WARNING – HORROR CONTENT
Caught in a Spider Web photo courtesy of Pennie Gibson
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Attribution License at Public Domain Pictures under “License”
Personally, I love any level of horror story. Picture book, middle grade, young adult, adult fiction – it’s all welcome.
A few summers back now, I read Coraline by Neil Gaiman for the first time. It’s a middle grade story, but I enjoyed the author’s vivid imagination despite being an adult at the time of reading it. For me, I don’t feel like this age difference took anything away from the twisted experience of the Other Mother presented in the story.
Of course, reading about scary things isn’t quite the same as living through them. Recalling Coraline’s story, the eeriness of it reminded me of when I was a security officer at one of my sites…
Bird’s Eye View of Lighted City photo courtesy of Josh Hild
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It was summer, and I was working full-time on second shift. The location I was at was a smaller building compared to some I’d worked at but big enough to still warrant a parking garage and elevators. I learned every nook and cranny of that building, where important things were for emergencies, problem spots, etc., because that was part of my job.
I’d been told by someone who worked there part of this building’s history was unpleasant. I took it in stride. They could’ve been exaggerating or just yanking my chain but, even if they weren’t, the past is just that way sometimes.
No surprise the lights were on a timer and some of them auto shut off every night. On the 6th floor, only a handful of them were left on. For me, this wasn’t ideal because when evening hit the entire floor morphed into this evil twin kind of place from all the deformed shadows that were cast.
The flashlight helped with those deeper obscurities, but it didn’t do anything for my increased pulse rate. Still, my footsteps were never any faster on the 6th level than anywhere else I walked, indoors or out, because you never knew who was watching or listening to you.
Person Looking Out the Window photo courtesy of Null Xtract
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Now, I understand the whole watching me part may sound over the top to some, so I’ll digress for a minute here.
I usually took my time on patrols no matter what the weather was. The site I was posted at had an apartment building across the street, and I used to glance up at those windows all the time. But I’ll admit I was more focused on the balconies.
Because who knew when someone would hit their rock bottom and jump? Probably morbid of me to think of, but I’d learned things could seemingly come out of nowhere on the job. And on those loveliest of days, when multiple things would hit all at once and you couldn’t help but think to yourself, holy hell. They all coordinate this sh- or what?
But those numerous events in my background had me considering possibilities that hadn’t even happened yet and hopefully never would. But at least I’d have a sketch of an idea of what I’d do if any of them ever did.
Still, no one ever jumped. My experience with those balconies would turn out to be far less dramatic.
Grayscale Photo of Building photo courtesy of StevenStorm Juhaszimrus
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Instead, one evening I had someone yell down at me, “Hey, it’s nice to see you again!”
Now, I can definitely see a lot of people thinking, “That’s it? What’s the big deal?” Well, here’s my thing. In all the hundreds of times I’d looked up at those balconies, I never once saw this person watching me.
On a much less paranoid level, I understand there was a super high probability they were just trying to be friendly – our very brief conversation afterwards definitely pointed in that direction. But because of the nature of the job, I couldn’t help but also consider looking at that from the exact opposite spectrum. And the fleeting exchange I had with this person made me wonder, who else noticed me at work when I didn’t know it?
Looking back, I’m sure this unanswered question only exacerbated the unnerving shadow-filled 6th floor I’d come to mildly dread. Because whenever I went up there at night, I always expected to be unpleasantly surprised by someone I didn’t know was still working. And then how would that look if they startled security?
Pretty sure whatever little confidence they had in not very tall me would go down the drain if that ever happened. Not cool. As it turned out though, I was always the one jumpscaring the stragglers that worked a little later than usual.
Scared Cat photo courtesy of Benjamin Réthoré
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Sorry. My bad.
But, one night towards the latter part of my evening shift, I swore I was the only one left in the building from my last patrol. I was watching cameras and kinda wishing somebody would give me a change of scenery when this crashing noise came out of nowhere from upstairs. My heart galloped, and I froze.
Wtf. Was. That?
It sounded like it’d come from one of the upper floors, and I looked up. I couldn’t see much from where I was at the front desk though, but it felt like I already knew which floor it really was without even going up there.
The 6th floor.
In that moment, I would’ve rather have dealt with some guy using the premise as a restroom, a group of guys drunkenly loitering, drug use on property, property destruction, prostitution, severe weather, or even a f-ing fire than whatever the hell was up there. And because that sh- actually scared me, I looked at the cameras again for a minute as if I could conjure up any of those things to take me away from what I’d just heard. But then?
It happened again. I sh- you not.
Close-up Photo of Skull courtesy of Mitja Juraja
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I felt the goosebumps all over me that time, and I had to force myself to think about things logically for a minute. No one had screamed in pain. No one had shouted down to me in embarrassment. No one was calling the guard phone. But…
what if an employee had come in when I was busy walking around on my last round and was now unconscious from whatever had caused those noises?
As remote as the possibility felt that late at night, I also knew a worker coming in at that time wasn’t completely unheard of. It was definitely much more reasonable than the spooky nonsense running through my head, and I shook off my budding paranoia. At the end of the day, my real-life world just wasn’t creepy like that. Besides, I was still security, I was still on the clock and it was still my job to go have a look.
So I left the front desk to go check that sh- out.
Now, I get some people might be laughing at what could be construed as my lame motivation. Because if you’d been in my place, maybe you’d have simply gone back to watching your movies or YouTube videos.
Or maybe others are thinking more along the lines of, “Not me man. F- that sh-,” and stayed at the front desk watching cameras and pretended they hadn’t heard a damn thing because maybe your worlds are macabre like that.
But then I’m sure I also have some hard core readers out there who might’ve thought, “Oh hell yeah. Let’s dance,” and jumped right up off that chair without a second thought.
But.
I knew that building like someone knows their own house and those crashes were not normal. For me, I had to use my integrity and the very slight possibility someone had been hurt in that freaky moment to help get myself out of that chair because I know the kind of person I am. I enjoy helping people, and I take pride in whatever work I’m doing.
And I was going to do my job.
Elevator Buttons photo courtesy of David Copeland
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So I swiped my access card and listened to the hum of the elevator as it went to the top floor.
My heart was settling down because I knew the lighting was good up there. When the elevator doors opened, the shadows were just shadows everywhere I walked. I went through the entire floor, but I found nothing noteworthy that could account for the thundering noises I’d heard.
But then, I hadn’t really thought I’d find anything on this level, either.
I pushed the stairwell door open to head down to the 6th floor as if this time wasn’t any different than all the others. Except my increased pulse rate told me it was as my footsteps echoed in that confined space. I took a deep breath and exhaled as much of that creepy Ouija bullsh- out as best I could.
But as I listened to my very loud and lonely resonances in that thankfully well-lit stairwell, my mind zoomed to all kinds of things.
What if it wasn’t an employee? What if an unauthorized person was in the building and they’d somehow gotten passed the locks – or maybe they didn’t have to because they’d stolen or found an employee’s badge? Maybe they were being quiet so I couldn’t find them.
Or worse? What if it wasn’t a who but an it? Something f-ed up could be waiting for me on that unholy floor…
Weird Young Woman with Spooky Face Art Against White Background photo courtesy of Dids
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Because the unpleasant history of the building wasn’t just lurking around in the back of my mind anymore. It’d slithered front and center and was messing with everything I knew to be true in the world I’d grown accustomed to. And I found myself wondering if I’d see something abnormal in those already demented shadows, or maybe it’d taunt me in the reflection of the windows as I walked by them.
My forced calm dissipated like a house of cards as my tiny footsteps suddenly morphed into a giant’s, because they betrayed exactly where I was. I tried not to hurry at the possibility of how I could be met with the sounds of someone or something else’s noises further down the stairs.
Think Friday the 13th music here because that’s what popped into my head… but if you’re more of a Michael fan, by all means, substitute that mess out. I’m flexible.
Either way, the realistic part of me shook my head and huffed at myself. Quit it. It was just a building. I babysat them all the time and going into overnight hours was nothing new to me. But as I got closer to the 6th floor’s door, my mind kept undoing the small reassurances I’d found.
What if the echoes of strange, hurried sounds came from above me where I knew no one was because I just came from there? My heartbeats suddenly mimicked a hummingbird’s as I swiped my access card to get the hell out of the stairwell that was playing with my head…
and stepped into the silent shadows of the 6th floor. This was not any better.
Silhouette of Woman photo courtesy of Engin Akyurt
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I turned my flashlight on and took one of my usual routes so I didn’t miss anything. I checked all the cubicles with their malformed shadows and tried not to think about the sh*tty reaction time they gave me if anything or anyone was actually in them.
I checked the offices with their own hidden surprises that I’d been dreading. Not only for their jack-in-the-box shadows but because of those damn windows. I half-expected to see some hovering image behind me whenever I walked by them…
but it was just me and the pale reflections of the offices themselves.
I did my due diligence and hit the bathrooms, too. I wasn’t too thrilled about the mirrors though, since they could reflect something I was damn sure I wouldn’t like. And because of all this nonsense running through my head, the men’s restrooms turned out to be one of the worst places for me to go through.
I hated blatantly giving away my location not just from the loud door of the stairwell or my flashlight but again with my own voice. Still, I knocked on the men’s bathroom doors and said, “Security,” before entering them and that night was no different.
What was different was how I couldn’t help but think some slimy, raspy thing would reach out for me from one of the closed stalls whispering, “We’ve been waiting for you.”
Man, who the f- was we?
Goosebumps reacquainted themselves with my skin, but this time they somehow stripped away all my years of experience by making me feel like a little girl again. My pulse jettisoned again in not knowing what I’d really find in those stalls, but I checked every single one of them anyways.
Nothing.
And then it flashed through my mind I wasn’t going to be able to get out of the men’s bathroom. I was going to be locked in there with them because they had been waiting for me but just didn’t call out to me like I’d imagined.
Silhouette of Person Touching Frosted Glass photo courtesy of Ron Lach
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But the men’s bathroom door opened just fine.
I slowly exhaled the breath I didn’t even realize I’d been holding. Holy f- this overactive imagination of mine was going to shave a good five years off my life. Despite that lovely thought, I finished checking the entire 6th floor.
Nothing had fallen over. Nothing was broken. No one was hurt. Everything was as it should be. Again. This was almost worse in a way because there was no reason I could determine for what I’d heard.
What’d made those noises then? Not once, but twice?
I checked the rest of the floors as I could’ve misjudged where the sounds came from. I still hated the men’s bathrooms the most every time I went into them, but I found the same nothing. Whatever had caused the crashing sounds remained unknown.
F-.
When I parked myself back at the front desk, I guzzled some water and listened to the disturbing silence as I sat in my chair and wrote up my report. I left out what a wimp I’d been through it all as the elevators whirred from time to time. Thankfully, it was normal for them to do that on their own.
But then, unexpectedly and softly, I heard a kind of clicking noise. It sounded a little bit like something was tapping against a hard surface and then it stopped.
Grayscale of Monitor Lizard’s Arm photo courtesy of Jimmy Chan
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I told myself it was just my nerves because I’ll admit they were a little frayed by that point. I took a deep breath and ignored them. They were nothing. But… then I’d never heard them before, either.
F-ing hell. Of course not.
And as I wrote up my report, the clicking sounds kept happening at intermittent times. I resisted the urge to play music on my cell phone to drown out the soft, unusual noises because I felt like I’d already been enough of a coward that night. I needed to make up for that and stick this sh- out.
But then Dean Koontz’s, Watchers, popped into my head. Man, I hadn’t read that book in almost three decades. It’d crossed my mind every now and then in a honeymoon’s glow kind of way since I’d first read it, but did it have to come back now?
Pausing for a minute here, if you’re someone who’s experienced that beautiful piece of work, then you’ll know exactly why those tapping sounds reminded me of that book. If not, well, I’m not going to ruin anything for you other than to say my mind jumped from supernatural bullsh- to government experiments involving recombinant DNA.
Unbelievable, right?
But at least I can say that now with a grin, though I most definitely was not smiling back then. At the time, I remember thinking I read and watched way too much horror because that sh- was catching up to me here and now.
Without the music I stubbornly refused to play on my cell phone, I finished my report in record time because those clicking noises were freaking me out. Probably they got to me because I never figured out what’d made those loud crashes from earlier.
Stairs to Building at Night photo courtesy of Erik Mclean
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I decided I wasn’t going to investigate again for soft, random taps so soon after I’d just checked everything and found nothing. But my jittery pulse demanded a compromise to no searching or music. So I got up and checked all the front doors instead.
They were locked.
Just like I knew they would be because I’d locked them myself when the sun was still shining. Instead of going back to my desk though, I simply stood there and looked out through the tall windows of those doors.
This was a normal thing I did at irregular times but that night was different. I wasn’t doing it for the job in that moment. I was doing it because of that random clicking and because I could feel how much this weird evening was getting to me. And I felt how much I’d rather slip out into the darkness rather than stay inside that lighted, locked building.
Yeah, right. Safe haven my a**.
Because despite knowing the location was secure, I got this crazy feeling I’d be safer out there. But I stayed where I was and watched the headlights of cars pass by every now and then. I knew what I was really looking for though – something that warranted my going out there. Still, there was no tapping where I was, and my pulse slowly went back to normal.
But I made the mistake of glancing at the reflection of the front desk in those windows instead of keeping my attention on the darkness outside. It was a bad call because I was reminded of how nervous I’d been of seeing something ghastly reflected behind me as I walked around on the 6th floor…
Honeymoon’s Glow
Image by Mimike M. Mountainwater
And that’s when I imagined something monstrous running by where I’d just been at the front desk in that stupid reflection – because of the book I’d read so long ago. Man, I really needed this f-ed up shift to be over. I pulled my cell phone out. I still had ten minutes left.
Son. Of. A. Butthole.
And I finally caved and pulled up YouTube on my phone. I let the music play loud enough for me to hear it from the pocket of my cargo pants and went back to that death trap of a so-called front desk.
Thankfully, I heard zero clicking this time as I watched the cameras and listened to my music. The occasional whirring of the elevators kept me company in the otherwise dead silence of the building.
I found my eyes kept straying to the camera that showed the dark hallway behind me. I couldn’t help but give that one extra attention for the escaped government experiment because there was no way in hell the monster was going to surprise me from that direction.
I know. Wow, right? But so not laughing then no matter how hard I tried to calm my jittery a** the f- down.
I was very glad the grotesque nightmare from my imagination sparked by Dean Koontz’s lovely story was never actually seen on cameras and only stalked my racing pulse as the minutes painfully ticked down to zero, and I got my things ready to go.
When my shift ended, I didn’t waste any time because I practically zoomed into that elevator. I was beyond relieved to finally be getting the hell out of there… only the doors wouldn’t close.
Seriously?
Even though the light on the elevator button was on, I hit it again. (Why do we do that?) Still nothing. Are you f-ing kidding me right now? This was real life – not a book or a movie. Since when did the elevator doors not respond?
And then I felt overly dramatic and stupid as I repeatedly hit the door close button. Only the obvious and simple solution wasn’t what I expected because those doors still refused to budge.
And my mind went flying again.
Man Wearing Creepy Costume photo courtesy of Ronaldo Murcia
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Sh-. I’d only felt like a little girl for a split second. Totally not one anymore but then… after all this mess rushing through my head for the last couple hours, I didn’t think Pennywise would really taste the difference.
I can honestly say there’s just nothing like feeling “lucky.”
Because the only difference now was the supernatural, the escaped government experiment and the old man had all made friends against me. Mf. Of course they had.
Still, I’m a cup half-full kind of person – at least I knew who “we” was now.
As I was standing in limbo, you’d think the next best solution would’ve popped into my head to just leave the elevator and take the stairs, right? But it never did because my mind was stuck on horror overdrive.
Later, I’d realize how ironic it was that before all this happened, when I watched or read horror stuff, I was always thinking to myself, why don’t they do this or that or just RUN! I’d come to understand a little better how easy it was to see things clearer when we’re not so freaked out.
Because my mind had been f-ing me over for what was supposed to be the looking forward to going home part of my shift – a sh*tty kind of dance I wasn’t all that accustomed to. And because I was so frazzled by this anomaly, it never once occurred to me to take the stairs. Looking back, I think now it was because I was actually more afraid of those echoing stairs than I was of the elevator.
Whatever the reason for those doors freezing, they did finally fix themselves and started closing, but they never moved so achingly slow. And though I’d subconsciously chosen to stay in the elevator, my mind kept ruining sh- for me. Because then I half-waited for something to whip its clawed, blood-stained paw between the narrowing gap and/or for the lights to flicker in the elevator…
thankfully, neither of those things actually happened.
Instead, I exhaled the breath I’d been holding as the elevator took me down, but I tensed as I descended because the downwards direction to “hell” reminded me of the 6th floor men’s bathroom and how I’d felt. I thought about what could be waiting for me when the elevator doors opened…
Undead Zombie Horror photo courtesy of Peace, Love, Happiness
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F-ing hell. Stop it! Nothing was waiting for me.
But I wasn’t totally confident about that until the elevator doors opened, and I saw with my own eyes nothing wanted to tear me apart after all. This tiny reassurance didn’t help much though as I listened to the isolated echoes of my footsteps in the empty garage and felt those damn goosebumps again.
Because it was the stairwell all over again, and I distracted myself by looking at the remaining cars. Aside from the usual ones parked in their assigned spots that no one ever drove, my car was the only one there.
I was alone.
My mouth suddenly went dry and no matter how close I got to my car, it still felt like it was a million miles away. But, even then, I simply walked. Just my own little f- you to that bizarre night.
I got my keys out and got my text ready to send to my husband. I was not spending one more second in that hell hole than I had to because I normally got that text ready in the car. This was just a safety precaution my man and I had in place for each other long before this night so we’d know something went wrong if one of us didn’t come home on time.
“On my way.”
I couldn’t send it yet until I pulled out of the garage though. I unlocked my car, got in and slammed that door shut as if something had planned on stopping it from closing. To hell with this freaky night already and all its bullsh-. I’d gotten way too paranoid in a whole lot of repeated nothing.
But that same nothing didn’t seem to make any difference to my colorful imagination. Okay, no more horror books or movies forever. But the vow didn’t help me out of paranoia misery as I pulled up to the underground parking doors.
I didn’t really want to roll my window down to swipe my card, but if I wanted out, I had to. And then I noticed the big fat spider underneath the box.
Black Spider photo courtesy of Anthony
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Hunh, f- whatever this sh- was tonight but joke was finally on it. Spiders didn’t scare me, and I swiped my card and waited for the double doors to open as I glanced at it.
“Good luck, dude. This place sucks tonight.”
And then out of nowhere John Carpenter’s, The Thing, popped into my head. I rolled up my window wishing it and the double doors would go faster. Because all I could think about were those poor dogs at the beginning of the movie and how that was so not going to be me.
Yeah, I know. So sad to admit that thought crossed my mind now.
But for f- sakes even on my way out of this damn building that eerie feeling was still with me. On a rational level, I knew that spider wasn’t going to morph into anything it shouldn’t be, but I was still kinda relieved when it didn’t.
Man, I just wanted my ice cool mojo back.
Still, the spider did help in his own way by simply sitting there as it waited for some bugs to wander in through the now open doors. I eagerly pulled out of that cursed building, hit “Send” on my phone and thought about how I had to be back at work tomorrow night.
Wonderful.
But the rest of my evening was uneventful as I made the hour plus drive home. When I got on the freeway, I rolled my window down again, enjoyed the breeze as the loose strands from my ponytail hair ruffled across my face and listened to the radio. By the time I got home, I felt a lot better. However, I did sleep unusually close to my hubby that night.
I talked to maintenance the next day about what those crashing sounds could’ve been. I got a possible explanation, but it didn’t really make sense to me. It was kind of loud at the time, and I didn’t hear everything he said. I do recall that I never did mention my trouble with the elevator doors closing or the clicking noises. They’d been minor, and I’d decided if they happened again, then I’d say something.
For the next week, I was walking on eggshells every time the sun went down but none of those things ever happened again while I was on the clock. I’d never once felt so off like that at work before or since that night but it sure did make for a halfway decent story to retell now.
Or at least I hope it did.
The Shadows that Stalk
Image by Mimike M. Mountainwater
One last thing I’ll also admit to is that I’m really glad I hadn’t read Coraline yet when all this happened. Can you imagine how much more glorious my “funhouse” would’ve been that night if I’d known about the relentless Other Mother?
***
I’d like to give my appreciation and thanks to Pennie Gibson, Josh Hild, Null Xtract, SevenStorm Juhaszimrus, Benjamin Réthoré, Mitja Juraja, David Copeland, Dids, Engin Akyurt, Ron Lach, Jimmy Chan, Erik Mclean, Ronaldo Murcia, Peace, Love, Happiness and Anthony for sharing their images. They all felt like they complimented my sh*tty night very well. Thanks man lol.
Now, I have some questions for anyone interested. Please remember any disrespectful remarks or links not relevant to the topic will be filtered out of the comments:
1.) Thoughts about what happened that night?
2.) Got a creepy, paranoid experience you wanna share?
3.) What are some of your favorite horror books?
4.) For anyone who hasn’t read Coraline, Watchers, or IT do you think you will now? Or is that still a hard no?
