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Et Cetera



Estimated reading time — 9 minutes

I woke up and felt quite anxious about the dim light in the room. I always slept in complete darkness, so naturally, the now apparent luminescence proved to be considerably disturbing. I was still groggy from just having arisen and my eyes had to adjust from the haze of dream in order to better asses the situation. After calming down from the initial shock, I discovered that the light was coming from outside my hotel-room door.

“That’s strange…the hallway lights were turned off before I went to sleep.”

The hotel was old and not well furnished; it was cheap, but I still felt like staying the night was a mistake. I wasn’t sure how many nights I had remained there, but it didn’t really matter. I knew that I would be leaving soon. I deduced that there might be some maintenance going on and dismissed my anger of being woken up as just bad-luck. I didn’t feel very comfortable though and I knew my chances of going back to sleep were slim, especially with the outside hall lights still being on.

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I decided to just lay down and think about nothing for a while, just until whoever had turned on the lights left. I thought about why I was there that night, but I couldn’t give myself an answer. The night was bathed in a surreal air that exuded a sense of dread and danger. I was sweating profusely even though the temperature in the room was at normal levels. My discomfort was rising by the second. I swore at the situation I was in, despite how childish it was.

It seemed as though I was waiting for an eternity; the agitation in my mind rising ever so slightly as the ticks from the clock on the wall continued. I got up from bed and walked towards the door. I figured that whoever had turned the lights on must have walked off and forgotten to turn them back off. I wasn’t too sore about it, but I had to get my rest. If that meant me getting up and fixing the problem myself, then so be it.

I rested my hand on the door knob and froze. A voice in my head told me to stay put where I was. I felt a slight static emitting from beyond the confines of the door. The ticking from the clock became submerged in an ethereal tone and increased in volume. The light shining from underneath the crack of the door became drenched in a reddish hue and I could feel my heart racing beyond comprehension.

I couldn’t explain the emotional response I had. Inquiry was more powerful than horror. I was paralyzed by my analytical nature, but the drive to discover overpowered my fear of danger. It was the stuff of nightmares; I was placed in a situation that everyone dreads to be in, but I had never stopped to think of how I would react in the face of terror. I turned the knob without any further hesitation and took my first steps into the hall.

Initially I was shocked to see my surroundings, but somehow I was slowly numbed to the irrational qualities of the hall I was now observing. The hall seemed to stretch as far as my eyes could see; and the modern electrical lights were replaced by torches. The torches grew dimmer down the hall until they eventually lead to a incomprehensible darkness; a black beyond black. The aforementioned lights also seemed to be emitting a subtle blood-red hue on top of the natural light they provided, but I discarded that harsh reality as a psychological addition my strained mind was creating. The walls were void of the doors that had spotted them before my departure into sleep. The paintings that had been hung from the walls were nonexistent. The ugly wallpaper that had colored the hall beforehand was now replaced with an even uglier bland style of basic brick and mortar.

I let out a deep sigh and felt the breath leaving my mouth to be inexplicably cold. I turned around to see if I had closed the door all the way only to find that the door was no longer there. I had no escape now; there was no turning back and that thought brought a new sense of disparity in my heart. I was utterly terrified, but I had no choice except to continue down the clandestine hallway. Each step echoed a thousand reverberations. Each stride brought more darkness and soon, I was bracing myself up against the wall as to ensure that I wouldn’t accidentally walk into something. The walls were moistened and they left a clammy sensation in my body. My core temperature was plummeting as I could now clearly see the condensation in my breath.

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“Come here.”

At first I heard the plea as a faint whisper. I ignored it, naturally, but my instincts told me that dismissing the words may not give the ideal result. Nevertheless, it would be pointless to feed my paranoia any further. I kept walking slowly toward the end of he hall, but for every step I made, the halls seemed to be morbidly stretching out to the same length. Suddenly, the walls began to ungulate whenever I pressed my hands against them for support. They felt as though they were made of some organic material, but I wasn’t going to let that hinder my progress.

“Come here. Now.”

This time, the demand was more rigid in nature. My spine became weak at the thought of turning around in the darkness of the hall, but once again, I found myself unable to disregard my curiosity. In the distance – almost back to where I had started my journey – I saw an elderly man. He looked extremely decrepit, almost to the point of a corpse. I thought maybe he had stumbled upon this unfathomable realm the same way I had and as I started to focus my sight towards him, I noticed that the door back to my room had now thrusted itself back into existence! I remembered back to my unfortunate decision to walk into the hall without concern for the door. I also remembered that, by extension, the door would vanish if I didn’t warn the old man.

I rushed over to him, screaming the whole way over for him not to take anymore steps outward. He looked at me and seemed terribly frightened. As I approached him, I noticed that he was almost naked and that he was covered in blood. His eyes were blank with fear and the wrinkles surrounding his face were made more apparent due to his contorted face. As I neared him, hands outstretched to maintain balance, he quickly latched himself onto the door. He frantically opened the threshold and managed to race inside before slamming the door in my face.

I was crestfallen. Hysteria was racing in my body as I could not fathom why the old man had doomed me in this hellish hall. The door faded from sight and I was once again trapped to endlessly wander the nightmarish corridor. I opened my eyes and noticed that they had begun to adjust to the darkness. Furthermore, noticed that the torches closer to the door had been extinguished. I thought to myself that the light must bring the door back to this plane of existence and I quickly looked around for any means of lighting them. There was nothing of course, but I had to at least try.

All that was available to me were two small rocks, I surmised that my best bet of escape was to see if I could cause sparks to ignite the torches. After much tribulation and frustration, I managed get one of the fixtures aflame. I used it to pass the fire onto the other torches, but no matter how long I held the flame to the unlit torches farther from the “entrance,” they never seemed to be a bright as the ones closer to where the old man had fled to. I waited what seemed like hours hoping and praying that the door would reappear, but my suffering was to no avail. I had no choice but to continue further down the hall and my sorrowful apathy for the predicament I now faced seemed beyond comprehension.

I managed to make my way down the hall further than I had before. In the blackness of the shadows that was now my home, I could sense the hallway getting narrower. I started to cry at my misfortune and I could feel breath on the back of my neck, despite knowing that I was all alone. I dared not look behind me; I could feel the grip of death slowly closing on me. The walls became more globulous and it wasn’t before long that each press of my hand caused a splatter of some unknown liquid upon my face and clothes.

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I was no longer in a hallway, I was in a secret catacomb that defied the laws of reality. Spiked protrusions were scattered throughout the walls now and although I could not see them, I felt them scraping against my skin and clothes. The hall became so narrow that the spikes from the opposite side started to rip into my clothes and flesh. The pain was indescribably horrific, almost to the point that I considered just laying down to die rather than face this dilemma any further.

Eventually I could feel a small draft coming from ahead of me. I carefully positioned my body in-between the protrusions as to avoid any more bodily harm, but at the cost of moving at a snails pace. It wasn’t before long that I reached a dead-end and my fear turned to rage. I pounded my fist against the wall and was shocked at the feebleness of the material. I moved my hand slowly over the surface and noticed how unbelievably smooth it felt compared to the rest of the hall. Patiently, I slid my hand further down the side if the obstacle and found a handle. The pure relief that surrounded my being was overwhelming.

“Finally,” I mumbled. “I’ve found an escape.”

I wasted no time revealing the new room, but as soon as I entered – I discovered my situation was equally as bleak as before. The room that I had found myself in was identical to the room I had awoken in, except it was entirely upside-down. The bed, the furniture, and the paintings were all fastened to the ceiling by some unknown force. The tears were continuing to stream down my face and I closed my eyes in contempt for the implication that I would never rid myself of this hell. In the darkness of my being I heard the wild panting of a rabid beast accompanied with the scraping of talons against stone. Whether it was an actual threat to my safety or just a figment of my imagination, I cared not. I just wanted my distress to end, regardless of how that end would be brought about. I opened my eyes to face the beast, but just as my sight returned to me – the noises ceased. Across the room, however, I noticed another door.

At this point, I was unsure if I wanted to leave the general safety of this room for the possible dangers outside. The only viable solution was to open the door and keep my hand on the handle until I was aware of my surroundings. I slowly turned the handle and veered my body out into the space I had exposed. Not to my surprise, I was staring out into the same hall I had just broken free of and my willingness to venture further was as empty as the dark void I was staring into. I started to realize how my body felt weak and worn. I had persevered through this trial, but at the consequence to my health. My lifeblood was slowly exiting my cognizance and I knew I didn’t have much time left.

In the distance, I could hear footsteps. I tried to squint my eyes to see if there was anyone out there that could help me, but I knew that I would have to pursue the sounds and leave the door behind in order to see more clearly. I realized that the only way I would be able to make myself known was if I yelled. It seemed risky, but I had no choice; I wasn’t going to survive if I didn’t get help soon. I discerned that if the other entity was a threat, or if it was in worse shape than me – that retreating back into the room behind me was always an option. I mustered up as much strength as I could, but my voice was so weak.

“Come here!” I tried to yell, but it was barely even audible by my own ears. I took a deep breath, realizing that I was already tired from that one utterance.

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“Come here! Now!” I screamed with all my strength and noticed that the scraping of feet against the stone on the ground ceased.

Whatever was out there heard me and was now turning around. I waited at the door frightened in apprehension of what was to occur. I readied myself for any possibility, but I knew that I was clinging to a false hope of survival. The cold sweat that I was producing increased in severity; it hadn’t dawned on me before, but I looked down to see that my clothes had been mostly ripped off and I was very bloodied from my aforementioned struggles. The torches flickered and I was feeling extremely fatigued. I had to stay awake though, I had to see what was coming.

It was hideous. A swirling fleshy mass of ripped-faces and severed limbs was now racing towards me. I clasped the door handle, but I found myself paralyzed with unbelief. It had eyes that glowed in the dark, so that it could see more clearly in the encompassment of blackness that it lived in. It filled the entire volume of the hall and was screeching some indistinguishable roar. A mixture of terrible deafening static was emitting from is gaping mouth and its presence caused the walls of the hall to bleed. The torches were loosing there brightness and I had to react quickly, for my haltering response had lessened the window of time for escape. I wedged myself behind the door and slammed it just as the creature approached in its wild abandon. I could feel the entirety of its terror as the last image of its eyes flashed across my mind. I locked the door and looked behind me.

I was back inside my hotel room, it was no longer inverted and the bed looked unbelievably inviting. It was waiting for me, calling me to rest my eyes. The light underneath the doorway from the torches outside no longer haunted me. I felt safe and at ease as I forgot all my troubles form the night’s crisis. I laid down and thought of how I could erase myself from this realm. Sleep seemed like the only option.

“Maybe when I wake up, this will all be over,” I thought. I slowly closed my eyes to the sound of stone scraping against stone, but my mind wouldn’t let me remain conscious any longer…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

…I woke up and felt quite anxious about the dim light in the room. I always slept in complete darkness, so naturally, the now apparent luminescence proved to be considerably disturbing. I was still groggy from just having woken up and my eyes had to adjust from the haze of dream in order to better asses the situation. After calming down from the initial shock of being woken up, I discovered that the light was coming from outside my hotel-room door.

Credit To – Taylor Lanson

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Copyright Statement: Unless explicitly stated, all stories published on Creepypasta.com are the property of (and under copyright to) their respective authors, and may not be narrated or performed under any circumstance.

28 thoughts on “Et Cetera”

  1. I hate these ones that are on a continuous loop because if in fact this could happen and it happened to me I would freak and of course lose my mind. Which I assume is the point of these stories.

  2. People bitching about authors using a thesaurus are simply accustomed to reading pastas like Eyeless Jack…or any other poorly-written pastas that are way too overrated.

  3. I rather enjoyed the story and I don’t understand the whole “used bigger words so I couldn’t understand it” thing. I see that comment on a lot of intelligently worded pastas, obviously they’ve never read Poe or Lovecraft. Anyways, excellent story, well written and I love the concept. C:

  4. Wow ! I really really enjoyed this story. To the first comment : it really depends on your reading / writing level. Maybe in middle school you don’t use large words but in college you do. But I do agree a little, some of it was a bit too wordy. BUT all in all was amazing. Great work!

  5. Incredibly tasty pasta! Loved the loops and paradoxes of the situation so much I nearly squeeled of joy when he opened the door and started shouting the words he heard before himself.
    Big fat 10/10 from me!

  6. I couldn’t even finish it due to StarGazers observation regarding your choices in vocabulary. I am inclined to agree and ask “Thesaurus much?” Also, proof reading is your friend.

    “Poor Faulkner. Does he really think big emotions come from big words?” – Ernest Hemingway

    1. Just because you can’t comprehend vocabulary passed the 8th grade level doesn’t mean the author of this story used a thesaurus. Maybe if you tried to actually read something out of your comfort zone, you’d get better at it.

      Seriously, if you didn’t read the story – you have no right to comment on it. As it turns out – rhetoric style is an opinion not an objective “right/wrong.” As you can see, other people didn’t have a problem with the writing. I am not saying that you can’t disagree with them (you certainly can and have), but that doesn’t give you the right to be an asshole.

      Finally, before you start quoting Ernest Hemingway, you should probably read a book or two by him. He uses vocabulary far out of the spectrum of this story. The fact that you try to use a quote by him to somehow validate your opinion is baffling to say the least.

      1. I’m in agreement with our anonymous friend ^^^
        Just because she went into extreme detail and used words that are unknown to most people doesn’t set it as a bad piece. I’m new to this site as well, and am just making my way around, though I did appreciate the use of imagery in the way she laid her words on the page. I learned a few words I didn’t know before today.

  7. As Katherine said, the connection was very explicit. Although I wouldn’t say I realized they were the “same” person, it was obvious that the man was in all of those positions. Although I would have liked to seen more of a connection as to why the man appeared as an old man and as a monster.

    The syntax didn’t bother me much. I thought it flowed very well, although like Star said, there was a sentence or two that I had to stare at for a couple seconds to piece it together. But I thought you described things nicely and in an intricate but natural flowing way.

    I thought the ending tied it up well.

  8. I didn’t like it for the reasons stated by everyone else. I however read The Room: Remember so I have that in my head as a referral piece. It could be better, but you said you purposely wrote it that way?? :c

  9. I really enjoyed it! Granted there were a few grammer errors here and there, but nothing that would mess up the story. It was well-written. Good job.

  10. I will allay your concerns and state that I did get the connection between the old man and the man in the hallway pretty readily. I would almost argue that it’s too explicit, which robs it of some of it’s impact. I like circular pastas, I have to admit. Guilty pleasure. They will always have a soft spot in my heart. That said, I do not understand the transformation into a monster. I wish the mechanism for that was more clearly explained (such as dropping hints about hallucinations or some other phenomenon), but as I said, I though you conveyed it very clearly. The prose is overwrought and could be drastically simplified. While big words do have a place in writing, sometimes they just lead to sentences lumbering on rather than flowing smoothly. The stylistic vocabulary choices here seemed to hinder the overall flow of the story for me.

    While I don’t normally comment on this, I really loved the title. It made me smile once I finished reading and saw the title again (I’m bad about not reading the title before jumping into the pasta; in this metaphor, its akin to ordering without reading the menu. Shame on me.)I also liked the way you described the surroundings. As ShapeShafter suggested, more details about the character would make this a lot stronger, as it reads a bit disconnected at the moment. It ends up feeling rushed because there are so few details about the character himself. The story leaves me curious, which is good, but I also wish there had been some sort of suggestion as to what this place was or how he ended up in this endless maze. I have my theories, but there is scant support for those in the narrative itself. I also really liked your attention to detail, such as bringing the stone sounds back. It’s easy to overlook things like that.

    Overall, I had fun reading this. It was a bit predictable, but it kept me interested. I liked the story you put forward, and think reworking some of the syntax would benefit this greatly. Thanks for feeding my guilty pleasure with a circular story! Happy writing!

    1. Thanks for the read!

      I just would like to start off by saying that I completely agree with your criticisms. This is an older piece of mine (not an excuse for the bad writing – as I am still guilty of over-wording things, just an explanation), so it is more jumbled than my later pieces. I am still working on how to make my narratives more concise, hopefully they will get better over time – as I am still very new to this “game.”

      As for the lack of description of the character – this was intentional as I wanted you (the reader) to feel a part of yourself in the protagonist (the same reason why many characters are left voiceless/faceless in movies/video games). I knew this would leave a lot of readers unsatisfied, but I did not want to develop the character too fully and sacrifice the highly symbolic nature of the piece.
      Furthermore, MY (it can be whatever you want it to be) reasoning behind the protagonist’s transformation into the “monster,” is that the protagonist, after rushing towards the old man, re-lights the torches (and thus continues the cycle). Because of this, I wanted to show the protagonist as being a monster to himself – the reason why he is in the hellish nightmare to begin with (he, himself, keeps it going).
      As for the location/general setting of this piece some common answers have been: purgatory, insanity, never-ending dream/nightmare (coma).
      Now, as for the symbolic nature of this – it was mostly a metaphor for life itself. We go through similar struggles constantly and we perceive other people as different when we are all essentially in this “boat” together. The narrator sums up the old man as a decrepit corpse and is immediately disgusted by the looks of the monster without really taking a second to realize what is happening. The narrator, the elderly man, and the monster are all trapped together (mainly because its the same person, but also to prove that you can go through many different phases of your life). One morning, you might find yourself a monster and unable to look at yourself in the mirror. Many years from now, I will awaken to find that I am old – one can only hope that one’s life was worth living – for what terror is greater than an existence left unfulfilled? On another sense, this can be seen as a criticism of ignorance. If the narrator would realize that he continues the cycle himself every “night” he could stop his torment or potentially figure out what is wrong with his existence. This was a subtle reminder that all of us can learn from our mistakes and that we should be open to new ideas as to not repeat unfortunate past grievances.
      I hope that clears a few things up!
      Cheers!

  11. This was very similar to any creepypasta about a woman talking to AIs only discovering herself to be one. It follows about the same structure so it was easy to follow and gave a few chills.

  12. WhatDoesTheFoxSay

    “I was still groggy from just having arisen and my eyes had to adjust from the haze of dream in order to better asses the situation.”
    Now, who can find the problem in this sentence? :3 *Heh, heh*
    Wow, I am so immature sometimes.

  13. The writing for this wasn’t bad, but the ideas needed to be fleshed out more, and the mistakes corrected. First off, you can’t just pick up two rocks and hope to produce sparks. It has to be flint. Why were the paintings on the ceiling in the inverted hotel room? Shouldnt they have been on the walls upside down? And I didn’t get how this man became a decrepid old man so quick. How did he not have much time left? Was he old when this started? Very confusing. And your lacking descriptions of the pain and emotions you felt destroyed any chance for the reader to become immersed, and therefore, I just never cared about your story or where it was predictably going. It never pulled me in, or even interested me in the least. Don’t beoso quick or lazy when doing emotions your protagonist is feeling. Well written, I think you have talent but need to tighten up the screws. 6/10 keep reading and writing

  14. Hey – the author speaking. This is an older piece of mine, so it isn’t very “up to par” in terms of syntax, diction, ect. (yes that was intentional). However – I think a lot of people will miss some important aspects of this pasta (and thus loose what makes it interesting (in my opinion)).

    One of the most “overlooked” aspects of this piece is that the narrator, the “elderly-man,” and the hideous beast are all one and the same entity. When the narrator hears the words “Come here. Come here now,” in the beginning of the story, that is the same utterance that he mouths when he is staring into the second hall towards the (then) unknown entity beyond the lit torches. When the narrator runs towards the “bloodied and almost naked elderly man,” the elderly man sees the narrator as the monster. When the narrator makes it into the upside down hotel-room, he is described as worn out, tired, bloodied and almost naked due to his struggle with the spiky protrusions. In this light, the narrator essentially “becomes” the very old man that he saw before. When the narrator becomes frightened and shuts himself back inside the hotel-room, he sees the face of a hideous monster (just as he witnessed the old man doing in the first cycle). When the narrator enters the hotel room (for the final time) he notices that the torches are not lit on the other side (just as the narrator finds them in the first part of the story, except he is on the other side). Finally, when the narrator falls asleep – he can hear “stone scraping against stone.” This, essentially, is the very same sound of the two rocks the narrator uses to ignite the torches in the last cycle. That is why when the narrator wakes up, the lights are already lit on the outside and the cycle starts again from the beginning.

    1. Thankfully, I got all that in one go-round. I thought the language choices were good and though a little on the purple-prose side, it was a nice break from the “I’m a creepypasta fan and this is my freaky blog entry” stuff that has seemed to take over the vast majority of the genre. There are of course the issues of grammar and spelling randomly throughout, but I’m not here to do a critique.

      I think that a better title possibly would have been “Ad infinitum”; a term I’m sure you’re familiar with meaning “to infinity” or “forevermore” since et cetera means “and more”, though can mean “and so on”.

      Good job. I’ll have to look up your other stuff if you think this wasn’t up to par.

  15. This was hard to read. I almost gave up about halfway through. In general, when writing, using simple language is best. It feels like you took out a thesaurus and used it to change up the language in this piece. It comes across as somewhat pretentious as is, almost as if you were trying too hard. Stuff like this sentence:

    “The walls were void of the doors that had spotted them before my departure into sleep.”

    I honestly don’t know anyone who speaks or thinks like that. Just saying that the doors that were there before you went to sleep were now missing would get your point across with more force. As it stands, you have to sort of stare at the sentence for a second to get the gist of it, which is not something you want the reader to be doing, because if they have to do it enough, eventually they will give up (unless there is something of great substance underneath, and they still might give up even then).

    The twist was decentish, even though I guessed it after the narrator encountered the old man. I do appreciate that when the narrator comes full circle and calls after the retreating figure, it looks like a monster instead of himself, explaining why he closes the door.

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