This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/jay33d on 2024-11-06 04:19:17+00:00.

I thought it was a prank when I found the door. Nothing in my apartment building had ever stood out, not in the three years I’d lived here. So, when I discovered a new laundry room at the end of my floor’s hallway, I was more confused than anything.

The door was heavy, old-looking, with a metal handle worn smooth. It shouldn’t have been there. Our laundry room was on the basement level, and I knew every inch of this hallway. But that night, after a double shift at work, I was too exhausted to argue with my own curiosity.

The door groaned as I pushed it open, and I swear it smelled like burnt plastic mixed with something sweet and rotten, like fruit left out in the sun. I don’t know why I walked in, or why I didn’t turn around when I felt a wave of nausea hit. All I know is that, in one step, everything changed.

I wasn’t in my building anymore.

The air felt heavier, thicker, and the walls were grimy, covered in streaks of something dark and sticky. It was the same hallway layout, but the colors were off, a sickly yellow cast that came from dim, buzzing lights overhead. I didn’t recognize anything, but part of me thought it was a weird dream, that maybe I’d fallen asleep in the hallway.

Then I saw the first person.

A woman shuffled out of a nearby door, her face gaunt, with deep sunken eyes and skin so pale it looked like paper. Her clothes were rags, hanging off her like they were too heavy. She looked at me with empty, hollow eyes, then tilted her head. I took a step back, instinctively.

“You got any spare?” she croaked, her voice barely a whisper.

“Spare…?” I stammered.

“Something to trade,” she replied, her eyes flicking to a bundle in her arms. I hadn’t noticed it before—a small, wriggling shape wrapped in what looked like dirty towels. I realized with a sickening jolt that it was a baby, crying weakly.

I backed away, horrified. “I—I don’t have anything. I don’t even know where I am.”

Her mouth twisted into a snarl, and I took off down the hallway, heart pounding in my ears. The world outside my building should have been the familiar street view, but instead, the sky was an unnatural shade of red, casting an eerie glow over everything. It was Willsborough, all right—there was the old gas station at the end of the road—but everything was in ruins. Crumbling buildings lined the street, graffiti scrawled in languages I didn’t recognize, and trash piled high in the gutters. The smell was worse out here, like decay.

As I wandered, it became clear that this wasn’t my town. At least, not anymore.

Everywhere I looked, people were bartering strange, twisted items for things I couldn’t comprehend: scraps of plastic, chunks of rusted metal, jars filled with what looked like teeth. The worst was when I saw a man in a tattered suit hand over a wailing infant to another man in exchange for a small vial filled with a thick, amber liquid. The man held it up to the light and took a long, savoring sip, his eyes closing in satisfaction.

I must have stared too long, because he looked at me, his eyes narrowing. I ducked around the corner, my mind racing. This couldn’t be real. This was… some kind of nightmare, right?

But then I saw my own reflection in a broken store window, and it was me—tired, terrified, wearing my work uniform and clutching my phone like a lifeline. It was all real.

As I stumbled further into this nightmarish version of my town, I noticed a group of people huddled around a street corner, murmuring in low voices. One of them saw me and nudged the others. They all turned at once, like a pack of animals catching the scent of prey. Their faces were gaunt, their skin stretched tight over their bones. The tallest of them grinned, his teeth sharpened to points.

“Fresh meat,” he rasped, and they began to approach me slowly, like they were savoring the moment.

I backed away, ready to bolt, but they were faster than they looked. One of them lunged, grabbing my arm in a vice grip. I struggled, feeling his claws dig into my skin as he pulled me closer, his breath hot and sour against my neck. I kicked, thrashed, anything to get free, but the others circled me, their eyes hungry.

Just as I felt his teeth graze my skin, there was a bright, blinding flash.

Then… I was back in the hallway. The normal one, outside my apartment door.

I scrambled back, my chest heaving as I looked around, but everything was just as it should be. The peeling wallpaper, the faint hum of the heater, the soft fluorescent light. No sickly yellow glow, no smell of decay. Just… home.

But there was something wrong.

My arm was still bleeding from where the man had grabbed me, deep red lines seeping through my shirt. I touched it, half-expecting it to be gone, just a phantom pain from the nightmare. But it hurt—badly. And then, I noticed the smell. That same sickly sweet odor from the laundry room, lingering around me.

I thought I’d escaped, that I was safe. But when I went to type this all out, my phone pinged with a notification.

It was a message from an unknown number. I clicked it open, hands shaking.

“We know you’re here.”

Another notification buzzed in.

“See you at 3:33.”

I dropped my phone. The screen stayed lit, the message glaring back at me, impossible to ignore. I don’t know what’s going to happen when the clock strikes 3:33. I’m afraid to find out.

And I don’t know if I’ll be here to tell you what happens next.