For context, I live in a fairly small town in the north of England. Most of our department stores either shut down or are prohibitively expensive, so it was… strange to encounter one that had just been founded a few months prior.
Naturally, it all seemed benign enough. I mean, it’s a department store opening at a weird time is all.
My first shift was a night shift. They wanted me down in the stockrooms to clean out all the shit that isn’t in season, all the dust that gathers and set out the new mannequins at their displays. I was due to work from 8pm through until 2am - it would make getting home difficult, sure, but the rate of pay was super competitive so I figured I could probably afford taxis if I wanted to carry on with it.
So my shift starts, I clock in and the place is dead silent. The store had only closed about half an hour prior so typically you’d expect some hustle as folks tried to finish up their closes, check inventory for the next day, y’know? But there was nobody there. Just me and the mannequins.
I don’t know if you have ever felt a sense that you were somewhere you shouldn’t have been. That creeping sense of something deeply wrong, that tingle in the small of your back and that nervous apprehension with every step forward - like every neurone in your brain is screaming at you to turn and run, to get out before you see something you weren’t meant to.
But, regardless, I was getting paid for this. Hell, it couldn’t be anything suspicious - it was the JobCentre that referred me here and they’re only going to give you stuff that’s above board.
The lift to the lower floors was old - really old. Like, fold-out grate door levels of old, hear the cables creak as the car shifts up and down the lift shaft old. Was this in line with safety codes? When was this place fucking built?
Just as I was beginning to question it all, I heard the bell ring. Steeling myself, I stepped forward. The place was a fucking shambles - mannequins everywhere, no sign of stock for the clothing department or the food hall, and cobwebs occupying damn near every crevice of the place. On the wall, the only clean thing in the room was a plaque, listing a set of rules.
Rule 1: Clock in at exactly 8pm. Clock out at exactly 2am. Rule 2: Leave lights on in rooms you are not occupying at all times. Rule 3: The security cameras are not ours. Avoid them. Rule 4: If you hear movement, leave the room. Do not investigate. Do not turn around.
What the fuck had I signed up for? Was this their idea of a fucking prank?
Next to the plaque was a dustpan and brush. With a sigh, I picked it up and began working.
First, I dusted off the floor. All seemed well enough. Then, I began to arrange the seemingly disorganised mannequins. I began to try and get rid of the webs when I heard it.
A whisper, but loud enough to echo through the whole complex:
“Look at me.”
Immediately, I felt my body begin to freeze up. Quickly, and near-silently, I progressed through a door into the next room. I checked my phone - 12am. Another two fucking hours.
I continued to work, despite my nerves. My workflow was the same - sweep, tidy, cobwebs. Simple.
Then I remembered. The light. I had forgotten the light.
Taking a deep breath to settle my nerves, I walked back through the other room - making sure to turn the lights on as I left. As I looked around, I began to process something. The room was in a worse state than when I had first entered.
EDIT: this whole situation has me fucked in terms of sleep, fixed a typo in one of the rules