The girl in the Mist(creepy pasta fan fiction)

Room 337

I recall the conversation that Mr. Slenderman and Marco had in the office as we walk away from Lost Silver's room. Were those Unknown the things that Mr. Slenderman had warned us to be careful around? They didn't seem all that dangerous to me. Then again, the meeting was so brief, I couldn't even begin to figure out why they freaked me out so much. Lost didn't even say goodbye to us when we left.

I also remembered them talking about some kind of event happening later tonight. Maybe it was a party? I like parties.

Marco and I were walking towards the staircase again. This time when we passed it we stopped at the first door we came to on our right. It was covered in scratches, and there was nothing spectacular differentiating it from any of the other doors. Opening it revealed another staircase. It was much narrower than the stairs neighboring it, and this one was also going up.

After climbing for what felt like forever we reached the very top. It was weird because the room looked a lot like my attic at home. There was one slanted window, and two more doors: one to our left, and one to our right. In the center of the room lay a bunch of children's toys, dolls and small packets of Play-Doh.

Marco seemed to take a moment to listen to something. Then he gestured for me to follow him over to the door on the left. The knob itself looked shiny, it was a singed bronze color and appeared no different from any of the other door knobs around the house. I looked at Marco unsure of what he wanted me to do.

"You have to open it yourself." He said, smiling kindly at me.

I turned back to the door, and then carefully, as if reaching out to touch the head of a cobra, twisted the door knob open. Screeeeeeeeech. The old, craggy wooden door creaked open. Inching inward on its own as if drawing me in; like the only thing that had stopped it from doing so beforehand was my permission.

The door opened, and it was like watching a beast draw in a breath. The room behind the door was small, box-like. Nothing spectacular, a bedroom. A small cot on a rickety looking thin white metal frame was placed in a corner; it was farthest from the barred window, which took up most of the room. The window was huge, larger than the other two in the main room of this attic. It had imposing-looking vertical metal bars strung across it, which made the room kind of feel like a jail cell.

There wasn't anything else, no toys, no bedside table, no dresser. There was nothing, but the only thing that came to my mind as I looked at the room was home.

The window rattled a bit. "Wow," Marco whistled. "I haven't seen a room so happy since Masky moved back in." Even as he spoke the room seemed to be shifting. The craggy door that I had touched became more smooth, and less creaky. The wooden floors looked more glossy than they had before. The window even gained a slight hint of fog as the room itself seemed to become suddenly warmer. I could feel something worming in the back of my mind. It was probably Yllek trying to reclaim consciousness.

"What do you mean?" I asked him, wondering what he was talking about. I didn't know much, but one thing I did know for sure was that rooms don't feel things like "happy".

He didn't answer my question; instead, he gave me the instructions to settle down, and familiarize myself with the room. "Make it your own." Marco has said before leaving. He also told me to come downstairs later for a surprise, but gave me specific instructions not to come downstairs too soon.

"How will I know when to come down?" I had asked him. He scratched his cheek and smiled at me, "Oh, you'll know."