I was sent to work as a night guard at this old warehouse. The second I saw the place, I had a bad feeling. It was huge, empty, and falling apart. Five floors, a basement, a rooftop, plus the outside yard where some old train tracks ran into a dead end. My boss gave me a quick rundown, but honestly, nothing could prepare me for how that building felt at night.
On my first night, I had to patrol floors two through five and the rooftop. The moment I walked in, I felt like I was being watched. It wasn’t just nerves either — every time I stopped, I thought someone was walking right behind me. I’d turn around, and of course no one was there.
The second floor was the creepiest. One side looked like some abandoned hospital ward. The other half was different, like it belonged to another building entirely. The higher up I went, the worse it felt. The fifth floor was pitch black and I hated being up there. I could hear faint voices, like whispers. I almost never went inside.
Then there was the sadness. This part I can’t explain. While on shift, I would just start crying. Not like a little tear, but full-on sobbing as if I had just lost someone. My parents were fine, but I felt like I had lost them forever. I even called my sister one night just to make sure they were okay. Weird thing is, she told me she had started crying for no reason right before I called her.
By the third night, things really picked up. I heard footsteps, loud ones, clear as day. I felt watched the whole time, and I couldn’t shake the idea that something didn’t want me to leave. Almost like it wanted me there.
A new guard came to work with me, and we switched patrols sometimes. He did the upstairs once and asked me later, “Hey, when I was up there, were you walking around?” I told him no, and he said he kept hearing footsteps and voices but couldn’t find anyone. I didn’t tell him what I’d been experiencing because I didn’t want to freak him out.
On my last night, I was sitting in this small break room when the footsteps started again. I closed the door and recorded the sounds on my phone. In the recording, you can hear me saying “again,” and right after, there are more footsteps. Like something was actually answering me.
When me and the other guard were about to leave, the window next to us started shaking. Not like a little rattle, it was violent. We both just froze and stared. No one was outside, no one hit it, and yet it moved like something was trying to get in. We laughed it off, but deep down we knew it wasn’t normal.
That was enough for me. I quit right after. This happened in late March, and I still think about it a lot. I drive by that warehouse sometimes, and even from the street it gives me the worst vibes. I honestly believe if I’d stayed longer, something would have followed me home.
I tried looking up the history of the building, but nothing comes up. No deaths, no accidents, nothing. Still, I can’t shake the feeling that a child and an adult died there. The reason I say that is because I kept hearing small footsteps, like a kid running, and heavier ones like an adult. Sometimes both at the same time. It felt like a father and son. If that’s true, may they rest in peace.
But I’ll never step foot in that warehouse again.