We wanted to do something special for Lindsay’s birthday. She’d turned 30 just as the Covid lockdown came into effect, so we missed a big one. So when the stars finally aligned and our calendars synced up, we decided we were gonna get her something special. A girls’ night out, for the first time in years.
Lindsay always had a bit of a dark streak. Her birthday is just one week before Halloween, so by then everything is pumpkin flavored and covered in plastic spider webs. Spooky things were just part of her aesthetic, and even as a mother of two we’d still see her sporting a skull necklace or pentagram earrings every now and then.
But we were running out of time. We couldn’t decide what to do. Some of us could set aside the whole weekend, others had to work or be home by midnight. It was getting difficult to settle on a single thing that would fit everyone.
That is, until Aggie found something that was just perfect.
An escape room.
We all met up on a Saturday. It was me, Dawn, Aggie, and Lindsay. After a fancy dinner and a long walk, we arrived at the Apostle Collective building. They’d opened about a year ago, and they’d been booked solid all spring long. That we managed to book a room this close to Halloween was nothing short of a miracle. Some of you have probably heard about them, they’re sort of a chain. They got like five locations, most of them in Minnesota.
The place was spot on. It didn’t just have the classic Halloween stuff, but smoke machines, hidden speakers, projectors… the whole kit. The staff were dressed up in prosthetics, looking like old-time zombie carnival workers. We stepped in, they checked our booking, and gave us a little box of free popcorn. Lindsay was ecstatic. We’d told the staff it was all for her birthday, so they paid a little extra attention to her. She deserved it.
As we stepped up to the door, they gave us an introduction.
“You’re stepping into the Box of the Godless Grinning Witch,” we were told. “This is our longest, scariest room yet. Pretty much brand new, apart from playtesters. You were lucky to get a booking, the other group cancelled last minute! Either way, all you need to solve it can be found in there, just try not to break any furniture or move something that’s been bolted down. None of the clues will require a lot of force, so you wouldn’t have to break anything, or exert yourself.”
“Are there actors?” Dawn asked. “You can tell us, right?”
“I can, but I won’t. But whatever happens, you won’t be harmed. Something might reach for you, chase you, touch you, but no harm. So please try to keep that in mind.”
“Can, uh… are you leaving the door open?” Aggie asked. “Can we leave at any time?”
“Just knock, or send us a text. The door locks automatically, but we can open it remotely with the click of a button. Just knock.”
“So what’s the story, what’s our deal?” interrupted Lindsay. “Ghouls? Ghosts? Vampires?”
I was so happy to see Lindsay like that. She could barely stand still.
The Box of the Godless Grinning Witch is about a cruel witch who have trapped four souls in a little box. As they scramble to get out, they start realizing they’re not alone. The souls have to find a way out while avoiding the monstrous beings trapped in there with them. There were no more hints, and part of the experience was going into it knowing just two things; we had been captured, and we weren’t alone.
Aggie kept her phone so she could text for hints and reach the staff if necessary. The rest of us put ours away. This was gonna be an intense game, with a solve time average of about four hours. That said, we were allowed to stay until midnight. And if we solved it without a hint, we got a very special prize. We could also send them a text to pause the game for a bathroom break.
We put away our coats, Dawn did a little stretch, and Lindsay was visibly shaking with excitement. This was gonna be good.
I was the last one to step inside. Just as the door closed behind us, I noticed the staff member suddenly look off to the side. Their brow furrowed as they stepped back.
In the blink of an eye, they were gone.
Then the door slammed shut.
There was something off, but I didn’t want to alarm anyone. They were so excited, and the game was just getting started.
It was a black, windowless room. Lindsay was being chatty, but Dawn and Aggie were kind of wondering what the hell they’d agreed to. After a few seconds, there was this chilling laugh, followed by a light.
They’d installed a video projector in the ceiling. The entire room lit up, as we looked up to see a video of an impossibly large woman looking down on us, like we were the size of a rubik’s cube in her hand. She had these sunken, joyless eyes, and a wide grin that stretched ear to ear. Clearly CGI. Far above her, we could see the full moon. As an effect, it was pretty impressive.
“I think she’s based on a local legend,” said Aggie. “Some kind of pilgrim myth. I’ve heard about this.”
As the Grinning Witch put her hand over us, the room went dark once again, and electric torches flared up along the walls. The game was on.
There were all kinds of items all around. Paintings, carpets, chests, tables with strange runes… classic escape room stuff. We all split up and started looking through whatever we could first get our hands on. Aggie found some sort of pamphlet and started calling out names. Dawn found a set of numbers under a chair. Lindsay was just soaking up the atmosphere, trying to find clues in the paintings.
About thirty minutes in, there was this awful sound. A rattling cage, followed by snapping metal. There was a loud moan, and approaching footsteps. There were a few spots in the room that were obvious hiding places, so we hurried inside. Lindsay couldn’t stop giggling, and even I felt my pulse racing a bit.
But nothing happened. The pre-recorded noises came and went. There was this disconnect, like a pair of real footsteps were supposed to sort of “take over” the sound, but nothing happened. We just hid for a couple of minutes, then stepped out.
“Did we miss something?” Dawn asked.
There was a pregnant pause as we looked around the room. Nothing. Strange.
We made decent progress. We found a set of keys that opened a chest, which revealed a blacklight disguised as a candle. Using it, we found a set of codes to decipher using a set of runes. We found out there was a touchpad behind a painting, which we could use to write a code, that in turn opened a small side-room full of clues. So yeah, decent progress.
Then again, we heard strange noises. Rattling chains, loud moans, and thundering footsteps. We figured this was it, that the previous one had just been a warning. So again we rushed to our hiding spaces.
And again, nothing happened.
This time, something was clearly broken. There was a recorded voice coming from the ceiling.
“I think he likes you…” it whispered.
“Like hell he does,” Aggie frowned. “He’s not coming out!”
“Relatable,” grinned Dawn. “I’m using the bathroom. Text ‘em.”
Aggie texted the staff as Dawn pulled on the door.
It was still locked.
“Wait,” Aggie said. “They haven’t responded yet.”
Dawn knocked on the door. There was no response. No sound.
“Still nothing,” added Aggie. “No one.”
Something turned in my stomach. That sudden pinch of worry that something had gone terribly wrong. As Dawn kept pulling on the door, Lindsay stopped smiling. The pep in her step faded.
“Is this part of it?” Lindsay asked. “Is it a meta thing? Are you in on it?”
“No!” I protested. “It’s j-just one of those auto-locking doors, and they forgot to set it open. Right? It’s probably nothing, right?”
“No response,” sighed Aggie, holding her phone up. “I’m calling Hank.”
As the others gathered around Aggie, I stepped away for a second. Aggie’s husband, Hank, wasn’t picking up. I put my ear up against the walls and listened, figuring I might be able to hear the staff chit-chatting in the next room over. There were supposed to be actors here, or staff just outside. Something about this wasn’t adding up.
As I leaned against the wall, listening, I heard footsteps again.
But this time, they didn’t sound pre-recorded.
I hurried to the others, holding a finger up to my lips. “Listen” I mouthed. There was a slit in the wall where a door could open from the other side. Someone was coming this way.
“Is that them?” Dawn asked. “Is that-“
Those were big steps. Really big, heavy steps. Without knowing who was coming, we all just silently agreed that this whole thing felt completely off. No one knew what to do.
“Hide!” Dawn hissed.
There were plenty of things to hide behind, but the room was small. They’d find us in no-time. Despite that, Lindsay and I hid in the small side-room. We shut the door, held our breaths, and waited. Dawn was small enough to fit in a chest, while Aggie hid behind a curtain in the back of the room. In the low light, it might just work.
As the doors slid open, I could hear heavy breathing. Big, dragging feet, and a weird wet snorting noise. A clear scratching sound as something sharp was pulled across the floor.
“Please pick the small one first, Byron” a hoarse voice wheezed. “Go on, pick it!”
A pig-like screech echoed through the room in response. This wasn’t a recording, this was coming from whoever was in the room. There really was something there. Something big.
I heard the sudden sound of tearing fabric and a scream. This awful, drawn-out death scream. A shrieking, pleading terror, as someone was physically dragged out of the room. I’d never heard anything like it, and it was impossible to tell who it was.
Then, with a thud, it all went silent. The door was closed.
Lindsay and I peeked out. The curtain that Aggie had hid behind had been torn down.
She was gone.
There was blood.
We found Dawn curled up in a chest, shivering. She couldn’t make eye contact. When we tried to snap her out of it, she just screamed and clawed at us. Her eyes were wild, and she was barely breathing.
“Did you see anything?” Lindsay whispered. “W-what… what was it?”
Dawn just shook her head. I could see there was a crack in the wooden chest, she might’ve been able to see something. We just weren’t getting through to her.
“I’m not… not waiting for that to come back,” Lindsay said. “Help me get the lights.”
“W-what?” I shivered.
“The lights! It can’t find us in the dark!”
We went torch by torch and shut it all down. The room went completely dark, and we gathered by Dawn’s hiding spot. We crouched next to her, trying to calm down.
“It’s part of it, right?” whispered Dawn. “Is Aggie in on it? Are… are you just fucking with me?”
“No, something’s… something’s wrong!” I whispered back. “I’m sorry, Dawn, it’s… there’s-“
“Bullshit!” wheezed Lindsay. “This is fucking bullshit, and… and I’m not… who’s got the phone?”
We all went quiet.
Aggie was the one with the phone.
“There has to be fucking… something!” said Lindsay. “Feel around.”
“For what?!” I wheezed. “Where?!”
“I-I don’t know! How the fuck should I know?! J-just… just try! Do something!”
I stepped up to the door. Still locked, and no one outside. I started feeling around, only to find two cables. They might just be a light or something, but there was another possibility.
“L-look, maybe… the door is locked until we text them or time is up. What if the door unlocks? Like, what if it unlocks when we solve it?”
“It won’t work,” sighed Lindsay. “There are some things in here that require a staff member to manually click something open with a button. Some clues just won’t work without it. But I don’t think there’s anyone out there anymore.”
“What about… fire escapes? Y-you can’t just… just lock people in a room!”
I could hear Lindsay sink down to the floor.
“This is a mistake,” she cried. “A-all of it.”
The side door slammed open again.
Big, heaving footsteps came in. Even in the complete dark, we could tell there was someone huge in here with us. Someone who smelled like dirt. Again, something sharp scraped across the floor.
“Byron, get another one!” a voice laughed. “Whichever you like!”
I just pushed myself up against the wall and turned my head on the side. I tried making myself as flat as possible. I knew Lindsay was doing the same. Dawn, on the other hand, was panicking.
“No-!” she coughed. “Nonononono!”
A loud pig-like snort. The scraping thing was lifted off the ground. I heard two feet firmly planting in the ground as something heavy was lifted, and Dawn fell to the ground with a thud. She tried to talk, but she’d had all wind knocked out of her. Instead, she just tried to get away.
I heard a loud exhale. The kind of sound where someone gets something heavy dropped on them. And in the seconds that followed, I heard this large being, “Byron”, violently drag Dawn out of the room. To the untrained ear, her scream was almost the same as Aggie’s.
As the door slammed shut again, I could hear Lindsay sobbing just a few feet away. I couldn’t move. My body was stopping me from comforting her, and I’d been so tense my neck was stiff from pushing my face against the wall. For what felt like hours, we just waited. It was probably just minutes.
Finally, Lindsay got up. She fumbled her way over to one of the tables, flipped it on its’ side, and broke a leg off. Then she did it again and handed the second leg to me.
“Don’t just… just let them, you know?” she said. “Okay?”
“Y-yeah,” I nodded. “Yeah, n-no I… I won’t.”
I started to hyperventilate as my fingers wrapped around the slippery wood. There was no way I could use this. My hands were so sweaty the thing was falling out of my grip. I couldn’t fight, not with that. Not against whatever was taking us out one by one.
“Maybe… Maybe barricade the door?” she said. “Yeah. Let’s-“
“Wait!”
It was a good idea, but it was too dark. That, and I could hear the footsteps coming again. Faster this time. Determined.
The thing entered on its’ own. No guiding voice. Lindsay and I held hands and pushed ourselves up against the wall. I couldn’t hear it dragging anything this time, but I could hear lips smacking, followed by these high-pitched micro-grunts. Whatever it was, it was loud, and it was munching on something.
It wandered around for a while, feeling around the table, the chest, and even the little side-room. After a few minutes it seemed satisfied not to have found us and headed back to the door.
Just as it was about to exit, we hit the 90-minute mark. The game, partly automated, was still running. The projector came on again, displaying this large woman in the ceiling.
The entire room was lit up.
It immediately saw us.
The thing was easily 6’8. It was dressed in this sort of torn varsity jacket, with filthy mud-covered jeans. There were long strands of black fur poking out of every cut and tear in its’ clothes, making it look like a badly stuffed scarecrow.
It wasn’t fully human.
His head looked like a boar. It looked right at us, its’ snout twitching with excitement. He had these small, dark eyes. I’ll never forget how, when it looked at me, they lit up with nothing but joy. No matter the species, you can just tell. It was looking forward to this. There was no fear, no malice, just… unbridled, violent, joy. Like a kid tearing into a happy meal.
Meeting my eyes, the thing just screamed like a wounded pig, and charged.
I stepped on my own feet and stumbled backwards. Hadn’t it been for Lindsay still holding my hand I would’ve gone down like a sack of flour. Instead, I barely stayed on my feet, as we rushed to the other side of the room.
“Still down there, playthings?” the recording in the ceiling spoke. “Will you not give up?”
As the video played above us, the light in the room shifted. Whenever she was more in frame, the light grew more distant. When she moved back, the full moon came into view.
“He’ll get you, playthings,” the narration continued. “It is so, so futile.”
There was blood on his jacket. Fresh blood.
As the video finished, we’d ran a full lap of the room. We were back at the door, and this time he was charging straight ahead. At the last second, Lindsay let go of my hand, and we fell to the side. The boar-man ran straight into the door. It seemed to upset him, as he focused all his rage on it. Pounding, tearing, biting. All the while roaring like a wounded animal. His joy was gone. This was frustration. Hunger.
It didn’t take him long to break the door open, and as light flooded in, he turned to look down the hall. The brightness from the street outside seemed to scare him, as he took off out the back.
Lindsay and I stayed on the floor a couple of seconds, just to insure ourselves that the thing was gone. We eventually crawled out the door, ready to run.
There were bloodied handprints on the walls. Something resembling a fingernail. Blood spatter on the ceiling. We ignored it all, got up, and went straight for the exit.
“Come on, come on, come on…”
I’d sprained my ankle, and Lindsay was bleeding from her hand.
We were about 40 feet from the door when we heard that voice again. The voice that’d guided the boar-man. Neither of us turned to see him. We just had to keep going.
“Tell them!” he screamed. “Tell them there will be no carnival games in the name of her ladyship! Tell them to fear! Tell them all! Tell them to fear the Grinning Witch!”
He laughed so hard he couldn’t breathe. Lindsay pulled me along when all I wanted was to collapse and cry.
We burst through the doors and into the night. And far behind us, the laughter faded.
Putting it all in writing feels a bit weird, like I’m telling someone else’s story. But Lindsay is as real as the last time I met her, and I don’t think we’ll ever overcome the trauma. I still feel myself stopping at random times, listening for footsteps. Lindsay has developed a sort of claustrophobia. No more locked doors, ever.
The police chalked it all up as an armed robbery. The security cameras picked up four intruders getting in through the back door. Three hooded figures, and a large “masked man” in a varsity jacket. The case was handed off to a special unit, and promptly dropped. We didn’t get any updates after that.
It wasn’t filed as a kidnapping, or murder, or similar. All they could prove was the break-in, but as far as what happened to Dawn, Aggie, and the staff members? No one knows. There was no car speeding off into the night. There were no witnesses. They seemingly vanished into thin air.
It is true that the Grinning Witch was a bit of a local legend. A witch that collected cursed animals, and people, and put them all in a box. The escape room barely had anything to do with it though, it was just loosely based on that idea. But somehow that was enough to draw out some kind of hate sect.
But I’ll never forget the man with the boar head. No matter how I think about it, no matter how I try to wrap my head around it, I can’t stop thinking about him. That was no man in a mask. That snout was wet, and those teeth were real. Nutjobs are everywhere, but that thing? No. No, it couldn’t be. It literally couldn’t be.
I don’t think this will ever be resolved. Why would it be? Things like this don’t just happen. They don’t.
But this time, they did.