The Night Shift

Based on a true story

        Punk rock blared in my earbuds. The light flickered as I pushed my broom into the corner of a long hallway, creating a mound of scholastic dust and debris. Having been pulled from my daydream, I turned to see my supervisor standing by the light switch, wearing his grey mustache and a half-grin. My boss, Dave, had come upstairs to send me to the auditorium to clean up after that day's assembly. Cleaning the auditorium wasn't part of my nightly assignments. But fellow janitor Gary had called out, so I was voluntold. 

 

It was the late summer of 2022. I was a 23-year-old college dropout, humbled by the full-time challenge of working the night shift as a middle school janitor. My first week on the job was the school's first week back in session. I found joy and escape in podcasts and music - constantly daydreaming about a more cushy, lavish life. I was lost and stuck in a routine I'd never imagined for myself. 

I sighed, and the auditorium door closed behind me, blocking any distant noise. I plugged in my vacuum, put in my earbuds, and went alone through the expanse of theater seats. The only things on my mind were, "How the hell am I going to finish on time tonight?" and "A steak and cheese costs about $12.99, I think I have $14 in my account." 

Amid the plethora of pamphlets and pencils on the floor, I noticed red droplets. That's when I paused my vacuuming, shoved my earbuds in my pocket, and turned toward the door as I heard it open. I stared momentarily, awaiting another janitor to barge in - but no one showed. A few minutes later, I whipped my head to the left as I saw someone hurry past the stage; I looked around and confirmed that I was still alone. I wrote it off as nervous new-guy energy and left my phone, earbuds, and vacuum on the stage while searching for a supplies closet to tackle the liquid. 

I returned to the auditorium armed with a scrubbing pad and spray. I went through the rows of seats, wiping up every droplet of red liquid I could find until I came upon an inexplicable red puddle the size of a serving tray. Until that moment, I'd deduced that the droplets of red were the result of candy that students had scattered throughout the theater, melted by the summer heat. I knelt and dipped a latex-covered finger in the puddle; I took a whiff - hoping for the smell of sour cherry but braced for the metallic scent of blood. Somehow, the red liquid was odorless and cleaned easily, not leaving stains or sticky residue. 

A tall, trim man stood by the end of the aisle as I rose from where I knelt. Clearly, a fellow janitor or maintenance guy that I hadn't met yet. His pale arms hung still at his sides. He wore a T-shirt and jeans. A ball cap cast a shadow over his eyes, just above narrow cheekbones. He neither moved nor spoke - he just stood and faced me. I stared as motionless as he did. I took a step closer, inching toward him. The notion of a flesh-and-blood man before me faded, and the apparition became translucent. The man dissipated once I reached the aisle's end, and I could see the wall behind him. I stood alone in the auditorium, as I'd been for the last hour. 

It was unsettling, but the building was new and well-lit; I must have been hallucinating - perhaps a symptom of the stress I'd been feeling about life choices and my long-term battle with anxiety. There was no time to unravel; I had 6 hours of work to finish in 4. I shook off the bizarre occurrence and retrieved a mop from the supplies closet. When I returned to the auditorium this time, I walked up and down the rows of seats, but I couldn't find the puddle of red liquid or a single droplet. Considering the task complete, I left the auditorium and cleaned my designated section of the building. 

The rest of the week was business as usual. I told no one about my strange experience. The man's appearance was frighteningly vivid. I pushed it out of my mind and focused on working quickly and diligently - my improved job performance eased my mental health concerns. 

As the days passed, I found that the other janitors were down-to-earth - they enjoyed the free time they got together and took an interest in connecting with me. At the end of my second week, 3 of us janitors sat in the breakroom, chatting about the night shift and how the first couple weeks of school had been. The guys mentioned they got an eerie feeling working alone in the building. Gary said he sometimes sees a sort of 'shadow figure' in his peripheral vision. Career custodian Dylan turned to me and said, "This place is creepy at night, huh?... especially the auditorium. When they began building the school, back in 2010, they started with the auditorium; that's where a guy fell from the roof and died…" My blood ran cold.

Could the older man who'd appeared at the end of the aisle be the man who'd fallen 50 feet to his death? ...Had I heard his spirit coming and going from the auditorium? ...Did I spot him in my peripheral vision before he blatantly appeared? ...Was the strange red liquid the appearance of his blood splatter?