Stories to keep you up at night

The lock

This is a brief account of an experience I had almost a year ago in the warehouse where I work alone. No one I've told has believed me, but perhaps you all will.

I work in a warehouse that my father purchased. He bought it for 25% of its cost from a farmer who seemed very excited to be rid of it. It is in the middle of Mennonite country, with no neighbors for a half-mile around. Look out the window...you see cornfields and scraggly trees. Cell service? Forget about it. I work here alone, painting and preparing the front office portion for eventual functionality. To get to the front office, you must go through a hallway from the main warehouse, into a secondary office, and then through another door into the front.

I frequently hear bumps and thuds and occasionally will go into the warehouse and feel air movement, but I've always attributed it to drafts and animal life in the roof. The only thing that has ever made me uneasy about the building is the fact that all of the door locks are reversed. Whoever installed those locks didn't intend to keep people out, they intended to keep something in.

I was in the front office when I began to hear the thudding. I ignored it and continued to apply masking tape to the door I was working on. But this time, it was accompanied by a screeching sound. Not loud, but audible. I was freaked out, but convinced myself that it was just a pissed off raccoon or squirrel that had found its way inside.

I continued working, until I heard the slam. The door to the secondary office had been open; it sounded like it had violently slammed shut. I peaked around the corner and saw that I was right... the secondary door was now closed. I tried to logic it through in my head that a strong draft had sucked it closed, although I knew there was no such draft. The thudding began again. Close this time. I've never been able to put a proximity on it, but now it sounded like it was right on the other side of the door. I froze, unsure of what was happening. My eyes locked on the door handle, which began to turn. The door disengaged its latch and slowly swung open. Wider...wider...nothing there. Nothing visible, no air movement, just quiet. So quiet. A quiet that seemed to overwhelm me with its presence; a quiet so thick I couldn't breathe. The quiet was shattered when the screech came again. This time, it was clearly human. Pained, angered, and emanating from the main warehouse. The door slammed. That entirely broke my frozen fearful state... I ran.

I got into my car and drove until I was in cell range to call my father. He didn't believe anything about the doors closing, but agreed that the building had something weird about it. He told me he'd be right out. Fast forward half an hour. My dad and I met up and drove back to the warehouse. I showed him the door that slammed, showing him that it was separated from both the front office and the main warehouse, so no draft could have closed it. I told him about the thuds, the screeching, and the sudden quiet that overcame the building. He decided that we should check the main warehouse. Emboldened by his presence, I led the way.

Something you should know about this warehouse: It was formerly a furniture manufacturing place owned by a Mennonite farmer. They made handmade chairs, tables, etc. Because of all the cutting that went on, the floor is thickly coated with dust. We walked into the warehouse and saw nothing out of the ordinary. The dust was untouched, the doors were closed, windows were locked. The only thing out of the ordinary was one of the hanging fluorescent light fixtures. It was hanging askew, and swaying slightly. Insisting we take a look at the mount to ensure it didn't just break loose, my dad grabbed a step ladder. He supported it while I climbed up and grabbed the swinging light.

I looked on top of the light.... and saw a hand-print. A single, fresh, inhumanly large hand-print. No footprints in the dust around the light, no signs of a presence. I climbed down and switched places with my father. He saw it and said, "what the hell? There's been no one in here for years!" He climbed down and told me he'd been suspicious of someone breaking in and stealing parts from the warehouse light system. He couldn't believe me that this wasn't human... that something wasn't right here. The last thing he said was 'nothing is here. Next time, just go back to work.'

And then, as if to show its presence, the thud returned. This time it wasn't just a thud, but more of an earthquake. The entire building felt like it moved. The heartbeat-like thud was then overlaid by the screech. The awful, awful screech. It felt it like was coming from the walls themselves. We ran. We ran and I haven't returned. My father hired someone to finish my job and has since moved into the office. He's heard the thudding, but thus far nothing has happened further. What actually happened? I don't know. Nor do I ever care to know. What I do know is that there is something paranormal in that building and the man who sold it to us knew. I'll never forget the sound of that lock turning by itself or the feeling of the deafening silence.