This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.
The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/Dizzy-Honeydew-7786 on 2025-10-25 06:00:55+00:00.
The day the eviction notice came down, I knew—that was my death sentence.
The landlord threw all my junk onto the sidewalk. I was at the point where I genuinely wondered what the hell the meaning of life was. I slept in my broken-down old car for three days, surviving on convenience store discount bread.
Then, one night, I saw the ad. “Community Pool Night Manager. Free on-site housing.”
I thought: this wasn’t a job, it was a lifeline.
The manager was a skeletal old man with skin so pale he looked drained. He showed me the “dorm,” a small room right next to the pump house. It reeked of chlorine. But it had a bed. A roof. To me, it was a five-star hotel.
Before signing, he handed me a stained, crumpled piece of paper.
“These are the rules for the night shift,” he coughed, his eyes cold as ice.
“You follow them. That’s the condition for you staying here.” I didn’t care about the rules then. Just let me sleep.
I quickly glanced over them. It read:
Rules for the Pool After Dark
- At 10:03 PM, no matter what you hear — splashing, voices, anything — stay away from the deep end.
- If you see your reflection acting strange (like… not copying you), kill the lights and leave immediately. Don’t come back for at least three minutes.
- At 11:00 PM, the lights will cut out for one minute. That’s “system maintenance.” If you feel anything move, freeze. Don’t breathe. Don’t make a sound.
- If the PA system plays children’s laughter when it shouldn’t, run. Don’t look back. Don’t stop until it’s silent.
- If you fall into the water, never let your head go under. Keep your mouth and nose above the surface no matter what.
I pocketed the list, thinking, Is this old dude messing with me? But I didn’t say it aloud. I just smiled and nodded.
“Any problems?” the manager asked stonily. “No, none! I’m grateful to be here.” “Good. You start tonight. You can rest now.” The pallor and coldness never left his face. For a second, I wondered if I was even talking to a human.
The first week was smooth. The night pool was quiet, the pump hum was a lullaby. I truly thought I’d struck gold.
Until Wednesday night. I was doing the shock chlorination. I was near the deep end when I heard a splash. My heart nearly exploded. I checked the wall clock—10:03 PM. I immediately backed away, scrambling to my room. Nothing happened that night. I told myself it was just old pipes. I have to believe that. Where else can I go?
I became obsessive. I watched the clock and stayed far from the deep end. But one night, while skimming the surface, the reflection changed.
It wasn’t just me.
Next to my shadow, two extra arms slowly split away from my sides. They crept up my reflection… up my chest, up my neck—stopping right at my throat, poised to squeeze. I screamed, stumbled backward, killed all the lights, and sprinted back to my room.
I checked my reflection in a glass of water. Just me. No extra hands.
The next day I went to the manager. He listened, then replied with the same dead tone: “The rules are clear, aren’t they?” “You just have to follow them. Otherwise, pay the contract breach fee, and you can walk away.”
Leaving flashed through my mind, but the fee was a joke. I pictured freezing in my car. No. I can’t leave. I just have to follow the rules.
But the terror kept escalating. At 11 PM, the lights cut out. I stood still, pressed against the wall. But I heard footsteps.
Slosh… Slosh…
Wet, bare feet on the tiles. The sound came from the other end, slowly walking towards me. One step. Another step. I couldn’t bear it. I flinched, retreating one step along the wall. In that instant, whatever it was broke its pace. It charged. Just as I was about to run, the minute was up. The lights came on. The pool was empty. No footprints. The whole thing felt like a horrible dream.
I was breaking. I knew then: no amount of money was worth another second here.
I decided to leave that night, quietly. To hell with the fee. I packed my bag.
Suddenly, my phone rang. Not a call. The radio app. The sound of children laughing and splashing.
I have never installed a radio app.
Rule four smashed into my head. “…run out of the building…”
I jumped up, but it was too late. The laughter wasn’t just coming from my phone. It was coming from the walls, the floor, the ceiling. The whole room was filled with the echoing, distorted sound of children playing underwater.
I slammed the door open. The main hall was flooding. No… not water.
It was a black, thick, stinking liquid. It was already at my ankles. No time to think. I ran along the slippery tiles towards the exit.
My foot slid.
I screamed, falling sideways into the shallow end of the pool.
The black, stinking liquid instantly enveloped me. An ice-cold, malicious will seeped into my skin. Rule five. The final warning. I kicked and fought, using every ounce of strength to keep my head up.
Just as my face was about to go under, I saw it.
Beneath the surface, it wasn’t water. It was a black ocean of writhing arms and open eyes, all reaching for me. Malicious whispers overlapped, trying to claw into my mind.
I let out a primal howl, scrambled out of the pool, and covered myself in the disgusting slime. I had followed the last rule. I had made it.
I stumbled to the glass doors and threw them open. The liquid miraculously stopped, not spilling past the threshold. I ran out.
The community was dead silent. A security guard saw me, covered in black slime. His expression…
Was he shocked by my state? Or by the fact that I actually got out?
Did I really escape?
I can feel that something came out with me. I’m curled up in my old car now, typing this on my last few phone battery bars.
But I can still smell the rot. And all around me, I hear the continuous… laughter of children.
It’s 3:17 AM, and I just hope I can see the warm sunlight tomorrow.