Speaker 1: I've been working the night shift at this warehouse for
Speaker 1: about six months. Honestly, it's not a bad job. Boring, yes,
Speaker 1: but not bad. I come in around ten pm clock
Speaker 1: in and spend the next eight hours restocking shelves, organizing inventory,
Speaker 1: and preparing shipments. The warehouse is massive, filled with rows
Speaker 1: upon rows of towering shelves that stretch far into the distance,
Speaker 1: and at night, it's just me and the quiet. I'm
Speaker 1: not sure when it started. At first, I figured I
Speaker 1: was just tired working night shifts. Does that to you?
Speaker 1: Your mind plays tricks on you in the dark, especially
Speaker 1: in a place as big and empty as this. But
Speaker 1: lately I've been hearing things little noises, footsteps, the soft
Speaker 1: creak of metal, and a faint scratching sound like something
Speaker 1: being dragged across the floor. I tried to brush it off,
Speaker 1: thinking it must be rats or pigeons, But something about
Speaker 1: the those sounds echoed through the warehouse, bouncing off the
Speaker 1: concrete floors and the towering shelves, felt off like someone
Speaker 1: was in here with me. But that's impossible. I'm the
Speaker 1: only one working the night shift. At least that's what
Speaker 1: I thought the first time I really noticed something strange.
Speaker 1: It was a Thursday night a few weeks ago. I
Speaker 1: was restocking one of the back aisles, the kind that
Speaker 1: doesn't get much foot traffic even during the day. I
Speaker 1: had a palette of boxes to unload and was deep
Speaker 1: into the task when I heard it, a faint clatter,
Speaker 1: like something had fallen over. I paused, the sound echoing
Speaker 1: through the aisles, and for a moment I stood there,
Speaker 1: listening nothing. I shook my head, figuring it was just
Speaker 1: something that had shifted on the shelves. But then I
Speaker 1: heard it again, this time closer. I grabbed my flashlight
Speaker 1: and peered down the aisle. Everything seemed normal. The shelves
Speaker 1: were in place, the boxes stacked where I'd left them.
Speaker 1: I stood there for a moment, straining to hear anything else,
Speaker 1: but there was only silence. I shrugged it off, trying
Speaker 1: to convince myself that I was being paranoid. It was
Speaker 1: just the building settling. That's what I told myself until
Speaker 1: the following night. I was organizing inventory near the back
Speaker 1: of the warehouse, the farthest point from the loading dock.
Speaker 1: The lights were always dimmer back there, and the air
Speaker 1: felt cooler, almost like the temperature dropped a few degrees
Speaker 1: the further back you went. It was probably just a
Speaker 1: quirk of the building, but it always made me feel uneasy.
Speaker 1: I was about halfway through my shift when I saw it,
Speaker 1: a shadow. It darted between the rows of shelves. My
Speaker 1: hand gripped the box cutter a little tighter as my
Speaker 1: eyes scanned the aisles. Hello, I called out, my voice,
Speaker 1: echoing in the silence. No response. I stood there, waiting
Speaker 1: for the shadow to reappear, but nothing happened. I took
Speaker 1: a deep breath and moved closer to where I'd seen it,
Speaker 1: shining my flashlight down the aisle, but there was nothing,
Speaker 1: just row of boxes and shelves, all neatly organized. I
Speaker 1: tried to laugh it off. Maybe I was just tired.
Speaker 1: It wouldn't be the first time my mind played tricks
Speaker 1: on me during a long shift. But something about the
Speaker 1: way that shadow moved it didn't feel like a trick. Still.
Speaker 1: I pushed the thought aside and kept working, but I
Speaker 1: couldn't shake the feeling that I wasn't alone. The following week,
Speaker 1: the noises started getting worse. It wasn't just random clattering
Speaker 1: or the hum of the building anymore. I started hearing footsteps, clear,
Speaker 1: unmistakable footsteps. It always happened around the same time, sometime
Speaker 1: after midnight. I'd be working, minding my own business when
Speaker 1: I'd hear them, footsteps echoing through the warehouse. Sometimes they
Speaker 1: seemed far away, but other times they sounded like they
Speaker 1: were coming from the next aisle over. I'd drop whatever
Speaker 1: i was doing and rushover, but no one was ever there.
Speaker 1: It didn't make sense. There were security cameras all over
Speaker 1: the warehouse, and I'd checked them whenever I heard something strange.
Speaker 1: Nothing I was alone. But those footsteps, they were real.
Speaker 1: I know they were. One night, after hearing the footsteps
Speaker 1: yet again, I decided to check the security footage more carefully.
Speaker 1: I went to the management office and started scrolling through
Speaker 1: the feed. Everything seemed normal until I got to the
Speaker 1: footage from the back of the warehouse. There on the screen,
Speaker 1: I saw it. A figure. It was faint, almost like
Speaker 1: a blur, but it was there, moving between the rows
Speaker 1: of shelves, just like I'd seen in the corner of
Speaker 1: my eye. I paused the footage and stared at the screen.
Speaker 1: My heart was racing. I couldn't make out any details,
Speaker 1: just the shape of a person moving too quickly for
Speaker 1: the camera to focus. That's when I realized I wasn't
Speaker 1: imagining things. Something or someone was in the warehouse with me.
Speaker 1: The next night, I almost didn't come to work. I'd
Speaker 1: been feeling on edge for weeks, but I couldn't afford
Speaker 1: to miss a shift. Rent was due and I needed
Speaker 1: the paycheck. So I clocked in, grabbed my clipboard, and
Speaker 1: got to work, trying to ignore the pit of dread
Speaker 1: in my stomach. Everything was fine for the first couple
Speaker 1: of hours, quiet just like it always was. But around
Speaker 1: midnight things started to go wrong. I was stacking boxes
Speaker 1: in one of the far aisles when I heard a
Speaker 1: crash from the front of the warehouse. My heart jumped
Speaker 1: into my throat as I grabbed my flashlight and hurried
Speaker 1: toward the sound. When I got there, I found a
Speaker 1: palette of boxes scattered across the floor. It looked like
Speaker 1: someone had shoved them over. I checked the security feed again,
Speaker 1: but the footage was useless, just static that had never
Speaker 1: happened before. I felt my stomach twist with unease as
Speaker 1: I tried to figure out what to do. Was someone
Speaker 1: messing with me or was it something else? Before I
Speaker 1: could make a decision. The lights flickered once twice, then
Speaker 1: went out completely. I was plunged into darkness, the only
Speaker 1: light coming from the faint beam of my flashlight. That's
Speaker 1: when I heard it, the footsteps, but this time they
Speaker 1: weren't far away. They were close, too close. I stood there, frozen,
Speaker 1: listening as the footsteps grew louder, closer. My flashlight shook
Speaker 1: in my hand as I slowly turned around, shining the
Speaker 1: beam down the aisle, and that's when I saw it,
Speaker 1: a figure standing at the far end of the aisle.
Speaker 1: It was tall, its face obscured by shadows, but I
Speaker 1: could see the faint outline of a person. They were
Speaker 1: just standing there, staring at me. I could feel my
Speaker 1: heart thudding against my ribs as I tried to process
Speaker 1: what I was seeing. Who are you? I called out,
Speaker 1: my voice trembling, what do you want? The figure didn't respond.
Speaker 1: I took a step back, my hands shaking as I
Speaker 1: tried to keep the flashlight steady. The figure didn't move,
Speaker 1: but I could feel its gaze on me, cold and unrelenting,
Speaker 1: and then, without warning, it started moving toward me. I
Speaker 1: didn't wait to see what would happen next. I turned
Speaker 1: and ran, sprinting down the aisle as fast as I could.
Speaker 1: I could hear the footsteps behind me echoing off the walls.
Speaker 1: I darted through the maze of shelves, trying to find
Speaker 1: a way out. The warehouse felt like a labyrinth, the
Speaker 1: rows of boxes stretching out endlessly in every direction. I
Speaker 1: could hear the figure gaining on me, It's footsteps growing
Speaker 1: louder with each passing second. Finally I reached the loading dock.
Speaker 1: I slammed my hand against the emergency door release, and
Speaker 1: with a loud beep, the door swung open. I stumbled outside,
Speaker 1: gasping for breath, and turned to look behind me. The
Speaker 1: figure was gone. The warehouse was silent once more, as
Speaker 1: if nothing had happened. I stood there, trembling, trying to
Speaker 1: catch my breath. My mind raced with questions, but I
Speaker 1: didn't have any answers. I didn't know who or what
Speaker 1: that figure was, but I knew one thing for sure.
Speaker 1: I was never going back in there again. I quit
Speaker 1: the next day. The warehouse was haunted or cursed or something.
Speaker 1: I didn't care. All I knew was that whatever had
Speaker 1: been in there with me that night wasn't human. I
Speaker 1: don't know what I saw that night, and I don't
Speaker 1: want to know. Driving deliveries for a small courier firm
Speaker 1: isn't my dream job, but it gets the bills covered
Speaker 1: most of the time. The work is straightforward, pick up
Speaker 1: the package, drop it off, repeat. I usually do day shifts,
Speaker 1: but with the holiday rush, I was asked to cover
Speaker 1: some night deliveries. At first, I was fine with it,
Speaker 1: driving through quiet streets with no traffic, listening to my
Speaker 1: favorite podcasts. On my first night, I was scheduled to
Speaker 1: deliver a few packages to a business district about an
Speaker 1: hour outside of town. It was already dark by the
Speaker 1: time I left the warehouse, the kind of cold, moonless
Speaker 1: night that made everything seem a little more sinister. Still,
Speaker 1: I wasn't too worried. I'd done late night runs before
Speaker 1: and never had any issues. The business district I was
Speaker 1: heading to was a weird spot. Though it was part
Speaker 1: of an industrial park with rows of warehouses and offices
Speaker 1: tucked away in a remote area just off the main highway.
Speaker 1: The place was pretty much deserted after dark. No one
Speaker 1: worked there at night, which meant it was usually quiet,
Speaker 1: almost too quiet. As I drove down the long stretch
Speaker 1: of road leading to the industrial Park. I kept telling
Speaker 1: myself it was just another delivery in and out, but
Speaker 1: something felt different that night. The air felt heavier, and
Speaker 1: there was a sense of unease I couldn't shake. I
Speaker 1: arrived at the industrial park just before midnight. The whole
Speaker 1: area was eerily silent, with only a few dim street
Speaker 1: lights casting long shadows across the pavement. The warehouses and
Speaker 1: office buildings loomed like silent giants, their windows dark and uninviting.
Speaker 1: I parked my van in front of the first building
Speaker 1: on my route, a large, nondescript office with a plain
Speaker 1: concrete exterior. I grabbed the package from the back of
Speaker 1: the van and walked toward the entrance. It was supposed
Speaker 1: to be a simple drop off, scan the package, leave
Speaker 1: it in the designated dropbox, and go. But as I
Speaker 1: approached the door, I noticed something strange. The front door
Speaker 1: was slightly ajar, just enough for me to see the
Speaker 1: dim glow of a flickering light inside. That wasn't normal.
Speaker 1: The place should have been locked up for the night
Speaker 1: with no one around. I hesitated for a moment, wondering
Speaker 1: if I should go inside and see if anyone was there,
Speaker 1: but my instincts told me to just drop the package
Speaker 1: and leave. I decided to leave it in the dropbox
Speaker 1: and get out of there. As I scanned the package,
Speaker 1: I felt like someone was watching me. I couldn't explain it.
Speaker 1: It was just this creeping sensation that made the hairs
Speaker 1: on the back of my neck stand on end. I
Speaker 1: finished the delivery and quickly walked back to my van,
Speaker 1: trying to shake off the feeling. But as I climbed
Speaker 1: into the driver's seat, I glanced back at the building.
Speaker 1: The door was now closed. I told myself it was nothing.
Speaker 1: Maybe the wind had blown the door shut. Even though
Speaker 1: I didn't hear any noise, Still, I couldn't shake the
Speaker 1: unease as I headed to my next delivery. This one
Speaker 1: was at a warehouse on the far edge of the
Speaker 1: industrial park, even more isolated than the first location. I
Speaker 1: followed the narrow, winding road that led to the building,
Speaker 1: my head lights the only light. The warehouse loomed ahead,
Speaker 1: its metal siding glinting faintly in the dim light. I
Speaker 1: parked the van near the entrance and grabbed the package.
Speaker 1: As I approached the door, I saw something, or rather someone,
Speaker 1: standing near the back of the building. At first I
Speaker 1: thought it was just a trick of the light, but
Speaker 1: as I got closer, I could make out the figure
Speaker 1: of a man standing perfectly still near the loading dock.
Speaker 1: He wasn't moving, just standing there, facing away from me.
Speaker 1: His posture was unnaturally stiff, like he was waiting for something. Hey,
Speaker 1: I called out, my voice, echoing through the quiet night,
Speaker 1: you work here. The figure didn't respond, he didn't move
Speaker 1: at all. I felt my heart rate quicken as I
Speaker 1: took a step closer, my hand tightening around the package.
Speaker 1: Something about the way he was standing, the stillness of it,
Speaker 1: sent a chill down my spine. I took another step forward,
Speaker 1: but just as I did, the figure vanished. I blinked,
Speaker 1: my mind racing to make sense of what I'd just seen.
Speaker 1: One second he was there, and the next he was gone,
Speaker 1: like he just disappeared into thin air. I felt a
Speaker 1: wave of nausea wash over me as I quickly dropped
Speaker 1: the package off and rushed back to my van. I
Speaker 1: started the engine, my hands shaking, and sped out of
Speaker 1: there without looking back. The rest of my deliveries were
Speaker 1: supposed to be routine, but after the encounter at the warehouse,
Speaker 1: I couldn't shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong.
Speaker 1: Every time I turned a corner or parked outside another building,
Speaker 1: a part of me thought I might see that figure
Speaker 1: standing there watching me. It wasn't until my final delivery
Speaker 1: of the night that things really took a turn for
Speaker 1: the worse. My last stop was at a small office
Speaker 1: building at the very edge of the industrial park. The
Speaker 1: place looked abandoned, no lights, no cars in the lot,
Speaker 1: and the windows were covered in grime, like no one
Speaker 1: had been there for years. But the address matched the
Speaker 1: one on the package, so I figured it was just
Speaker 1: an old building that hadn't been updated in the system.
Speaker 1: I parked the van and got out, the cold air
Speaker 1: biting at my skin. The silence was deafening, broken only
Speaker 1: by the soft crunch of gravel under my boots as
Speaker 1: I walked toward the building. As I approached the front door,
Speaker 1: I noticed something strange, a piece of paper taped to
Speaker 1: the glass. It looked like some kind of note, hastily
Speaker 1: written in red marker. I squinted in the dim light,
Speaker 1: trying to make out the words leave now you're being watched.
Speaker 1: My heart skipped a beat. I stared at the note,
Speaker 1: My mind racing. Was this some kind of prank, a
Speaker 1: joke left by a board employee? But then I remembered
Speaker 1: the f I'd seen earlier, and my stomach churned with dread. Suddenly,
Speaker 1: the air felt heavier, suffocating. I glanced around, but the
Speaker 1: lot was empty. I was alone, or at least I
Speaker 1: thought I was. I dropped the package at the door,
Speaker 1: my hands trembling, and turned to head back to the van.
Speaker 1: But as I started walking, I heard it, a soft,
Speaker 1: rustling sound coming from behind me. I froze, my breath
Speaker 1: catching in my throat. Slowly I turned around. The figure
Speaker 1: was back. He was standing in the shadows near the
Speaker 1: corner of the building, just far enough away that I
Speaker 1: couldn't make out his features, but I knew it was him,
Speaker 1: the same figure I'd seen at the warehouse, the same
Speaker 1: unnerving stillness, the same eerie presence. He didn't move, didn't
Speaker 1: make a sound, he just stood there. Pannocks surged through
Speaker 1: me as I turned and ran to the van, my
Speaker 1: heart pounding in my ears. I fumbled with the keys,
Speaker 1: my hands shaking so badly I could barely get the
Speaker 1: door open. I threw myself into the driver's seat, slammed
Speaker 1: the door and locked it. But as I started the engine,
Speaker 1: I saw him again. He was standing in the middle
Speaker 1: of the road, directly in front of the van. His
Speaker 1: face was still obscured by shadows, but I could feel
Speaker 1: his eyes on me, burning through the darkness. I didn't wait.
Speaker 1: I floored the gas pedal, swerving around him. My headlights
Speaker 1: caught a brief glimpse of his figure as I sped
Speaker 1: past him, but when I looked in the rear view mirror,
Speaker 1: he was gone. I drove out of that industrial park
Speaker 1: as fast as I could, my hands gripping the steering
Speaker 1: wheel so tightly my knuckles were white. I kept looking
Speaker 1: in the mirrors, but the road behind me was empty.
Speaker 1: I didn't stop driving until I was back on the highway,
Speaker 1: miles away from the industrial park. My heart was still
Speaker 1: racing and my mind was spinning with questions. Who was
Speaker 1: that figure, why was he following me? And what the
Speaker 1: hell did that note mean. I tried to calm myself down,
Speaker 1: telling myself it was just some kind of prank or coincidence,
Speaker 1: but deep down I knew it was something about that
Speaker 1: night felt different, like I had crossed some invisible line
Speaker 1: into a place I wasn't supposed to be. I finished
Speaker 1: my route and returned to the warehouse to drop off
Speaker 1: the van, but I couldn't shake the feeling that I
Speaker 1: was still being watched. As I handed in my keys
Speaker 1: and clocked out, I saw the dispatcher looking at me
Speaker 1: with a strange expression. He opened his mouth like he
Speaker 1: was going to say something, but then he shook his
Speaker 1: head and handed me my receipt. Everything okay, I asked,
Speaker 1: my voice sounding more casual than I felt. He hesitated
Speaker 1: than nodded, Yeah, it's just strange. Another driver reported seeing
Speaker 1: someone hanging around the industrial park last week, said it
Speaker 1: creeped him out. My stomach dropped. Did they say what
Speaker 1: he looked like? I asked. He shook his head no,
Speaker 1: just said he felt like he was being followed. I
Speaker 1: didn't say anything after that. I just left. It's been
Speaker 1: a few days since that night, and I haven't gone
Speaker 1: back to work. I told him I was sick, but
Speaker 1: the truth is I'm scared, scared that if I go back,
Speaker 1: I'll see him again.