This will hopefully become the first of a series of posts concerning the various supernatural happenings that occur at my job on a semi regular basis. Of course we all know how good I am at updating….

I have personally experienced several weird things in one specific stockroom. This stockroom opens directly to the sales floor, and has the added appeal of a door directly opposite which leads into the back area. This has proven to be a handy shortcut to the freight elevators (I’m a lazy bastard and can’t deal with the exercise required to walk to the escalators), as well as the rooms containing the switches to the air handlers.

When I close–which is too damn much and a different rant entirely–I turn off the air handlers on the second and third floor. Since third is my domain, I take care of those first before making my way down to catch the ones on second. By this time, most of the lights are off, and the stockroom I use for a shortcut is pretty dark and creepy.

One night I’m doing the usual run, and while I was walking back to the door leading into the stockroom and back to the sales floor, I start to hear children giggling behind me. It wasn’t loud, but it was distinct. I look behind, and of course there is no one there. Just great. So I walk through the door I left open wanting to get back to open spaces and living people when the door behind me closes slowly with a soft creak. Mind you, the door was open, I know the air isn’t moving–air handlers are off–and I did not touch the door while passing through it. There was no reason for it to…son of a bitch.

I take small comfort in the knowledge that a number of other associates have confessed to being uncomfortable in this stockroom. The number one complaint seems to be the feeling of being watched. Or followed.

A second occurance which happened a few days ago may have been worse. Same routine, only this time, no giggles, no moving doors. I felt pretty good and had almost made my escape when a baby began crying directly behind me. Loudly. I spun around right when the sound cut off mid-sob. Again I faced an empty stockroom and a silence broken only by me.

“Goddammit.”

Next up: “Tales of the third floor women’s restroom”