The Backrooms Chronicles I: The Vanishing Halls

PROLOGUE

The morning sun painted the kitchen in warm hues as Luke shuffled downstairs. His black hair stuck out in all directions, and his brown eyes squinted against the light. School awaited, a mundane routine he'd grown accustomed to.

Sam, the older brother, stood at the stove, flipping pancakes with the finesse of a seasoned chef. His tan skin glowed, and his brown hair fell across his forehead in a way that made him look perpetually handsome. His blue eyes met Luke's as he entered the room.

"Morning, little bro," Sam said, flashing a toothpaste-commercial smile. "Ready for another thrilling day of algebra and cafeteria mystery meat?"

Luke yawned, sliding into his chair. "Thrilling is an exaggeration. But yeah, school awaits."

Sam slid a plate of pancakes in front of him. "Eat up, adventurer. You'll need your strength."

Luke took a bite, savoring the syrupy sweetness. "What's on your agenda today, Mr. Wildlife Photographer?"

Sam leaned against the counter, sipping his coffee. "Tracking elusive squirrels, of course. They're plotting world domination, you know."

Luke rolled his eyes. "Sure, Sam. And I'm the squirrel whisperer."

They bantered, their laughter filling the kitchen. Sam was the cool older brother—the one who climbed mountains, wrestled alligators (or so he claimed), and had a perpetual twinkle in his eyes. Luke admired him, even if their interests diverged like parallel universes.

As Luke grabbed his backpack, Sam ruffled his hair. "Off you go, iPad kid. Learn something fascinating."

"Like how to survive a zombie apocalypse?" Luke teased.

Sam winked. "Exactly."

And with that, Luke said his goodbyes, leaving Sam behind in the cozy kitchen. The door closed, and the house settled into its familiar rhythm.

~~

The geography classroom hummed with fluorescent light, its walls adorned with faded maps and globes. Luke sat near the window, his gaze drifting beyond the pane. The teacher's monotonous voice blurred into the background as he daydreamed about distant lands and uncharted territories.

In the corner of his eye, Luke noticed "Zafino"—a fellow student with fiery red hair—leaning over his desk, animatedly whispering to his friends. Their hushed tones carried an air of excitement, and Luke's curiosity piqued. What could be so intriguing that it overshadowed the monotony of geography class?

Zafino's eyes widened as he recounted a tale—a horror theme called The Backrooms. According to him, it was a place that defied reality, a labyrinth of forgotten office spaces and endless yellowed carpets. A realm where flickering fluorescent lights cast eerie shadows, and the air smelled of mildew and despair.

Luke leaned closer, drawn into the narrative. "What's it like?" he asked, his voice barely audible.

Zafino grinned, revealing freckles sprinkled across his cheeks like stardust. "Imagine stepping through a broken door, and suddenly you're there—lost in a maze of beige corridors. No windows, no escape. Just the hum of fluorescent tubes and the distant echo of footsteps."

Luke's pulse quickened. "Is it real?"

Zafino shrugged. "Some say it's a glitch in reality, a place between dimensions. Others claim it's a fever dream, conjured by bored office workers. But those who've been there..." He leaned in, eyes wide. "They say it changes you. Drives you mad."

Before Luke could respond, Mrs. Harrington's stern voice cut through the room. "Luke Schmidt!" Her tone brooked no argument. "Pay attention!"

Luke snapped back to reality, cheeks flushing. "Yes, Mrs. Harrington."