This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/BlairDaniels on 2024-11-18 05:34:07+00:00.

I was sitting on the floor of a yoga studio, in the lotus position. I took a deep breath, and then opened my mouth.

“Try YogaFit free for seven days!”

I froze.

Why did I say that?

Wait… where am I?

I was sitting in a large room that looked like a yoga or dance studio. Except, there was no one else here. Just the huge mirror covering the wall opposite me, and the cool linoleum floor under my lycra-clad tush. The studio was so quiet I could hear a pin drop.

Uh… what?

I cleared my throat.

“Hello? Anyone there?”

My voice came out as barely a whisper, even though I’d meant to shout. I frowned and stood up, starting towards the door—

There was no door.

Wait, what?

I glanced around the room. Four walls, one of which was the gigantic floor-to-ceiling mirror. The other three were painted a sickening shade of beige. No door on any of them.

“Hello?” I called, finally finding my voice this time. “Anyone there?”

Silence.

How did I get here, anyway?

I stood in the center of the room, kneading my temples. I didn’t remember driving here. This wasn’t even my usual yoga studio. I went to the shitty one in the strip mall on 85, where you’d be lucky if you didn’t elbow someone or get an ass to the face. I’d never seen this studio before in my life.

Think. What’s the last thing you remember?

Maddie falling off the bed. Wait… that was a few days ago, wasn’t it? No—the last thing I remembered—was going to the doctor, an ENT for my vertigo. And then…

I didn’t remember coming home.

No, the last thing I remembered was walking in the parking garage, towards my car.

Then everything was blank.

I spun around, scanning the walls again. There wasn’t a door—not even a hidden one, from what I could tell. That made no sense. How did I get in here, then? Unless—

I looked up.

There was a square cut into the ceiling, about five feet above me. Was it some sort of trapdoor? Had I been dropped in that way?

I reached up and jumped—but of course, I couldn’t reach it. I tried a second, then a third time. I cried out in frustration—

The studio tilted in front of me.

Then I was back on the floor.

My arms and legs moved of their own accord, like they were attached to invisible puppet strings. My body twisted into the bridge pose, and speakers buzzed to life overhead. A man’s voice echoed through the studio: “Feeling sluggish and tired? Try the YogaFit app! Only ten minutes a day can double your energy levels and make you feel calm and relaxed.”

My body continued moving. I wanted to scream but my jaws were locked shut. My body stretched into the downward facing dog position, then cat cow, then finally lotus.

I smiled—even though I didn’t want to. Even though every muscle in my body felt like it was fighting against it.

“Try YogaFit free for seven days!” I said in a chipper voice.

Then whatever invisible force was bending my limbs disappeared. I leaned forward, panting, my entire body feeling like it was spasming.

What… the… actual… fuck?

This has to be a dream. Or… maybe I’m having a breakdown. Or something.

I stumbled up. Then I glanced around the room. There had to be some way out of here. Assuming this was real, which was a big if. I scanned the walls, the mirror, looking for something, anything.

Then I saw it.

A flicker of movement in the mirror.

I stared. There was something off about the mirror. I could see my own reflection, my bleached hair and my wide eyes. But there was a dim, sort of bluish light, coming from the mirror itself. I scrambled up and ran over to it. Then I cupped my hands and looked in.

It was a two-way mirror.

I don’t know what I expected to see behind the mirror—maybe some unshaven creep watching me, maybe scientists nodding and taking notes?—but it wasn’t what I saw. Instead I saw a plain, dilapidated room, which was empty except for a camera perched in the center.

It was filming me.

Rage shot through me. I banged my fists on the mirror. “Let me out!” I screamed. “Please! I have kids—please…”

I continued screaming, slamming my fists into the mirror until they ached. The mirror wobbled slightly underneath me, but didn’t give way.

The pain in my fists made me mad.

“LET ME OUT, YOU FUCKERS!” I screamed.

And then I heard it.

Speakers overhead, buzzing to life. I looked up, confused, trying to place the sound. Before I could, a woman’s voice cut through the silence. It sounded mechanical and lifeless.

“User report: offensive ad content.”

And then I screamed.

Buzzing pain coursed through my body. I collapsed to the floor, convulsing wildly. And then, abruptly, the pain cut out.

I quickly figured out what happened.

A thin strip of metal encircled my ankle.

Those fuckers shocked me.

Before I could fully recover, the studio tilted again. “Feeling sluggish and tired?” I was going through the yoga poses against my will again. I finished in a lotus position, and looking straight ahead, I said in a chipper voice:

“Try YogaFit free for seven days!”

Then I was released, again. Breathing hard, I stood up, my legs still wobbly from the pain. I stumbled over to the place under the trapdoor.

There was no way I could reach it.

I glanced around, looking for something, anything I could use to get up there. I walked the perimeter of room, inspecting the wall closely. That’s when I found it—a little door hidden in the drywall, only about four feet tall. I’d missed it before because it was so short, and it looked like it was purposely made to be hidden—the gap between the door and the wall was incredibly thin.

I yanked it open, but it didn’t lead to the outside. It was a little crawlspace, stuffed full with junk. I started riffling through the stuff: some rope, a toolbox, some empty cardboard boxes, and—a stepladder.

Bingo.

I dragged all the stuff over to the area of the floor under the trapdoor. I placed the stepladder first and climbed up it—but I was still too short. Dammit. I grabbed one of the cardboard boxes and balanced it on the top step—

The studio tilted in front of me.

“Feeling sluggish and tired?”

When the invisible force released me again, I glanced around—and to my horror, all the stuff I’d dragged out was gone. I ran over to the closet door—it had been put back, somehow. Like the room itself had magically reset. I yanked out all the stuff, dragged it over to under the trapdoor. Balanced the carboard box on top. I stepped, and the box collapsed halfway under my weight.

I reached up.

I was still six inches short.

I jumped—

“Feeling sluggish and tired?”

My aching body went through the motions again. Bent and posed like I was a doll. I tried to scream, at the top of my lungs, but my jaw was clenched tightly shut.

“Try YogaFit free for seven days!”

As soon as I could move, I scrambled over to the closet. Pulled all the stuff out. Climbed the stepladder. Stacked two boxes. Stood on top—

My body wavered, and then I was falling. My body hit the ground with a sharp snap.

“Feeling sluggish and tired?”

It felt like I’d broken something. I tried to scream as my body tilted down for the downward facing dog. White hot pain shot along my back. Tears rolled down my cheeks. But I couldn’t stop my body from folding into the positions. The pain intensified until it shut everything else out.

“Try YogaFit free for seven days!”

And then I fell face-first onto the yoga mat.

I just lay there, breathing heavily, as the pain began to slowly fade. Minutes went by; and then, of course, the ad started up again. “Feeling sluggish and tired?” My body moved, but it hurt a little less, now.

As soon as the whole thing was over, I scrambled to the closet and grabbed everything out. I climbed the stepladder. Lined up the boxes perfectly on top of each other. I took in a deep breath and climbed. My body wavered to keep my balance, and I stretched up, up, praying I could do it in time—

My fingers pried into the seam of the door.

And then I pulled.

With a loud creak, the door pulled downwards. I poked my head out and grabbed the sides of the opening, pulling myself out.

I was standing on the roof of a huge building. Some kind of warehouse. As I looked around, I realized I’d been here before—I recognized the office building across the street. This was on the south side of Franklin, the town fifteen minutes from us.

I heard the man’s voice through the trapdoor. But somehow, I’d escaped whatever invisible force was holding me there. “Only ten minutes a day…”

I walked to the edge of the roof and screamed for help.

***

My ordeal never made the news. It seemed like no one cared that a woman had been trapped in a building and forced to act in some sort of weird ad against her will. The police said they’d investigate, but it’s been weeks, and I haven’t heard anything. All traces of “YogaFit” seem to have been scrubbed from the internet.

The weird thing is when I tried to search online for what happened to me—without using my name or “YogaFit,” but describing what actually happened—I did find something.

I found comments, on YouTube videos and elsewhere. They varied in text and tone, but they all roughly said the same thing.

Hey… did anyone see that yoga ad just now?

The woman in it…

She seemed really freaked out…

And then she climbed up on some stuff… and tried to escape?