Never Work The Graveyard Shift at the County Morgue
I breathed in and out as slowly as I could, trying to stay calm, not knowing that it was about to become a lot more difficult to do that.
I could see my breath, thin and ghostly in the air, as if winter itself had slipped into the room. Then came a cold so sharp it burned, starting at my neck, spreading like frostbite through my veins. It tightened, slow and deliberate, until I could feel the weight of it pressing in. Each breath grew smaller, shallower, the air thinning as invisible hands closed around my throat. Within seconds, it wasn’t just cold anymore. It felt like something was choking the life out of me, patiently, almost curious to see how long it would take.
It wouldn’t take much more, and the force was relentless. I was scratching and clawing at my neck, hoping to put an end to it all, but it was no use. I could feel my nails against my skin, but the suffocation continued.
I couldn’t scream, I couldn’t run, I could do nothing. There was nothing I could fight. There was nothing there. And still, I was certain that I was dying.
How it began..
I’m not a mortician, but I spend most of my nights at the county morgue. I work there as a night-shift cleaner. I’ve always been a believer in the paranormal, but I always figured that if spirits still walked the earth, they wouldn’t bother spending that time still at the morgue. They would explore the world that was given to them.
I was so very wrong.
I’m a smaller man, introverted and quiet, and I like a job where I can be left alone to do what I need to do and move on. However, this economy is tough, and one job simply doesn’t cut it anymore. That is how I wound up working as a night-shift cleaner at the morgue.
I needed a job that could be done in the evenings, but wasn’t fast-paced. During the day, I work as a custodian in an elementary school, and I’m sure you can imagine just how exhausting that is. I tried working retail as a second job, but that didn’t work. I tried working online as a second job but found it difficult to stay on top of all my tasks. Working from home has never functioned well for me.
Eventually, a friend of mine sent me a link to a job ad for the morgue. I called them and learned that really all they needed was someone to come in at night and mop the floors, empty out some trash cans, clean the surfaces, and dust. Pretty basic stuff.
Nothing would be particularly dirty, as the morgue is also cleaned throughout the day, but to have someone come in after everyone had left gave the morticians some peace of mind when they arrived in the morning.
I was hoping that my day job as a custodian might help me get hired; basically, it’s the same kind of work. As it turns out, not many people applied for the job, and I started two days later.
The job description was true. I cleaned the floors, wiped down the counters, and occasionally had to empty a trash can of items that were largely unidentifiable. I eventually chose to rather not to look into the trash bins.
It was peaceful. There was me, and a night-shift guard, and sometimes the mortician would work a little later than usual. I worked for about three or four hours and, when I was done, I went home.
The best part about the job was that it wasn’t an hourly pay. Regardless of how long it took me to get it done, the pay was the same. So, if I rushed, or it had been an unusually slow day at the morgue, I still made it home nice and early and got the same income.
Those were all things about the job that I really enjoyed. It would have been nicer if I had gotten along better with the night guard, but he was a jumpy man with a lot to say and an opinion about everything, but most of the time, I avoided him and kept my headphones on.
One night, I had forgotten my headphones. I considered for a moment returning home to get them before I started, but decided that it would end my night too late, and I didn’t want that to happen.
So, I forged forward like any good employee would have done. However, that meant I had to listen to the night guard complain about various things as the night progressed. It also meant that the sounds of the morgue were completely exposed to me for probably the first time since I started working there.
The guard had decided to go out for a smoke, and so I had a rare moment of peace and quiet that night. I was working as quickly as I could in order to get home and away from the political rant that the guard had thrown himself into that night.
I get it. The job is a little lonely, and some company is nice, but couldn’t we have spoken about something a little less divisive, maybe baseball?
I heard him come back in what sounded like a hurry. The door slammed down the hallway, and he was running toward the other end of the morgue. Concerned that something was wrong, I paused and listened closely.
I didn’t hear him shouting or carrying on, so I eased. He must have just been going to the breakroom, or the bathroom, or something like that. That’s what I thought. Until he walked up in front of me, the complete opposite direction that I’d heard the noises from.
He carried on our conversation where we’d left off, while I stared at him with wide eyes. I told him in no uncertain terms to stop talking and stay very quiet. I whispered to him that I’d heard the door slam and someone running.
He was puzzled. He claimed it couldn’t be possible, which only made me angrier. I insisted that I’d heard it, and he begrudgingly went off to take a look. Ten minutes later, I still hadn’t moved. He came to let me know that he hadn’t found anybody in the building and had checked the camera system, but couldn’t see anything when he reviewed the footage.
It didn’t make sense to me, but it was reassuring enough, and I continued on with my job. What I’d heard must have simply been something else entirely. However, I did note an abrupt end to the guard’s conversation with me. He returned to his station seemingly frustrated and on edge.
I figured I’d just annoyed him with my paranoia, but I did enjoy the silence as I carried on with my work. There wasn’t much left of it to do, and it was going quicker now that I didn’t have company. I’d be home in no time.
Then there it was, the sound of the guard returning to further educate me on all the ways he thought he could better run our country. I listened to his footsteps approach and turned my back, hoping I might seem too busy for him.
But let’s be honest, anybody can mop and hold a conversation. So, I anticipated his arrival at any second. I only hoped he’d brought me some coffee with him. However, I hadn’t anticipated him flicking my ear.
My temper snapped. “What the hell, man?”. I spun around, my face red, and ready to confront him, only to find an empty room. My breath caught in my chest as I faced reality.
I know I didn’t just imagine it, I had felt my ear being flicked, rather hard. Keep in mind that I wear glasses, and it almost caused them to fall off. I stood very still for a moment, feeling a little dizzy, as anxiety, or maybe even slight panic, passed over me.
There was nothing to do but to carry on with my job. The quicker I got it done, the quicker I could go home and forget all about it. But the memory of the door banging and the running footsteps lingered a little louder now that I’d thought someone was right behind me.
For the first time since I started working there, I thought about all the dead bodies that were around me. And it started to creep me out. Suddenly, I wished the guard was there to fill the empty space with noise so that I wouldn’t notice any of it.
At least when he was speaking, I wasn’t imagining the dead walking all around me. I got chills and felt nauseous from the thoughts. It isn’t something enjoyable or thrilling to experience in any way. It made me feel remarkably vulnerable.
If there truly was an invisible something moving around me, then I was completely at its mercy. I would have no way of knowing where it was or what it was doing. It was easily the riskiest thing I had faced in my life.
That room wasn’t done yet, but I left. I knew that if there was something out of place or not cleaned properly, I would be in a small amount of trouble the next day, but that seemed preferable to staying in there where I’d just had something flick my ear.
I moved two rooms down, hoping that some distance would do the trick. The room I was in then was the largest in the building and always took some time, but I got started right away to complete it as quickly as possible. There were only three rooms left before I could call it a night and head to the safety of home.
Still, I hoped the guard would come back and keep me company for those three rooms.
I got to work dusting the windowsills and that sort of thing. By then, I’d established some sort of routine, and I followed it, hoping that would make me feel more secure.
However, when I heard the door open behind me, I got chills. The room felt like it had dropped in temperature by a few degrees, and the hair on the back of my neck stood up. I didn’t want to turn around.
By then, logic had learned to override assumption, and I knew that if it was the guard, he’d already be talking. The fact that it was silent told me all that I needed to know. It’s difficult to know what to do in that situation, because you can’t see where the threat is coming from. Yes, it came through the door, but then where did it go?
Running made no sense; it was clearly moving about as it wished. Fighting would likely do nothing, too. So, I waited and hoped that it would come to an end. However, I did eventually turn around.
I didn’t want the room to my back and my face against the wall. I preferred it the other way around. As I turned, I felt a breeze rush past me, and I knew that, whatever it was, it was cold and right there. I breathed in and out as slowly as I could, trying to stay calm, not knowing that it was about to become a lot more difficult to do that.
I could see my breath, thin and ghostly in the air, as if winter itself had slipped into the room. Then came a cold so sharp it burned, starting at my neck, spreading like frostbite through my veins. It tightened, slow and deliberate, until I could feel the weight of it pressing in. Each breath grew smaller, shallower, the air thinning as invisible hands closed around my throat. Within seconds, it wasn’t just cold anymore. It felt like something was choking the life out of me, patiently, almost curious to see how long it would take.
It wouldn’t take much more, and the force was relentless. I was scratching and clawing at my neck, hoping to put an end to it all, but it was no use. I could feel my nails against my skin, but the suffocation continued.
I couldn’t scream, I couldn’t run, I could do nothing. There was nothing I could fight. There was nothing there. And still, I was certain that I was dying.
Just when I worried that it might never release and I would never make it out of there, the guard came running through the door, his eyes wide. As soon as he entered the room, the clamping feeling around my neck seized and released.
I gasped for air, falling back, gripping the windowsill to keep myself up. The guard came rushing over to me and helped me up. I tried to explain to him, but my voice was hoarse and my breath still burned in my lungs.
He helped me to the breakroom, where he offered me water and made me sit down. Then he explained. He’d been watching the cameras closely after I’d told him about the running. He’d just been glancing over the room I was in when he saw the door open and close by itself behind me.
He’d come running and made it there just in time. Neither of us had a clear explanation for it, and I’m not sure I want one.
I quit my job at the morgue that night. It just seemed too risky to go back. I was defenseless, and there was nothing I could do to make myself any more secure against such a threat. The guard, however, remained.
He needed his job more than I needed mine.
About a week later, he sent me a text. He explained that, after looking into it, he’d learned that the morning of the incident, a body had been brought into the morgue. A victim of a suicide by hanging.
I thought of the burning sensation at my neck, and my struggle for oxygen, and wept.
I will never go back. However, the job still needs to be filled. If you’re considering a job at a morgue or a cemetery, or even a hospital, just know that some spirits take longer than others to leave, and some that stay are dangerous.
We have no defenses against it; we merely live our lives, lucky enough to never know the threat.
This has been Pale Lantern Media.
If you hear footsteps when you know you’re alone… If something cold brushes the back of your neck… If unseen hands tighten around your throat in the dark…
Don’t stay to finish the job. Leave the mop. Leave the lights on. Leave everything.
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