Longtime readers of this newsletter are familiar with my love of urban legends, mythology, and folklore. I can’t get enough of these types of stories. Folklore shines a light on how a civilization thinks and what it believes. Those stories encapsulate their hopes, fears, dreams, and nightmares while offering answers to common questions.
One modern urban legend that fascinates me is the Back Rooms. This is a place people inadvertently find that consists of endless empty bland rooms. No furniture or decor exist in these rooms. Being in the back rooms is said to be disorienting and disconcerting because of the emptiness. Stories related to the back rooms caution that a person can become lost and fall prey to hidden evil entities lurking in these places.
The back rooms — and a primal fear of becoming lost, never to be found again — inspired my latest poem.
Stuck inside a maze. Searching for days. Seeking an exit. Planning an escape from the back rooms. Bare walls and floors. Counted sealed doors. Blending together. No beginning, no end inside the back rooms. I'm starting to fear. What I'll see or hear. Sinister agents. Terrifying monsters. Inside the back rooms. Ignored the warning. Now I am mourning. My mind shatters. A soul forever trapped. Beyond the back rooms.
If you enjoyed this poem, be sure to check out other poetry from past newsletters.
Beware the backrooms!
I have goosebumps.