Imagine slipping out of reality and waking up somewhere that never ends.
Fluorescent lights hum overhead.
The carpet is damp.
The wallpaper stretches endlessly in every direction.
You are alone.
Somewhere, far away, a light flickers—but the hallway never seems to end.
This unsettling image is what first introduced many people to the Backrooms, a strange internet urban legend that exploded across forums and social media in the late 2010s. The concept originated from a single eerie image posted online: a maze of yellow-tinted office rooms with buzzing lights, stained carpet, and no clear exit.
If you accidentally slip out of reality, you might end up there.
For many people, it was just another piece of internet horror. But for me it sparked an idea that would eventually inspire some of my own stories, though I didn’t realize it at the time.
Because the strange truth is… I had been fascinated by places like that long before I ever saw the Backrooms.
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Escaping Into Other Worlds
When I was growing up, home was rarely a safe place. My mother was abusive, and like many children who grow up in difficult environments, I found escape wherever I could. For me, that escape was books.
Stories became doorways into other worlds where I could imagine myself as the hero—or heroine—who fought monsters, protected the vulnerable, and stood up for the downtrodden. In those worlds, I had agency. I had control.
But there were also quieter daydreams.
Sometimes I imagined slipping away somewhere else entirely. Not into epic fantasy battles or grand adventures, but into quiet, empty places where no one else existed.
Endless malls.
Silent playgrounds.
Long hallways stretching forever.
Places where I could wander freely without fear, without conflict, without anyone around to hurt me. I would imagine this as I waited for my mother to pick me up long after school had ended. I would wander the hallways and play on the school playgrounds.
Just space. Silence. Freedom.
Looking back, those childhood daydreams feel eerily similar to the liminal spaces people talk about today.
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Why Liminal Spaces Feel So Unsettling
A liminal space is a place that exists between two states of being. The word “liminal” comes from the Latin limen, meaning threshold.
Normally, these places are full of life and movement. But when they’re empty, something feels wrong—almost like the world paused, or we accidentally stepped somewhere we shouldn’t be.
That strange mix of familiarity and unease is exactly what makes liminal spaces so powerful in horror. They’re places we recognize.
Once you start noticing liminal spaces, they appear everywhere. These environments are designed for movement and transition, which makes them feel alien.
Some of the most recognizable liminal spaces include:
- Empty shopping malls after closing
- School hallways at night
- Playgrounds with no children
- Airport terminals with no passengers
- Endless hotel corridors
- Abandoned office buildings
- 24-hour laundromats at 3 a.m.
- Underground parking garages
- Train stations late at night
That strange tension between familiarity and emptiness is what makes liminal spaces so powerful in horror storytelling.
The Dark Irony Behind My Stories
There’s another layer to all of this that makes my fascination with these places ironic.
I have cleithrophobia, which is the fear of being trapped in a place with no escape. It’s often confused with claustrophobia, but they aren’t the same thing. Tight spaces don’t really bother me. What does is the thought that I could be somewhere—anywhere, large or small—and never be able to leave.
The size of the space doesn’t matter. What matters is the possibility that there is no exit. Once you start thinking about it that way, the Backrooms become much more than just an internet horror story.
They become a nightmare.
Writing Fear Into Fiction
When you start looking at the themes in my writing, you’ll probably notice this pattern: Places that feel familiar—but wrong; a hopeless situation the character faces alone. In many ways, writing about these environments allows me to turn my deepest fears into reality. The same ideas that once existed in my imagination as both escape and terror now become something I can explore through storytelling. Think of it as a type of catharsis and a way to conquer my fears.
Maybe that’s why horror resonates so strongly with people.
Sometimes the things that scare us the most are also the things we feel compelled to understand.
And sometimes the most unsettling places aren’t haunted houses or monster-filled forests.
Sometimes they’re just the quiet, empty rooms.
If You Love Liminal Horror
The sense that you’ve stepped somewhere you shouldn’t have—you’ll understand why it inspired my novella, Welcome Station. It explores an urban legend gone wrong: a playground that shouldn’t exist.
Most people never find it.
But some do.
And if you ever see the Shadow Man standing just outside of the edge of the playground…
Don’t blink.
Don’t think.
Or you will disappear forever.
If you enjoy stories about liminal spaces, cryptids, and strange worlds hiding just beyond the edge of reality, you can explore Welcome Station here:
Just remember:
Some stations aren’t meant to be found.
