This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.
The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/Incogneto_mode01 on 2024-11-30 01:45:25+00:00.
A few months ago I noticed something in my bathroom. In the corner, next to the vent. Large clumps of my hair trailing into the ducts. And when I say large clumps of hair I mean heads of hair. All I can assume is that it’s an accumulation of years of hair brushing, cutting, and all other manner of hairdressing. And that's all there was to the story for a long time. For weeks I stared into the vent more hair accumulating day by day. Something about it felt like an achievement, like something that I’ve been secretly working on under even my own nose. I felt like I needed to add more.
It wasn’t that bad at first. Every once in a while I’d brush my hair into the corner. Or put some hair in the vent from the sink. It’s not like I felt the need to add to the corner any time I brushed my hair. I just thought of it like a hobby. If I remembered the hair was there, I’d take five minutes to add to it. I sort of took pride in it. It was a constant in my apartment, pretty much the only one I’ve had in a while. It was good for me. Like a Zen garden. I felt relieved every time I added to the collection.
It was around the holiday season when I first noticed the hair moving. It wasn't much at first. A tiny tug once or twice a week. But soon enough, it became more than that. I sat in the bathroom and watched strands of hair get slowly dragged into the darkness of the vent. I was equally intrigued as I was devastated. On one hand I had no idea what was going on, but on the other I knew exactly what was going on. Something was taking my collection. Piece by Piece day by day. I felt furious, filled with rage. I slammed by fist into the drywall. I pulled my fist out of the neatly round hole and sighed. I would have to pay for that. But I was still mad, mad at whatever was stealing my hair. And I intended to do something about it.
It must have been the first time I had ventured out of the apartment in a week. I didn’t know exactly who ran this building but I intended to find them. It took me a while to find the maintenance closet, and the man who was sitting in there. A man named Diego. An older Hispanic man who worked here longer than I’d been alive. I asked him if he had a map of the vents or anything like that. He shook his head and sighed. I thanked him for his time and stomped back to the apartment. Even if I didn’t get anything from it, It still felt good to leave my apartment. Staying anywhere too long could get to you.
It felt like being in the apartment too long had been getting to me. I started spending more time brushing my hair, Tangling it, and brushing it again. I sometimes spent hours in the bathroom just sitting there, pulling hair. I had to keep adding to the pile. To make up for the lost strands. To keep adding to my collection. This went on for a month. I didn’t leave my apartment much. Too many weird looks. Too many people staring at my scalp. I spent almost all my time in the bathroom. I brought food, water and even a sleeping bag. As I spent more time in the bathroom, my hearing became more acute. I could swear I heard muttering from just behind the door clicking from right behind me, or scratching from deep inside the vent. I didn’t know what was happening. By the time I left the bathroom I heard almost constant whispering coming from somewhere inside the walls.
I decided to find out what was in my wall. What was stealing my hair. I barely fit into the small metal duct connecting my bathroom to the rest of the ventilation system in the building. By the time I was most of the way into the vent, I had my hands next to my head. I could barely see two feet in front of me even with the flashlight wedged between my teeth. Despite my lack of sight I knew where to go, what turns to take. I can feel the hair. Hundreds of strands of hair leading down the long metal shaft. After what felt like hours I finally heard something. A wheezing coming from down the vent. I scrambled down the seemingly infinite shaft trying to find what was making the sound. Before long I had run into something.
A large clump of hair, almost solid. I shined my light into the wall of hair, but I couldn’t see anything through the thick tangle of hair. I would have given up after that, I couldn’t move let alone get through that. That is until I felt something brush against my leg. As soon as it happened a jolt of energy came over my body and I rushed into the hair. Ripping through the wall and slipping into a shaft leading down. As soon as I hit the ground I feel something different about this tunnel. A warm wind blows in my face and I look up. What was once cold steel ducts turned into hard concrete. I click on the flashlight and shine it around. I wouldn’t have known I was in the basement if I hadn’t seen the ceiling. I get up and look at the walls, covered in tangles and strands of my hair big enough to cover the whole room. I felt a dripping on my arm. Something cold and sticky had started to cover my shoulder. I shined around the flashlight frantically and froze as I saw it. What I saw that day in the basement is barely describable. But what I can tell you is it stared deep into my soul. I felt something inside me change. Realize how insane it all was. It stared at me, thoughts and feelings that were not mine fill my body. I dropped my flashlight and fell to the floor. The darkness engulfed me and all I could do was cry.
At least, that was what I remember. All this was a month ago. Before I was taken to the hospital. My family had found me in the bathroom a few days after I passed out. The doctors told me that I had lost too much blood. That when my father came through the door, he found me with the skin off my head in my hands, slouched over. I don’t know what to believe anymore. I know what the doctors said has to be true. But still, I hear whispering in the back of my mind sometimes. Asking me for more.