Chapter 1: The New Night Shift
James Carter never believed in ghosts. As a medical examiner, he had spent years working with the dead, and to him, a body was just an empty vessel—nothing more. So when he was offered the night shift at St. Augustine Morgue, he took it without hesitation.
The morgue was old, its walls yellowed with time, the scent of antiseptic barely masking something more decayed. It had been abandoned for a few years before being reopened, and rumors swirled about what had happened to the last night shift worker. James ignored the whispers, believing them to be exaggerated ghost stories.
His first night was uneventful. A few autopsies, some paperwork, and the occasional hum of the refrigeration units. But as the clock neared 3 AM, the temperature in the room dropped suddenly. The fluorescent lights flickered, and for the first time, James felt uneasy.
Then came the knocking.
Chapter 2: The Unseen Guests
At first, it was soft, barely noticeable—a slow tap-tap-tap coming from one of the metal drawers that housed the corpses. James turned sharply, scanning the room. All the drawers were sealed shut. He dismissed it as an old ventilation system creaking.
But then, the knocking grew louder. Insistent.
He hesitated before stepping toward the source of the sound. It was drawer #12. His hands were cold as he gripped the handle. With a deep breath, he yanked it open.
Empty.
A chill ran down his spine. He slammed the drawer shut, shaking his head. "Fatigue," he muttered. "That’s all."
But as he turned back to his desk, he saw something that made his heart stop.
The footprints. Wet, bare footprints, leading from the drawer to where he stood.
Chapter 3: The Forgotten Dead
James spent the next day researching St. Augustine Morgue. The history was darker than he had expected. In the 1960s, the morgue had been a hospital wing during a severe flu outbreak. Overwhelmed, doctors had left bodies in the basement, forgotten for weeks. Some patients had been declared dead prematurely, their desperate scratches found on the inside of their drawers.
That night, the whispers began.
As he performed an autopsy, he heard them—low voices murmuring just beneath the hum of the refrigeration units. He turned quickly, but the room was empty.
Then, one of the body bags moved.
James froze as the zipper slid down on its own. The cadaver inside—a middle-aged man—had its eyes open. Wide. Watching.
The morgue door slammed shut.
Chapter 4: The Possession
James tried to leave, but his body wouldn’t move. The air turned thick, suffocating, as if invisible hands pressed against his chest. The whispers grew louder, overlapping, desperate and accusing.
"You left us... You let us die..."
The room blurred. The cold metal of the examination table burned against his skin. In the reflection of the glass cabinets, he saw them—dozens of shadowy figures standing behind him. Their hollow eyes stared, mouths moving in silent screams.
He squeezed his eyes shut. "This isn’t real," he chanted. "This isn’t real."
But then, something grabbed his wrist.
Chapter 5: The Escape
James woke up in the hospital. They told him he had been found unconscious in the morgue, his body ice-cold, his heartbeat dangerously slow. When they asked what happened, he said nothing. Who would believe him?
He quit his job the next day.
St. Augustine Morgue remains operational, but no one stays past midnight. The new night shift workers report strange occurrences—knocking drawers, phantom whispers, and the occasional wet footprints leading nowhere.
Some say the ghosts are searching for justice.
Others say they just want out.
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February 27, 2025
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Horror stories
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