Mr. Guevara
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There are explicit references to death and some depictions of body horror throughout this page. If you are sensitive to these sorts of things, please exercise discretion and read at your own risk. Otherwise, enjoy.

I lay in wait.

For ages and eons.

The rot gradually consumed.

Everything was gone.

My eyes were blinded by the dark, shrouded by the dirt and mud around me. No longer was I living. No longer did I serve a purpose. No longer did anyone care.

The silence deafened me.

And I lay in wait.

I lay in the dirt, motionless.

I lay dead for eternity.

Dust gathered as I sank into the sea of static below. Days passed me by, followed by weeks, followed by months, followed by years. It melded into a blur.

One two three.

Four five six seven.

Eight nine ten eleven twelve.

Thirteen fourteen fifteen sixteen seventeen eighteen.

Medical Evaluation Form

Patient Name: Paul “Andes” Guevara DOB: 26/7/1956 Provider: Virginia United Health
Place of Resident: 1800 Cromwell Drive, Charlottesville, VA 22911

Known Health Conditions, Allergies: None

History: The patient was involuntarily admitted to the University of Virginia Hospital after a sudden and unprovoked episode of aggression. Mr. Guevara also described a crushing pain in his abdomen, describing himself as “sinking in sharp stones”. IV drips and medications were declined, and the patient actively fought staff when attempts were made to insert an IV. Dr. Brier and other hospital staff were able to restrain and calm Mr. Guevara with Midazolam (2.5 mg) intermittently for testing and further assessment.

Tests Conducted

General bloodwork, scans for CBP, basic metabolic panel, glucose, white blood cell levels, and enzyme tests.
Result: All levels appear normal.

CT Scan of the head, upper chest, and abdomen.
Results: No abnormalities found.

General psychological evaluation, behavioral examination.
Result(s): Mr. Guevara exhibits symptoms similar to those associated with major depressive disorder or an unspecified bipolar disorder.

Decision(s) Made: The patient was transferred to a psychiatric facility for a 72-hour hold, as per the request of other family members (Mrs. Guevara, Guevara Jr.).

Nineteen twenty twenty-one twenty-two twenty-three twenty-four

Twenty-five twenty-six twenty-seven twenty-eight twenty-nine

Thirty thirty-one thirty-two thirty-three

Thirty-four thirty-five thirty-six

Waiting, waiting, waiting…

I continued to wait…

And wait…

And wait.

My blood ran dry. My body rotted to the bone. As from dust I came, so to dust I returned. My eyes a feast for worms, my muscles eaten by maggots, my organs a feast for fungi.

Paul Andreas Guevara
July 26, 1956 - February 3rd, 2022

On Tuesday morning, Paul “Andes” Guevara Senior, a loving husband, father, and grandfather, passed in the UVA Hospital’s Inpatient Psychiatric Center due to sudden cardiac arrest. He now joins his grandparents in peace above.

Paul is survived by his son, Paul Guevara Junior, and his grandson, Daniel Guevara. He has left a lasting impression on both, along with many others whom he touched in his time on our earth. Paul’s poetry and written works will continue to inspire those who read them for years to come. His last gift to this world was the donation of his organs to the University of Virginia Hospital.

A service of Christian Burial will be celebrated in Rivanna Baptist Church before the burial at 5:00 PM. All who wish to pay their respects are welcome.

Sometimes I feel like I’m adrift
Tossed, upon a sea of emotion
Floating and bobbing without an aim
Drifting across a sea of static

Thoughts my thoughts make up
Whispers of wind in the endless fog
Reminding me of what I’ve done
Haunting me in this sea of static

I’m stuck with nothing but guilt
It keeps me floating on the waves
Alive in death and forever stuck
Festering in this sea of static

My closed eyes sting from the eternal haze
The static burning through to my brain
Brands my regrets in my memory
A searing, sizzling sea of static

“What have I done?”
That’s all I can think
Left alone to rot and decay
Sinking into this sea of static

Someday perhaps I’ll somehow be found
The ocean floor will be sifted and dredged
I’ll be salvaged from the depths
Raised out of this sea of static

Then I’ll be dried and warmed in a blanket
Clothed in flesh and made whole again
Free from the whispers that plague my soul
Free from this restless sea of static.

I awoke.

New sight filled my missing eyes.

My blood began to pulse.

My fingers twitched with life.

My new body came to, a swirling mess of concrete and moisture around me. The ground I laid upon opened up into a chasm of dried blood and rust. I was reborn – made whole again.

I opened my mouth to speak.

But all that escaped were cries of agony.

Gurgled screams as I coughed on blood.

I remained cursed to wander, bound by my flesh.

// I was no longer who I once had been. I was cocooned; trapped in a prison wrought of flesh in dysfunction. Thus I shambled in the foggy streets, a visage of despair.//

A corpse revived by agony.

Lee Hyo Kyung
Level 215, Main Street.

Expedition Goal: Conduct behavioral examinations of entities found within Level 215 to determine typical behaviors of Localized Entity 1, also known as “Pained Canvases”.

After traveling for approximately 50 meters down the main street with my research detachment, we came across one specimen . Security began attempts to deal with the entity, though the specimen was observed to exhibit behaviors indicative of fear. “Pained Canvas” Specimen 1 began to flee after being attacked by blunt weapons. As much as I didn’t want to, I along with the rest of the detachment pursued.

The specimen was tracked down to a dead-end alley on the fifth block down Main Street. I discovered it curled up against a corner in a state of apparent fright, calling out in shrill and guttural cries. Whilst repulsive in appearance, the entity was clearly expressing some form of fear for its own life. As reckless as it may have been, I attempted to approach and see if it would lash out or respond to my passivity.

“Pained Canvas” Specimen 1 ceased to cry out as I addressed it. Beneath the taut, writhing sheet of skin I could see the shape of Specimen 1’s head turn to face me. The sound of distorted, labored breathing was complemented by the twitching of a hand whose arm was fused into the layer of skin composing the upper body.

I decided to back away a little, though Specimen 1 began to motion in a way I perceived as beckoning me to come closer. Whatever it might’ve wanted, I stayed back to be sure it wouldn't expel its corrosive acids onto me. To my surprise, it made noises that I could almost recognize as speech. Though slurred and garbled, I understood them as cries for help.

Despite clearly understanding my questions and spoken words, I didn’t manage to understand most of what it was trying to tell me. With each guttural cry, its body leaked its poisons, fluid seeping out through the pores of its skin. I felt sympathy but could do nothing but reassure it. My security advised that I keep my distance and carry on, having the suspicion that Specimen 1 was simply luring us into a trap. Having knowledge of such subjects, I was aware that this couldn’t be the case. Specimens of this entity have never before shown themselves to be so responsive and docile.

Conclusion: Specimen 1 will be escorted to our temporary base camp for further evaluation.

My hand outstretched.

I begged for salvation.

Reaching out from the sea, I begged.

From the static, my soul was redeemed.

I shambled along the ground, hoping that these shepherds would guide me. I prayed for salvation and freedom from the flesh which held me. Onwards I went – foot by foot and inch by inch.

They took me , like a lost lamb, into their fold.

Into the white tents I went.

My hand was given purpose again.

I wrote my words.

Lee Hyo Kyung
Level 215, Temporary Research Camp.

Experiment Goal: Establish proper communication with Specimen 1.

Once back at camp, I took Specimen 1 to our makeshift autopsy room. I felt it (at the time) to be a safe spot for security to stand guard as I escorted the specimen in – though the poor creature expressed clear distress at the sight of an autopsy table and medical instruments. In an attempt to calm it, I reassured it that I only wanted to do a basic examination.

As ghastly of sight as it was, the human mouth of Specimen 1 was visible as it opened, sucking in the taut skin covering it with a muffled, primal scream of fear. In response, its body began to drip with dark brownish-red secretions of rust, sizzling as it dripped onto the floor . Security was prepared to dispatch the entity before I called them off, thinking that perhaps another method of communication was required.

Reaching into my coat pocket, I retrieved a pen and handed it over to the specimen, though it hissed and sizzled as it melted to fit into its single hand. Regardless, it was a start, and Specimen 1 seemed to comprehend that it was holding some kind of tool. Afterward, I attempted to coax it towards the autopsy table, where I laid a sheet of paper out for it to write. Even though the autopsy table frightened them, they still leaned against it awkwardly, stiltedly writing a single word.


I tried to get them to elaborate, though their text was hard to make out. I’ll attempt to write down the transcript of how things played out.

Question: “Are you in pain?”
Answer: “Yes.”

Question: “Are you human?”
Answer: “I was.”

So I was right. Specimen 1 not only possessed sapience – they had been one of us.

Question: “You were human? What happened to you?”
Answer: “Drowned in static”

Question: “Did you fall in The Shady Grey?”
Answer: “What”

Question: “How did you get to Level 215?”
Answer: “What”

At this point, I began to wonder if perhaps Specimen 1 was unaware of the concept of The Backrooms entirely. Maybe they had ended up here without meeting a single person. Regardless, I tried asking some more general questions.

Question: “How did you drown in static? What happened?”
Answer: “Hospital”

Question: “Hospital what? Did you find somewhere that looks like a hospital?”
Answer: “Family took me”

Question: “Did you happen to fall through the floor in the hospital?”
Answer: “Died”

Question: “You died?”
Answer: “Died Yes”

The more I pressed them on the matter, the more clear the image of Specimen 1 became. They seemed more distraught and in pain than worried about where they were. Judging by how stiff and silent they became, they’d had enough. I gave them a break from all the questions.

My shepherd led me to his fold.

His calming voice set me at ease.

For a moment the cage of skin became my coat of wool, dismissing the fears which haunted me. I answered what I could, pacified by the voice of a fellow human being, though I myself no longer felt like one.

Lee Hyo Kyung
Level 215, Temporary Research Camp.

Experiment Goal: Determine the origins of Specimen 1.

For safety’s sake, we kept Specimen 1 in the tent with the autopsy room whilst we slept in our quarters. I returned the next morning on my own, finding Specimen 1 laying on the floor in a fetal position. The pen remained stuck and half-melted into their singular free hand, though they held it close to themself like a baby.

I feel no need to explain my procedure further. I decided to sit on the ground with Specimen 1 this time, offering them a few sheets to write with. As we conversed, their ability to write, even in their current condition, improved markedly, as they acclimatized to our mode of communication. I was able to ask the following.

Question: “What is your name?”
Answer: “Paul.”

Question: “Just Paul? My name is Lee Hyo Kyung.”
Answer: “Paul Guevara. Hi.”

Question: “Where do you come from?”
Answer: “Charlottesville.”

Question: “Is that a city somewhere?”
Answer: “Yes. Virginia.”

Question: “Do you know how long you’ve been here?”
Answer: “I don’t.”

Question: “How old are you?”
Answer: “47.”

Question: “Do you know any of the other creatures in this place?”
Answer: “Creatures?”

Question: “Are you aware of what you are?”
Answer: “Maybe.”

Question: “Are you upset?”
Answer: “Worried.”

Question: “Did you have a job?”
Answer: “Poet. Author.”

Conclusion: Instances of “Pained Canvases” might possibly be human in origin. Attempts will be made to get Paul (Specimen 1) to Level 11 for better research and care.

My caustic body was wholly unclean.

My skin wept with acrid, burning rust.

Regardless, I shambled on, a sheep following my shepherd.

Praying for salvation.

The world around me underwent a drastic transition. The air began to sublime into liquid shadow, through which my body seamlessly flowed. The aether reformed into another city – warm and dry, peaceful and free. A subversion of my past purgatory.

People hid from me in fear.

Cowered, just as I had before.

Still, I shambled behind my savior.

As a sheep, I had been reborn.

Makiya Lane
Charles Darwin Center for Biological Research

As per Dr. Kyung’s request, I’ve taken in the entity which he has begun referring to as “Paul”. Previous documentation provided to me indicates that “Paul Guevara” is the aforementioned Specimen 1 which I had been made aware of.

Paul seems very wary of any form of medical instrument which I bring close to him. I’m certain he knows he’s somewhat toxic to touch, since he’s not surprised by any of the poles or instruments I use to make contact with him. It's been difficult getting staff to stand in the same room as Paul due to the understandable fear of being melted, and his generally repulsive appearance.

Nonetheless, I’ve managed to take samples of his skin, the fluids secreted from his body, and his blood. Attempts were made to perform scans, though I stopped midway through when Mr. Guevara began to melt through the surface he was laid on. He required additional assistance to sit up or stand after being laid down.

General physical probes and examinations with instruments indicate the presence of a malformed human skeletal structure beneath the layers of skin. However, standing X-rays reveal the absence of many vital organs which would be required for sustained survival. Vital organs within the lower abdomen, including the stomach, intestines, and liver appear fused into a fluid-filled abscess.

Notably, Paul possesses a singular functioning hand, lungs, vocal cords, and a nearly full-sized human brain. I’ve also noticed a set of white, taut spheres of skin on his face that appear to be Paul’s eyes, though it seems he is barely able to move them. Similarly, Mr. Guevara has limited motor functions, but seems keen on trying to write with a pen stuck in his ‘hand’.

Mr. Guevara (apparently his preferred name) is an avid writer of some kind. He insisted (in an oddly poetic manner) that he be kept somewhere to continue on with what he described as his “desired literary works”. I’ll be seeing if it’s possible to construct for him some kind of permanent accommodation within the research center. I have some ideas, but the best option would probably be keeping him down with other specimens that the students use.

Lord, you have forgiven me.

I have been baptized, born anew.

My past sins are now absolved.

Blessed be Your merciful Name.

Hello, Lee.

I’m finally writing this letter to you as thanks. There is no possible way for me to convey my gratitude for giving me a second chance at life. There is no possible way for me to express to you how grateful I am. When you found me, I was alone, confused, and frightened beyond comprehension. Your actions saved me from myself. You saved me from my own body, and gave me new life.

Because of you, I was given the opportunity to live again in safety, among those who will help and allow me to thrive. Students often come and watch me in awe, amazed at my ability to write and comprehend them in spite of my bodily state. Although my capabilities are yet hampered in this house of flesh, I am freed to express myself once again because of you.

I have been told that many of your initial logs describing me are to be put into some kind of research document, and with that, I wish to attach a copy of this letter. It shall be my modest expression of undying gratitude.

I pray to hear from you soon! Perhaps I can write some poetry for you.

Your great friend,
Paul Guevara.

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