Lot 063 : Night Shift

W equals

L.

Oh, hello, friend.

I've been expecting you.

Your timing couldn't be more impeccable, as I am just about to close up the shop for the day, in fact.

Had an item come in for you earlier from a place that takes on a bit of a life of its own once the doors are locked.

An apron from the old West Market.

It's a bit worse for the wearer, to be quite honest.

But the fact that this is somehow here, and in your hands now, is a

bit of a dark miracle.

What do you say we go to the checkout line for?

I worked as a night guard at a grocery store.

They left a strange set of rules.

Before we begin, I want to point out some of the customers whose names have been etched in brass on this beautiful plaque I have made above the front desk.

These are some of the members of the inner circle of the Antiquarium.

We go by the Obsidian Covenant.

Recent initiates include Falurian Fables, Derek Harrington, Starlight,

Diana Parvaise, Queen Ex Scorpius, Rodney Wilder, Jessamine, Marissa Bruce, and James Verberg.

We are ever appreciative of your devotion to the Order.

Go to theobsidiancovenant.com to receive the sacrament.

Now,

where were we?

Oh, yes.

Welcome to the Antiquarium of Sinister Happenings

and Odd Goings On.

I worked as a night guard at a grocery store.

store.

They left a strange set of rules.

I saw the job listing two weeks ago.

Wanted night guard at West Market in...

Yeah.

12 a.m.

to 6 a.m.

shift.

$21 an hour.

The whole thing struck me as odd, right off the bat.

What kind of grocery store needed a security guard while it was closed?

Was the crime really that bad?

But, you know, I needed the money.

badly.

And two days later, after a phone interview with a man named Clive, I showed up for my first shift.

As soon as I pulled up, I sort of understood why they needed a night guard.

The grocery store sat at the edge of a rundown strip mall.

Large signs reading space for rent hung in the store windows.

But judging by the dusty glass and flickering street lamps, no one had taken them up on that offer in years.

I parked near the front door, and as I approached the building, I saw a woman hurrying away from the store.

You must be Aaron.

The night guard?

That's me.

Clive left you some instructions.

I put them on the uh um conveyor belt at register one.

Oh, thanks.

Be friendly, my inner voice scolded.

She's your new co-worker.

I turned around.

Hey, what's your name?

But she was already diving into the car.

The door slammed, the car peeled out of the parking space, and then she was gone.

So much for a new friend, right?

I turned back to the store.

The parking lot was completely empty now, and the nearest street lamp was flickering with an odd, erratic rhythm.

A cold wind swept in, whipping a crumpled paper bag across the parking lot.

Well,

here goes nothing.

I stepped up to the store.

The glass doors squeaked as they parted for me, and then I stepped inside.

Despite its outward appearance, the store was actually pretty nice inside.

Bright fluorescent lights shone from overhead, jazzy music played from hidden speakers.

I headed over to Register One, where a folded piece of paper was waiting for me.

I flipped it open and began to read.

Dear Aaron, welcome to the Wes family.

We sincerely hope you enjoy your first shift.

To help you, we've compiled a list of rules that should make your shift as easy

as our fresh-baked apple pie.

1.

As night guard, you are expected to patrol the store every half hour, making sure nothing is amiss.

You may spend the rest of your time in the break room at the back of the store monitoring the security camera feeds.

2.

Do not go down aisle 7.

Do not look

down aisle 7.

3.

If you hear a knocking sound coming from within the freezers in the frozen food aisle, ignore it.

4.

If you see a shopping cart that hasn't been put away, please return it to the shopping carts at the front of the store immediately.

5.

Do not be alarmed if you find a pool of blood in the meat aisle.

Sometimes our meat packages leak.

Simply head to the storage closet, get the mop in the bucket, and clean it up.

However, do not step in the puddle or touch it in any way.

6.

If you see a woman in the store, immediately go to the break room and stay there until she leaves.

Do not call the police or report a break-in.

Do not make eye contact with her.

7.

The music we play throughout the store is a pre-recorded disc of instrumental jazz.

If the music ever stops, immediately go to the break room and stay there until it resumes.

8.

Do not, under any circumstances, end your shift early.

Thank you so much.

And again, I hope you enjoy your shift.

Climb.

I stared at the rules, rereading them slowly.

They were so weird.

A woman in the store?

A void aisle 7?

I'd never been given instructions like this, even when I worked as a bouncer at a nightclub in a bad part of town.

Maybe it was a test.

They wanted to see how well I could follow instructions, no matter how absurd they were.

I looked up at the security camera staring down at me from the corner.

Okay.

Challenge accepted.

I glanced at my phone.

12.06.

Might Might as well get my first patrol out of the way now before getting settled in.

It was odd walking through the store when it was so empty and quiet.

All the breads and muffins had been stored away somewhere.

White opaque plastic had been pulled down over the vegetable display.

to keep the cold in.

When I got to the end, I made a right into the meat section.

Sheets of plastic had been pulled over the meat coolers too.

I saw flashes of red through the gaps of massive ribeye and sirloin steaks, big slabs of meat with the bones still intact.

I averted my eyes.

While I wasn't a vegetarian, I never really liked the sight of raw meat.

I turned instead to the aisles.

Aisle 3, pasta and sauces, all lined up on the shelves, glinting in the fluorescent light.

Aisle 4, cookies and snacks.

Aisle 5, aisle 6.

Alright.

I wasn't supposed to look at aisle 7.

I forced myself to look down at the floor.

Yeah, it was stupid, but they told me not to look.

In the off chance they were going to check the CC TV footage later to grade my performance, I was going to follow every rule.

I continued further into the store.

A few minutes later, I found the break room.

It had a nondescript brown door with a little square window cut into it.

I took note of its location for later, as soon as I was done with this patrol, I was going to break out my laptop and finish watching Friday the 13th 4.

And then I was at the west end of the store, the frozen section.

I turned down the aisle, heading back toward the front,

and then I saw it.

A shopping cart parked askew in the middle of the aisle.

I huffed.

Of all the rules, this was the one that annoyed me the most.

I was hired to be a security guard, not a cleanup crew.

Wasn't it the employee's job to put all the carts away at closing time?

Sighing, I began pushing it to the front of the store.

The wheels rolled smoothly underneath me.

The jazz music played softly in my ears.

I turned the corner and walked past the cash register, heading toward the front door.

And that's when I heard it.

A soft sound, barely audible over the jazz music.

I stopped, straining my ears to listen.

Several seconds of silence went by, and then I heard it again.

It sounded like someone crying.

The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end.

There's no one in here.

The door's been locked the whole time.

Unless.

Unless a customer had accidentally stayed past closing time.

Maybe that employee, the woman I'd run into in the parking lot, didn't notice them and locked up before they could get out.

Hey, who's there?

A wailing sob in response.

My heart plummeted.

It sounded like a woman or possibly even a child.

I'm coming!

Where are you?

They didn't reply.

They just kept sobbing.

I frantically continued in the direction of the sound, calling out to them, telling them everything would be okay.

But then I stopped dead.

The sound.

It was coming from Aisle 7.

Do not go down Aisle 7.

Do not look down Aisle 7.

The rules had been very clear about that.

I stopped just short at the aisle next to an end-cap display of mayonnaise and carefully positioned myself so I was hidden.

They finally spoke.

Help me.

Please.

I wanted to step into the aisle.

My foot was already halfway off the floor, ready to run in there and comfort them.

But something stopped me.

A gut instinct, a little alarm bell going off in my head because of all the aisles.

What were the chances this person would be in aisle seven?

And besides, they were safe.

They were in an empty store with me.

It's not like they were in a dark alleyway in the middle of the night.

Please.

Help me.

Come out of the aisle, I called, my voice shaking a little.

Then I'll be able to help you.

This is stupid.

Clearly some person got stuck in here after closing time and they're just scared.

Just go into the aisle and help them get home.

But there was another part of my brain, the instinctual lizard part of my brain, and it was just screaming at me not to move a muscle.

Do you need me to call someone?

Your parents or family?

The police?

Help me.

Come out of the aisle.

The crying stopped.

Just like that.

Violent sobbing, and then in an instant,

nothing.

Like a switch had been flipped.

And then the footsteps started.

Loud, slapping footsteps of someone running down the aisle.

Way too large to be a child.

Coming straight at me.

My heart dropped.

It's a trap.

They're coming for me and I'm probably going to die here.

But as soon as I made it across the aisle, the sound stopped.

All I heard was the soft jazz tunes playing through the speakers overhead.

I hightailed it to the break room, completely forgetting about the cart I was supposed to return.

Ah, yes, the break room.

A small repose sounds good right about now.

Things are getting a bit intense over at the market for our friend Aaron.

While I'm thinking about it, I'm just gonna go finish locking up the back of the shop and we'll resume the festivities momentarily.

Sound good?

Not like you have a choice.

Presenting a marvel of modern science and olfactory delight.

It's the Antiquarium of Sinister Happenings Phantasmagoric Accentuato Machine.

Available now at theantiquarium.myshopify.com.

Ah ah ah.

Do not, I repeat, do not operate unless under the explicit guidance of the antique dealer himself.

For to tinker with it unbidden?

Why, that is almost guaranteed to unleash a curse most abysmal.

Sure to make your remaining days on this mortal coil downright unbearable.

It's all very simple, really.

Upon your visit to the shop to collect the mysterious lot titled Feed the Pig, place the machine on a hard surface at arm's length.

No closer now.

During your journey, the antique dealer will call out numbers one through seven.

When you hear it, scratch the corresponding spot on the card and promptly give it to Snootful.

Presto, you'll inhale the very essence of the story.

From the smoky fog of a haunted alley to the sweet scent of a forbidden bloom, it's an adventure for your sniffer, bringing the thrills and chills right to your own parlor.

Don't wait.

Snag your very own phantasmagoric accentuator machine today.

Make your next experience at the end aquarium a real humdinger.

Ave Domino noctis.

So sorry for the interruption.

Now where were we?

Ah yes.

I believe there is a cleanup on aisle seven.

I hightailed it to the break room, completely forgetting about the cart I was supposed to return.

The break room was small and cramped.

The little square window in the door had been blacked out with construction paper from the inside.

The only light source came from the computer screen on the desk displaying the security camera feeds.

I scrolled through the feeds.

I quickly noticed that none of them offered coverage of aisle 7.

It seemed like the cameras were intentionally placed to avoid that aisle.

After searching the grainy black and white video for anything amiss, I leaned back in the chair and closed my eyes.

When I finally opened them again, it was almost 12.30.

Time for my next patrol.

I didn't want to go.

I felt safe here, locked up in this little room, but I also knew I wouldn't be safe if I didn't listen to the rules.

I shuddered, imagining what would have happened to me if I'd gone down aisle 7,

if I hadn't listened.

I pulled myself out of my seat and headed for the door.

The store was completely silent.

No hysterical sobbing or pounding footsteps.

I started my patrol near the back, walking up aisle 17.

Cans of food glinted on the shelves as I passed, but when I glanced at them, I didn't see any labels I recognized.

No chef ravioli or giant green man, man, just generically labeled cans of meat stew.

In fact, all the aisle had was meat stew.

The same cans over and over and over again.

I reached the end and turned right towards the front of the store.

And that's when I realized that I had already broken one of the rules.

The cart.

I hadn't returned it.

It wasn't where I left it.

Instead of haphazardly parked near aisle 7, it sat next to one of the cash registers, like some ghost man was checking out his groceries.

I paused for a second, hands hovering over the handle.

Then I grabbed it and headed towards the door.

Outside, the parking lot was pitch black.

Not a single street lamp.

The shopping carts are only a few feet from the door, I told myself.

Just go in and out.

It'll take two seconds.

But then then I stopped.

The silence.

Oh no.

The jazz music wasn't playing.

How long had it been off?

I'd been so preoccupied with returning the cart, I wasn't even paying attention.

I broke into a sprint towards the back of the store, cookies and snacks flashing by me.

Then I swerved right and sprinted into the break room.

I pulled out the list of rules and read them over again.

Do not, under any circumstances, end your shift early.

early.

Why did he write that?

Was it just because he didn't want anyone flaking out on him?

Or if I left early, would...

Would some horrible fate befall me?

Because I really,

really wanted to leave.

I opened up my backpack, pulled out the soda I'd brought, and popped it open.

I took a sip, scrolled through the security feed.

Five more hours.

The next four patrols went fairly well.

The rules didn't say how long they had to be, so every 30 minutes I sprinted a lap around the store as fast as I could.

The whole thing only took about a minute.

Then for the other 29, I locked myself in the break room.

On the second patrol, I heard knocking as I ran down the freezer aisle.

It started as light tapping across the glass, then crescendoed into loud thumps.

As per the rules, I ignored it.

I just kept running until I made it back to the break room.

On the last patrol, the music had cut out again.

So I quickly detoured and got to the break room as quickly as I could, the silence ringing in my ears.

And now I was in the break room with three hours left.

I stared at my phone's clock, ticking slowly towards 3 a.m.

I stood up, shaking out my nervous energy, preparing myself to sprint.

I'd been a runner back in high school, but in the past 10 years, I'd gotten way out of shape.

The last patrol had left me panting and breathless, legs aching.

My hands closed around the doorknob.

My heart hammered in my chest.

Three,

two,

one,

go.

I wrenched the door open and shot out into the storm.

But I didn't get very far because there was an enormous pool of blood on the floor.

I froze.

All the air sucked out of my lungs.

I stared at the blood shining in the fluorescent lights.

The rules said to clean it up.

But that would take at least 10 minutes.

I wasn't safe out here.

I swallowed.

Then I hurried to the supply closet, got a mop and a bucket, and started cleaning as fast as I could.

The job was messy.

I slid the mop through the blood, then dunked it into the bucket, rinsed, and repeated.

The soapy water tinged red.

A few times it splashed up and almost landed on me.

But I did it.

I cleaned it all up without touching a drop.

Unfortunately, by the time I was finished, it was 3.27.

Time for my next patrol.

I was too tired to run, so I settled for a brisk walk around the store.

I headed up through the frozen food.

I noticed now there were handprints on the glass doors.

Handprints of all sizes, tilted and smudged.

Except the proportions looked all wrong.

With fingers that were too long, too thin.

I averted my eyes and have gone

two and a half more hours.

Sighing, I continued toward the produce section, briskly walking past the aisles.

Then I stopped.

Something caught my eye in one of the aisles.

I backed up and took a better look.

Someone was standing in aisle 9.

A woman.

She wore a blue linen dress and black high heels.

Long black hair cascaded down her back almost to her waist.

She faced away from me, standing still, her thin white arms hanging limply at her side.

In her hand was a basket filled with cuts of raw meat.

The rule echoed in my head.

If you see a woman in the store, immediately go back to the break room.

Do not make eye contact with her.

I slowly backed up as quietly as I possibly could.

Then I started down the next aisle toward the break room.

I heard her footsteps echoing against the tile.

I hurried my pace towards the break room, but then I stopped.

Her footsteps weren't coming from behind me.

They were coming...

from in front of me.

I averted my eyes to the floor just as I saw two black high-heeled shoes step into the aisle.

I stared at the floor.

Do not make eye contact with her.

Do not make eye contact with her.

The words repeated over and over in my head, but I had to get back to the break room and she was standing in my way.

All I could see were her shiny high-heeled shoes and the little drops of blood that leaked out of the meat packages in her basket, staining the floor.

I backed up.

That was the only way I could go.

I kept my eyes on the floor, careful not to look up.

But she was following me.

For every step I took, I saw a shiny black heel come into view, attached to a thin white calf, keeping time with me.

I wheeled around and broke into a sprint.

I ran down an aisle at random, sprinted towards the break room, but then, halfway down the aisle, I stopped.

A shopping cart was parked across the middle of the aisle, blocking my way.

Not just one cart, several of them stacked up in a teetering tower that was nearly as tall as the aisles themselves.

I was trapped.

I backed away, my heart pounding.

Slow, methodical footsteps coming toward me, slowly like a cat stalking its prey.

I took my chances.

I turned around, sprinted back out into the open, and stepped into the next aisle.

Oh no, no.

I knew it instantly.

A tattered lump of gray clothing and sickly, pale blue skin sat on the floor.

The person, the creature, the thing, folded in on itself in a posed reminiscent of a crying child.

But it obviously wasn't anything resembling a human, with its strange lumps and appendages and complete lack of a head.

I'd stepped into aisle seven.

I immediately reversed direction, but not before the thing unfolded itself and began to move towards me.

I whipped around and screaming sprinted down the next aisle.

Miraculously, I made it to the end in one piece.

I veered sharply left toward the break room.

Almost there, almost there.

My hand hit the doorknob.

I wrenched it open and dove inside.

And then I collapsed into the chair, panting.

I sucked in a breath, staring at the locked door.

Am I really safe in here?

And technically, the rules never said I would be safe.

Maybe staying in here only decreased my chances of death.

I turned my attention to the security camera feed on the monitor.

It showed the middle of the store, and from what I could see, the aisles were empty.

No trace of the woman.

I switched to the next feed.

The produce section.

Empty.

I switched to the next one.

I jumped.

She was standing right there.

In front of the break room door.

She stood so still.

The image, it could have been a photograph, except for the blood slowly dripping from the meat in her basket.

I swallowed and glanced away from the monitor at the door.

My heart slammed into my ribs when I saw her shadow under the door.

Go away.

Please, go away.

Please, just go away.

Go away, I pleaded in my mind.

The shadow of her head in the window tilted, as if contemplating her next move.

Now I knew why the window had been covered.

I forced my eyes away and looked back at the screen.

She was standing there, except there was...

Something...

different about the way she was standing.

I squinted at the grainy black and white image, trying to figure out what was going on.

When my eyes finally fell on her heels, I realized

they were facing forward.

But I was still looking at the back of her head, at the long black hair cascading to her waist.

Either her hair was hanging over her face, Or she turned her head all the way around.

It must have been 20 minutes before she began to walk away from the door.

I couldn't tell if it was just the low frame rate of the crummy cameras, but her movements looked jerky, her body lurching with each step.

It made me sick to watch.

When she disappeared from the screen, I let out a sigh of relief.

My hands and legs were shaking, weak.

Okay.

Okay, thank you.

The rules said to wait until she left.

All I had to do was watch the feed by the front of the door.

As soon as I saw her leave the store, I'd be safe.

After a few minutes of sitting there waiting for my heart rate to return to normal, I forced my fingers back to the keyboard.

I pressed the arrow key to move to the next feed, then the next and the next, looking for the camera at the front of the store.

No.

Her face.

Her face filled the entire screen.

Her eyes filled me with horror.

They They were pure white, no pupils, no irises, just pure white eyes threaded with spidery veins.

I screamed and jumped back.

Then I shut my eyes.

The rule said don't make eye contact.

Did that count?

Through the screen?

I let out a terrified, shuddering wail and covered my eyes with my hands, my entire body shaking.

When I took a peek through my fingers, I saw her.

Rapidly scaling down the wall away from the camera on the ceiling, like some kind of spider.

Then Then she passed through the glass doors and disappeared into the night.

She'd left.

I was safe.

Or as safe as I could be in this cursed grocery store.

I glanced at the clock.

3.58 a.m.

Time to patrol.

I really didn't want to.

But I forced myself to swing the door open and run as fast as I could through the store.

I saw shopping carts stacked in teetering towers, heard hands pound against freezer doors, saw little spots of blood on the shiny tile from the woman as she had stalked me.

And then a minute later, I was done.

I locked myself in the break room, and for the first time in years,

I began to sob.

The remaining patrols went by without incident.

Though I did hear more sobbing from aisle 7 and more banging from the freezers.

And then

the hour had come.

6 a.m.

My heart soared at the sight of the pink dawn sky through the glass doors.

I was safe.

I was free.

When I glanced out into the parking lot, I saw a few cars pulling in, disgruntled, groggy employees clutching coffees heading towards me.

As soon as the first one came in, I flew out the store, ran to my car, and got out of there as fast as I could.

I'd never felt such relief, such happiness.

I felt like a new man.

All of my problems, even the financial ones, seemed dwarfed by what I had just endured.

When I pulled onto the main road, I rolled down my windows and flicked on the radio.

But it wasn't my usual classic rock station that blared through the speakers.

Instead,

And as I listened to that horrible looping melody,

I realized that my days as a night guard for West Market

may not be over yet.

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Thank you for your patronage.

Hope you enjoyed your new relic as much as I've enjoyed passing along its sordid history.

It does come with our usual warning, however.

Absolutely no refunds.

No exchanges, and we won't be held liable for anything that may or may not occur while the object is in your possession.

If you've got an artifact with mysterious properties, perhaps it's accompanied by a history of bizarre and disturbing circumstances, maybe you'd be interested in dropping it and its story by the shop to share with other customers.

Please reach out to antiquariumshop at gmail.com.

A member of our team will in touch.

Till next time, we'll be waiting for you whenever you close your eyes

in the space between sleep and dream.

During regular business hours, of course, or by appointment, only for you,

our

best customer.

You have a good night now.

The Antiquarium of Sinister Happenings.

Lot 063.

I'm a night guard at a grocery store.

They gave me a strange set of rules.

Written by Blair Daniels.

Starring Jeffrey Allen Sneed as Aaron.

Romy Evans as the assistant.

Mark Redfield as Clive.

Jade Shand as the girl, featuring Stephen Knowles as the antique dealer.

Engineering production and sound design by Trevor Shand.

Theme music by the Newton Brothers.

Additional music by Coag and Vivek Abishek.

Additional sound effects by Laura Sloyd.

The Antiquarium of Sinister Happenings is created and curated by Trevor and Lauren Shand.

Follow us on Instagram and Twitter at Antiquarium Pod.

Call the Antiquarium at 646-481-7197.

The Toxic Avenger is out now.

Experience the long-awaited, totally unrated monster mayhem exclusively in theaters.

Get tickets now at tickets.toxicavenger.com.

Hello and welcome to the world of Scare You to Sleep.

I'm your host, Shelby Novak, a show for those of us who need something a little stronger than counting sheep, who find horror to be a strangely relaxing escape.

Here you'll find a myriad of fright-filled tales, from fictional to true stories, to high strangeness to guided nightmares, where I take you on a journey through your own personal nightmare.

So come get lost in the terror with me.

Listen to Scare You to Sleep, wherever you listen to podcasts.

Sweet screams.