftly and without hesitation. At once, he stood directly over me, his gaze never meeting my own. He lifted the platters sparkling dome. 

Upon it, were eight perfect stacks of hundred dollar bills… and a razor. As my shaky hands drew near my prospective rent funds, the man raised his hand like a cross guard trying to stop a car. 

Instead, he lifted the razor.

I looked at the razor and then at him, though he seemed to be fixated on something beyond me.

“What do I do with it?”, I asked, cringing at the weakness of my cracking voice. I turned my gaze back to the chalkboard, which revealed a new message. 

‘Shave one of your eyebrows off’, it said. 

“That’s it?”, I asked the man, though I was sure he wouldn’t answer. If I had to walk around for a month or so looking like an idiot, at least I’d  have an apartment to hide in the meantime. I plucked the razor from his gloved hand and promptly erased of my eyebrows. 

I set the razor back on the platter when I was done and scooped up the stacks of bills. My feet were unsteady as I walked haphazardly to the door, looking back one more time before thanking the silent man and leaving. 

Rent was paid on time that month. 

My insides felt slimy and sick for a while after using the services of Rileys Fungeon. Though I wish I could say that feeling had stopped me from ever returning. Over the following months I had returned for various things, ranging from more help with my financial burdens or the occasional steak dinners. All of the requests had remained fairly innocent.

Once I had to shave my entire head bald, another time they made me flip my eyelids open. Though, sometimes, they were a bit more… ominous. Once I had to smash one of my fingers with a hammer, which had broken it, though the money I got was able to pay for a doctors visit and more. 

They’d also made me pull one of my teeth after I requested a little help in the dating scene. But it was more than worth it after my recent influx of female visitors.

Truthfully, life was good. But, as it was programmed in my lizard brain, humans simply cannot let a good thing be. I figured if I got one big lump sum that I would never have to return to the Fungeon. But, I had to be smart, I had to be.

If I asked for a million dollars, could you imagine what horrible shit they’d make me do? I couldn’t let that happen. I needed help.

The trees were barren at this point and a thin layer of sleet had taken up residence on the sidewalk leading to my grandmothers home. She was more than excited to see her seldom present grandson knocking at t…

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