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The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/Agreeable-Ease1664 on 2026-07-28 13:44:08+00:00.

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It was in the back stall. Tucked between the toilet and wall.

There was blood everywhere; on the wall, on the floor in a big sticky pool. I got a little bit of it on my shoe, it was coagulated and viscous, like honey. The dead man’s mouth was wide open, so were his eyes, his head was unnaturally tilted, in a way that hurt my own neck to even look at. I left the bathroom immediately, I was only trying to kill some time and avoid the awkward conversation at the table.

I returned to my seat, the conversation was still going. I looked down at my drink, the ice was beginning to melt, in a few short minutes the whole thing would be watered down and flavorless. I stirred it a little with my straw. Then something broke me out of my trance.

“I’m gonna hit the bathroom before we get out of here.”

My friend Sam stood up, sucking the excess barbeque sauce off of his fingers and wiping them on his pant leg. I kept my eyes fixed on the door of the men’s room. Conversation resumed around me. Without breaking line of sight with the bathroom door I picked up the last chicken wing and took one nervous bite before dropping it back down on the plate. My appetite was gone. I looked down at my shoe, moving my toe slightly. I heard that sticky sound against the tile of the floor. I looked up again at the bathroom door. Sam walked out, cracked his fingers, looked around him, and then made his way back to the table.

I heard a familiar sound as he approached the booth. That same sticky sound. I looked down at his shoes, and saw, to my horror, blood stains, and to follow, a trail of bloody footprints leading back to the bathroom door.

“You guys ready?” He glanced at his phone for the time, “movie’s in ten, if we leave now we might miss most of the previews.” The girls agreed and stood up, throwing down a few fives for the tip.

“You coming?” My girlfriend was staring at me. I laughed off my awkward delay, and stood up, walking out with them. Before we left I glanced back at the bathroom, a trail of bloody footprints left from the door. My stomach turned a little bit, and then I stepped out into the parking lot. The girls were just ahead of Sam and I, walking towards the car.

“Did you see that in there?” I asked him.

“See what?” Sam said, looking back with an anticipatory grin. On any normal night I might be about to tell him about some weird looking guy, or some ridiculously corny t-shirt I had seen in the restaurant, and we would have laughed at a stranger's expense, like we had a hundred times before.

“In the bathroom.” My tone was sharp, and it deflated his smile.

“No, I didn’t see anything.” Sam said, starting to sound a little worried.

“In the back stall?” I lifted my foot, indicating the blood on my shoe.

“Are you two bums gonna unlock the car?”

We looked up, our girlfriends were looking at us, mildly annoyed. Sam clicked the button on his keys, He climbed into the driver’s seat, the girls got in the back, and I in the passenger seat. While the overhead light was still on I could see that I was getting blood from my shoe on the floor of his truck, he was too.

“Ah shit, I’m sorry man.”

“What for?” He asked, shutting his door. The light faded off and the truck went dark.

“For getting all of this shit on the floor.”

He clicked the overhead light back on and looked over. Nothing was there.

“You good?”

“Yeah, I guess I just had a few too many beers.”

“You didn’t even have a beer.” Sam laughed and clicked the overhead light off. Sam kept the conversation going between us while I kept my eyes down on the floorboard. Straining through the dark, hoping to catch a glimpse in the flash of a passing street light of what I knew was down there, a smeared bloody footprint. The girls seemed to be continuing a conversation from earlier in the back, I only caught little snippets.

“Thats what I like most about him…he's NOT him, like not even close…No, no, he always asks, and he understands why I say no a lot.”

Whatever Tarah may have been adding between Heather's words I was totally unaware of. It was precisely that conversation that I had tried to escape from into the bathroom.

The place was packed. We parked towards the back of the parking lot. The red glow of the theater sign reflected off of rain puddles on the pavement. We stepped inside, Sam and Tarah stood in line in front of Heather and I. My eyes stayed on my shoes. The blood was still there, I still felt the bottom of my foot sticking to the floor a little bit, even after having deliberately stepped in a puddle. Sam didn’t seem to see it, not on his shoes, or mine. I could see the bloody footprints he was leaving behind, even here in the theater. No one else seemed to notice them though. I was baffled, I feel like I should’ve called the police back in the restaurant. Maybe ran out screaming, caused a big scene. Then everyone would know. Then I wouldn’t have this pit in my stomach. Then no one would ask me, if I ever did speak up, “Why didn’t you say something sooner.” As it sits now, I think, if I just continue to ignore this, forget what I saw in the back stall of the men’s room, someone else will find it, by now, I’m sure someone already has. Maybe Sam didn’t go all the way to the back stall, never caught a glimpse of what I had seen. The blood from that back stall had probably run all the way across the floor by the time he went in, he got a little unnoticeable amount on his shoe, that’s why he thinks I’m acting strange. He’d be acting the same way if he were me.

“Next!” Came a slightly annoyed voice from behind the register. I looked up.

“Oh, uh, two for um…”

“Same as the two in front of you I’d assume?”

“Yeah, yes please.” I handed the lady a twenty and took my five in change. Went to get some popcorn and drinks for Heather and I while she caught up to Tarah and Sam. When I caught back up with them, Sam was giving a demonstration on the “proper” way to salt and butter popcorn. The girls were ignoring him, I wanted to laugh, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t get my shoe to stop sticking on the floor, no matter how hard I wiped it against the carpet.

Theatre 8 was the smallest theater in the whole building, at the far end of the long hallway. We weren’t seeing the big Summer Blockbuster that everyone else was there to see. The movie we were watching, whatever it was, had already been in theaters a week longer than it deserved, and anyone who even wanted to see it, already had. No one was there but us. Knowing Sam and Tarah, I knew they had no intention of actually watching much of the movie.

Nervously, I nipped at some of the popcorn, all the while trying to discreetly wipe the bottom of my shoe against the floor. No matter how hard I tried, the sticky, now almost gum like blood would not come off.

“What's the matter honey?” Heather said, placing her hand on my shoulder.

“Oh it's just this…I don't know what, stuck on my shoe. It's driving me up a wall.” I whispered.

“Well go to the bathroom and try to wipe it off then.” She said.

I stood, sliding past Sam and Tarah, already making out. The theater, which had just a moment before been buzzing with energy suddenly felt empty, bordering on desolate. I made my way towards the bathroom and stepped up to the sink immediately. I grabbed a few paper towels, wet them, and began to try and wipe the blood off of the sole of my sneaker. It defied all logic. It stayed there, as sticky as it was when my foot first touched it.

I knelt down to take my shoe off, in doing so I happened to glance under the stalls. My heart stopped when my eyes landed on a pair of legs, stretched out as though someone sat on the floor of the back stall. I stood, slowly walking towards the back stall. The sticking sound of my shoe against the tile, like someone peeling tape off of a roll, filled the room.

When I opened the stall door I don’t know what I expected to see, but it certainly wasn't the same dead body that I had seen in the restaurant. Though that is exactly what I saw. The same face, the same blood splattered on the walls and pooling up on the floor; flowing out of his mouth, nearly dried, covering his shirt and the front of his pants. This was my opportunity to make up for what I had neglected to do the first time. I could run out of there screaming, crying, begging for someone to call the police. Yet none of that came to me in the moment, not genuinely. I turned around, and walked out of the bathroom. Went back down that long hallway, and returned to my seat in Theatre 8, next to Heather.

“What's wrong?” She asked immediately. Sam and Tarah turned towards me as well.

“There's a dead body in the bathroom. Back stall. Blood everywhere. He was at the restaurant too.”

Heather looked horrified. In a sort of, “I don't get the joke” kind of way.

“What did he just say?” Sam asked, almost laughing at the absurdity of what I had just said. I looked at him as gravely as I could.

“Go to the bathroom, go to the back stall, and tell me what you see.” Sam's smile was once again gone, and he rose and left the theater.

The three of us sat there in silence. I could feel Tarah and Heather's eyes on me, but I turned towards the screen, started eating popcorn, aggressively shaking my leg, the distinctive pop of my shoe against the floor was like a metronome set too fast.

Tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick

Neither of the girls spoke. I don't blame them, I don't really know what I would say e...

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