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You hear thrown around stories of the image called "The Backrooms". It showed up some time in 2019 sure, but it's been there for much, much, much longer.
My first encounter was in 1997. My friend Oz and I were 6 at the time. I lived in this big house, not big enough for a mansion but not small enough for it to be considered petite. It was nice, but the good times wouldn't last. Behind my house was a forest. It wasn't dense or ominous. It wasn't something that would creep anyone out. There was never anything strange or off. It was just a random forest where he and I played.
It was summer. Just an ordinary summer which would be spent licking popsicles and playing with water balloons. Oz and I were loud and rowdy, going on adventures as all boys our age did. Our favorite place was this clearing in the forest. It was our secret hideout. Around a year ago we had asked our dads to build a treehouse on the lone oak tree that stood at the center. The ground wasn't owned by anyone. It was free property and we had staked our claim on it.
It was mostly us two playing. Occasionally we would have another friend or our family come play. The game of the day which we had chosen was Hide and Seek. Nothing should have gone wrong, but rarely do people get what they want. It was my turn to Seek and I could remember hearing Oz's tiny feet scamper across the floorboards. He had climbed down the ladder which led up to the treehouse. I was smiling and counting to 10. 1. Tap tap. 2. Tap tap. 3. Tap tap. 4. Crunch. 5. Crunch Crunch. 6. AAAAAHHHHH.
When I reached six a bloodcurdling scream echoed through the forest. I got startled and called out to Oz. No reply. Again I called out. Still the answer remained the same, no reply. Worry flashed through my mind at the thought of Oz getting hurt. He never had played these kinds of tricks, and I didn't think he'd start now. I ran in search. Six seconds, how far could he have gone?
I searched and just past the outskirts of our small hideout sat Oz's shoe. It was laying on its side, as though thrown off by him in an attempt to escape something.
Three things stuck out to me. First the musky smell which was almost like a dying carcass. Next, the sound of static, like that of channel 87. And lastly, something I'll always remember, was what was stuck to Oz's shoe, almost like a fluorescent yellow ooze. When I picked it up, the sound started to dissipate and the smell along with it, but the yellow remained, as though covered in the light of the bulbs in the department store off of 43.
I went to the creek and tried to remove it, but it didn't smudge or fade. It just remained there, the hue marking my mind. I ran home, face stricken with fear, mind in a frenzy of worry and confusion. I got home and told my dad. He phoned Oz's dad and all three of us went out to search. We were out there day after day for a month, starting well before the sun came up, and ending only after sunset. We searched every inch of that forest again and again, fully searching it almost seven times. No sign of Oz.
They put up a grave for him soon after, and slowly everyone forgot about him. Not me though, I kept the shoe. It still remained there after 15 years. I always kept it in perfect shape. At first it was because I thought he would come back, but even after I realized he wasn't going to, I kept cleaning it every week religiously.
