I grew up in a relatively small town just outside the suburbs of Chicago. The neighborhood was pretty nice, and I often look back on those times fondly. Sometimes I drive through the neighborhood for a little nostalgic trip when I’m feeling down, and it never ceases to bring me joy whenever I see a little kid running along the very same sidewalk I used to scooter down.
One of the things me and my buddies loved doing during that tranquil time of our lives was walking to the nearby convenience store to load up on snacks. It was a little ways from our house, though, so our parents weren’t too keen on us going, but we often did anyway just for the hell of it. Strangely, we never got caught. Some of my fondest memories with my buddies happened outside that very store.
Recently, however, the store closed down due to a lack of customers. It made sense, seeing as how the neighborhood itself was starting to lower in popularity. The store had also only ever been run by one man, Mr. Eisen. Mr. Eisen was a jolly old man. He treated all his customers with respect, and he sometimes got away with giving us free snacks and drinks when business was good and he could afford to do so. It broke my heart to learn that he also recently passed away, which made the closing of the store all the more depressing.
Not long after the store’s closure, one of the more daring members of my friend group (who we’ll call John) called me. John was a big horror guy. He loved watching documentaries and TV shows about stuff like ghost hunting or playing really old horror games. He wanted to do a late-night camping trip at the store the following night (the building itself hadn’t been rented out or gutted by this point). At first I was hesitant, seeing as how I’m not exactly the type to break into restricted areas, but alas, John convinced me, and he prepared a list of things I might need: food, water, sleeping bags, the usual. Luckily one of my coworkers offered to cover my night shift, so I didn’t miss any work, but looking back, I wish I had taken that shift.
As I packed the following afternoon, I received a text from John asking to bring candles. He had seen a new type of ghost-summoning ritual, and he wanted to try it, but he didn’t have candles. I agreed, but only because I didn’t really believe in any of this ghost bologna. I didn’t expect anything to come of it, so I packed a couple of wax candles in some plastic bags and headed over.
I arrived at the abandoned store at around 9pm, just after most of the cars got off of the road. John was already inside, and he motioned me in. As I looked around, I got a weird shudder– I assumed that being in the store while it looked like this was a kind of liminal experience. The memories definitely came flooding back, but it made me uneasy rather than nostalgic.
John eventually turned to me and asked for my candles. I reached into my bag and handed them to him, to which he promptly placed them in a triangular shape and lit them one by one. He then turned to me and handed me some kind of monitoring device, and told me to tell him if it started beeping. So I did, and I watched. He began circling the triangle in salt from a bag, then said some kind of gibberish in another language. I wonder if he knows he looks like an idiot right now, I wondered.
Suddenly, the monitor started to beep. I looked over to John and told him it was beeping, but he didn’t move a muscle. He just froze, not a single peep out of him. I figured he didn’t hear me, so I went and shook his shoulder. “Hey,” I said. “It’s beeping, dude.” No movement. I went around to look at his face. He was stuck in a ghost-cold expression of fear, like he had seen some heinous crime be committed right in front of him.
Suddenly, the lights of the store flickered on, and John fell to the floor. Catching him in midair, I attempted to shake him awake, but he was out cold…literally. His skin was ice cold, almost like he was dead, but his chest still moved up and down. I laid him on the ground and pulled out the hunting knife I had brought. I had originally brought it for carving something into the wall to leave one final mark on this place, but unfortunately it was now a self-defense weapon.
Walking over to the breaker, I noticed that the master switch was off. I didn’t know if there was a second breaker or if the store was somehow getting power from some secondary backup generator, but regardless, I flipped it on. This promptly turned the lights off, and I kept it that way so as to avoid the police showing up to a fully lit, abandoned store with two random teenagers in it.
I went and picked up John’s things, and then picked up John. I was about to walk out of the store when I heard a click from the back. Dropping John, I pulled my knife and yelled into the pitch-black. “Who’s there?!” I yelled, receiving no response. At this point I was genuinely creeped out. I stowed my knife and picked up John, and went to push open the door.
The door was locked.
From the outside.
“Oh, fuck you,” I compained to no one. Looking around I spotted an emergency crowbar in a glass case labeled “EMERGENCIES ONLY” in bright, red text. Breaking the glass, I picked it up and attempted to break one of the windows. I swung as hard as I could, but the glass would not break. We were stuck inside.
I thought about calling the police, but I didn’t want to have to explain to them why we were there, so I decided against it. I placed the crowbar on the ground along with John, and sat down next to the door.
After about five minutes, John woke up in a panic. “We need to get out of here, now!” He screamed, pushing at the door. When he eventually looked down and saw me not helping him I assumed he had realized the door wasn’t going to open.
“What’s the rush, Mr. Brave and Bold?” I scoffed. “Too scared of a little dark?”
“You don’t understand,” he said. “If we don’t get out, he’s going to-”
Suddenly, a loud crash came from the back of the store. I grabbed the crowbar and handed it to John. “Freeman it up, smartass. You have the point.” He gulped, and we both walked towards the sound.
As we walked by, I noticed some of the items in the store had been moved. Cups were in the toy aisle, notebooks were in refrigerators– it was a very strange detail, considering I didn’t remember when they had moved.
Suddenly, John screamed and dropped the crowbar, darting for the door. I turned towards him, then towards where he had been looking, and I realized why he had run. Standing there was a tall figure, with pure white eyes and a smile wider than my own hand. It stared down at me for a second or two, before reaching down and picking me up with a long, black tentacle.
I took out my knife and stabbed the tentacle, setting me free, and ran. I ran after John, trying to keep up. Luckily, the force of John slamming into the glass window seemed to finally bust it, and he rolled out into the parking lot. I followed suit, and as we both got into my car, the figure began hovering towards us, a loud, ear-piercing screech along with it. The second my car started, I floored the gas and swerved out of the parking lot into the street. We didn’t care if the cops caught us anymore. We just needed to run.
We drove at top speed for about 20 minutes before pulling to a curb. I slumped back into my seat, and John did the same. “What the FUCK was that, John?” I screamed. “You could’ve had us KILLED!”
He turned to look at me, and then started to cry. “Fuck, man…” he said, slumping further into his chair. I sat up straight and sighed, staring at the road.
Then, a tap on my window.
“Come on back, boys. We haven’t even had a proper conversation.”
I turned slowly to look. It had the voice of Mr. Eisen, but the figure was anything but. I finally got a glimpse of it in the short second my nerves were nulled out from the adrenaline.
It was a tall figure, no doubt. It stood on two slender legs stretching higher than my car. Its torso and head were made entirely from what looked like rotten meat, and its face was the same; its eyes pierced into my soul, and its smile shook me to my very core.
I slammed on the gas, flying away at breakneck speeds. The figure did not move, only stared off at us as we flew off into the darkness. I made several sharp turns and eventually got onto a highway. It was then I realized John had passed out, and I started towards the nearest emergency room.
It’s been about two or three weeks since that night. The police never caught us (thank GOD, that fact most likely saved their lives) and John ended up having a severe memory loss of the whole event…he’s back to his old self now. But something about that neighborhood makes me not want to go back to it at night.
Not now that I know something’s lurking there.