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 is a piece of Fan Fiction submitted to the 2023 Fallout Creepypasta Contest.

Story
It was a chilly, moonless night in the wasteland, and I huddled around a makeshift campfire, the flickering flames casting eerie shadows on the cracked and desolate landscape. The distant rumble of mutant creatures echoed through the ruins of the old world, a haunting reminder of the horrors that had befallen humanity. I was the Sole Survivor, searching for supplies and answers in the wasteland, but what I found that night was something I could never have prepared for.

As I scoured an abandoned pre-War town, I came across a series of faded posters taped to crumbling walls. They depicted Vault 111, a place I'd never heard of before. The posters were worn and tattered, but the Vault's slogan was still visible: "Welcome Home." It piqued my curiosity. Why hadn't I heard of this Vault before? It was as if it had been erased from history.

With a feeling of unease gnawing at the pit of my stomach, I decided to investigate further. I followed the signs, each one leading me deeper into the heart of the wasteland. The night grew darker, and an eerie fog began to envelop the area. My Pip-Boy clicked ominously, warning me of increasing radiation levels.

Finally, I reached the entrance of Vault 111. The massive, vault-like door was tightly sealed, but to my surprise, the control panel was still functional. With a creak and a groan, the door slowly opened, revealing a long-abandoned corridor lined with flickering lights.

As I ventured deeper into the Vault, I noticed that the interior seemed untouched by time. The pristine walls, the clean floors—it was as if the Vault had been abandoned only yesterday. But something was amiss. I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being watched.

As I explored further, I discovered strange recordings left behind by the Vault's inhabitants. They spoke of an experiment, one that was meant to preserve their dreams forever. The scientists in Vault 111 had developed a technology that allowed them to enter the dreams of the residents, effectively trapping their minds in a never-ending state of utopia while their bodies remained in stasis.

The residents were promised a perfect life, free from the harsh realities of the wasteland. But as I listened to more recordings, it became clear that the dream technology had malfunctioned, turning their dreams into nightmares. The residents were trapped in a never-ending cycle of terror and suffering, unable to escape their own subconscious.

My heart raced as I continued to explore the Vault. The further I delved, the more I could hear their anguished screams and see their twisted, contorted faces etched into the walls. It was as if the Vault itself had absorbed their torment and had become sentient, a malevolent force that fed on their suffering.

I knew I had to leave, to escape this nightmarish place, but the Vault had other plans. The entrance slammed shut behind me, trapping me inside. The lights flickered, and the walls closed in on me, the screams of the trapped residents growing louder with each passing moment.

Desperation set in as I tried to find a way out, but the Vault seemed determined to keep me there, to make me one of its tormented souls. My Pip-Boy's screen glitched and displayed a single, chilling message: "WELCOME HOME."

And then, the Vault consumed me, my consciousness merging with the tortured minds of those who had come before me. I became another lost soul, forever trapped in the Vault, a nightmare that would haunt the wasteland for eternity.

So, beware Vault 111, for it is not a sanctuary but a prison of the mind, where dreams turn to nightmares, and hope is but a distant memory in the wasteland's eternal darkness.

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