I don’t know if this is the right place for this, but I need to put these stories out there just so people have a record of what was going on here in case something ever does happen to me. I work as a sleep analyst at a specialist clinic located in a place I don’t feel safe enough to disclose. My job is essentially to watch people whilst they are sleeping and determine the cause of their insomnia, sleep apnea, usually quite run of the mill problems. Doctors refer their patients to us before they hand them medication so they can have a more thorough idea of their issues.
By and large, my job is okay. It pays well. Whilst in most places in the country, sleep analysts aren’t required to watch live footage of the patients, our clinic requires sleep analysts to do this as part of policy and patients always have to stay overnight for the analysis to be completed correctly. This would be all right, if things didn’t get specifically strange around here at night.
***
- When I first started working here, I got assigned a lot of the midnight shifts. I’m pretty nocturnal, so I didn’t mind this at all. Mostly I used to sit in the observation room and watch the screen and when it seemed like the person was in deep sleep, I’d just listen to their breathing patterns for changes whilst reading a book. When I’d get up to go to the toilet though, an uneasy feeling would settle in my gut. It always felt as though someone was watching me in that long corridor between the observation room and the bathroom. I kept writing it off as nerves until I started seeing something in the corner of my eye that would disappear the moment I would look at it. It was like the shadow of a person but there was no shadow.I mentioned it to one of my co-workers when I was handing over the next shift to him and he just got really uneasy and said not to acknowledge it.
When I pushed him further, he dropped his voice to a whisper and said “It gets really angry when you talk about it.” He refused to say anymore. A week later, he quit and I never saw him again. No one really talks about him anymore. It’s almost like he never existed.
I think his name was Daniel, but I can’t be sure.
***
- Every few months, and for no reason, all of the patients sit up in bed at once. Their eyes are wide open and they are staring at something in the right hand corner of the room, mouthing words but don't actually make a sound. It looks like they're talking to someone, but they can't be because nothing is in there with them. The first time I saw this, I panicked and called my boss and was really surprised to hear her say, groggily as she only worked during the day, “Just erase that part of the video when it’s over.”I tried to protest, “But-”“Just do it.” She snapped, “And don’t wake them up or mention it to them in the morning.”
My colleagues say they are sleep talking – but I’ve never seen sleep talking like that. As a collective in different, secluded rooms with eyes so wide open that they look like they’re bulging in fear. I tried reporting it to my boss’s boss but got no response.My boss must have heard about it though because she gave me a verbal warning for disobeying her and going behind her back.
***
- One time at around three in the morning on a Wednesday, we started hearing hammering and scratching on the clinic’s door, a weird wailing shriek joining it. Every time one of the three of us would answer, that is me, the security guard or the sleep tech, there would be no one there. Sure, it could be some kids playing a prank but the clinic was located close to a secluded forest, the nearest town was miles and miles away. You would have to get to us by car and there were limited parking areas around here. We didn’t see a car in any of them, and we went out with flashlights to look twice. We all thought it was maybe the wind as it was a particularly windy night and just let it go. It carried on till early morning and when we got ready to hand over the shift, our colleagues Sally and James came in looking perplexed. Instead of answering us, they just told us to go and see what had happened to the front door.
It looked like someone – or something had been trying its damnedest to get in.
There were bloody scratches all the way down the thick wood. Scratches that looked far too wide for any bear or wolf or any kind of wild animal. And scratches that certainly didn’t look human.
***
- We keep cats in the clinic to soothe people. We have five of them and generally let anxious patients stroke them to soothe themselves before they sleep. These cats have been raised from an early age to cope well with strangers, be calm and generally are very friendly in nature. Sammy, the cuddly little tabby is the friendliest and a favourite amongst everyone. Recently he’s been hissing more frequently though but only at certain patients and refuses to go near them. Strangely, those people are always the ones who complain of night terrors, the kind where they accidentally scratch or bruise themselves.
I’m sure it’s just a coincidence but it’s weird how he always knows.
***
- This last one (for now) is about what I found in one of the rooms no staff other than the bosses are allowed access to. The clinic isn’t a new build, it used to be a hospital once upon a time before it fell into disuse and disrepair after the owners died, their kin didn’t really take an interest in running it and people started going to the newer, swankier hospitals that were built in their own towns. It’s at least a couple of hundred years old and even though it’s been renovated and looks brand new, there are certain parts of the building we just aren’t allowed to go into because they’re still being done up.
They’re labelled private, and have “authorized access only” across the front. A few days ago, I had lost my way trying to find the new staff room they had just renovated for us and found myself in an older, carpeted corridor staring at stairs that led up to a red door, which was ajar, light pouring out from inside. Thinking this was the staffroom, I took the stairs two at a time, wanting to get out of the dark, slightly musty corridor and make a fresh pot of coffee.
When I pushed open the door, I found a single armchair in the centre of the room, wooden floors and a massive floor to ceiling window behind it.
The light came from a crystal chandelier, this whole room looked like time had forgotten it, it was so different to the clinic which was all white and medical and still smelled of fresh pain. It was also slightly creepy how there was no other furniture in here. Just a single, red and gold ornate armchair. A pile of black files lay on top, the first one open. My curiosity got the better of me. I picked the open file up and began to read. And paled almost immediately. Across the front of the file, it stated clearly “deceased” as of today, but I had never heard of this patient before.
His name was Charles Islington. He was part of a experiment on night twitches, the thing that happens to you when your whole body jerks and no one really knows why. I hadn’t even known we were conducting something like that here and all the staff were supposed to have equal knowledge of everything happening within the clinic. I got as far as reading “patient appears to be convulsing after second induced jerk” when I heard a soft, scraping sound behind me. My heart stopped and I dropped the file, slowly turning around. There was nothing there. Suddenly the chandelier began to flicker, and I swear to God, I saw something…something move in between the flickering, edging closer to me. It looked like a figure, but I couldn’t make out its face, all I know is that it was reaching for me and it wasn’t a human hand, it couldn’t be. It was too twisted and gnarled and pale and the fingernails just weren’t right but I couldn’t even tell if that was what I was seeing my eyes were so effected by the light.Instead, I ran, almost blinded by the flickering in the direction of the door.
I kept running, down the stairs until I reached the corridor to the observation room and then walked to the observation room and shut the door, locking it for good measure. The rest of the night passed uneventfully but I took the next night off because I’m still slightly shaken.
I live alone in an apartment in a busy neighbourhood in a town about 30 miles away from the clinic and usually I feel really safe here. My little studio has always been my refuge and coming home has been a welcome respite.
Ever since that night though, I feel like something has been watching me. Like something angry has followed me back from the clinic. I can see it shift and move slowly, carefully. Like it is waiting to devour me. It thinks I haven't seen it yet, and I think that is what is keeping me safe. But I know it's there.
It's watching me right now as I type this.
Waiting.
In the corner of my eye.
---
Credit
By and large, my job is okay. It pays well. Whilst in most places in the country, sleep analysts aren’t required to watch live footage of the patients, our clinic requires sleep analysts to do this as part of policy and patients always have to stay overnight for the analysis to be completed correctly. This would be all right, if things didn’t get specifically strange around here at night.
***
- When I first started working here, I got assigned a lot of the midnight shifts. I’m pretty nocturnal, so I didn’t mind this at all. Mostly I used to sit in the observation room and watch the screen and when it seemed like the person was in deep sleep, I’d just listen to their breathing patterns for changes whilst reading a book. When I’d get up to go to the toilet though, an uneasy feeling would settle in my gut. It always felt as though someone was watching me in that long corridor between the observation room and the bathroom. I kept writing it off as nerves until I started seeing something in the corner of my eye that would disappear the moment I would look at it. It was like the shadow of a person but there was no shadow.I mentioned it to one of my co-workers when I was handing over the next shift to him and he just got really uneasy and said not to acknowledge it.
When I pushed him further, he dropped his voice to a whisper and said “It gets really angry when you talk about it.” He refused to say anymore. A week later, he quit and I never saw him again. No one really talks about him anymore. It’s almost like he never existed.
I think his name was Daniel, but I can’t be sure.
***
- Every few months, and for no reason, all of the patients sit up in bed at once. Their eyes are wide open and they are staring at something in the right hand corner of the room, mouthing words but don't actually make a sound. It looks like they're talking to someone, but they can't be because nothing is in there with them. The first time I saw this, I panicked and called my boss and was really surprised to hear her say, groggily as she only worked during the day, “Just erase that part of the video when it’s over.”I tried to protest, “But-”“Just do it.” She snapped, “And don’t wake them up or mention it to them in the morning.”
My colleagues say they are sleep talking – but I’ve never seen sleep talking like that. As a collective in different, secluded rooms with eyes so wide open that they look like they’re bulging in fear. I tried reporting it to my boss’s boss but got no response.My boss must have heard about it though because she gave me a verbal warning for disobeying her and going behind her back.
***
- One time at around three in the morning on a Wednesday, we started hearing hammering and scratching on the clinic’s door, a weird wailing shriek joining it. Every time one of the three of us would answer, that is me, the security guard or the sleep tech, there would be no one there. Sure, it could be some kids playing a prank but the clinic was located close to a secluded forest, the nearest town was miles and miles away. You would have to get to us by car and there were limited parking areas around here. We didn’t see a car in any of them, and we went out with flashlights to look twice. We all thought it was maybe the wind as it was a particularly windy night and just let it go. It carried on till early morning and when we got ready to hand over the shift, our colleagues Sally and James came in looking perplexed. Instead of answering us, they just told us to go and see what had happened to the front door.
It looked like someone – or something had been trying its damnedest to get in.
There were bloody scratches all the way down the thick wood. Scratches that looked far too wide for any bear or wolf or any kind of wild animal. And scratches that certainly didn’t look human.
***
- We keep cats in the clinic to soothe people. We have five of them and generally let anxious patients stroke them to soothe themselves before they sleep. These cats have been raised from an early age to cope well with strangers, be calm and generally are very friendly in nature. Sammy, the cuddly little tabby is the friendliest and a favourite amongst everyone. Recently he’s been hissing more frequently though but only at certain patients and refuses to go near them. Strangely, those people are always the ones who complain of night terrors, the kind where they accidentally scratch or bruise themselves.
I’m sure it’s just a coincidence but it’s weird how he always knows.
***
- This last one (for now) is about what I found in one of the rooms no staff other than the bosses are allowed access to. The clinic isn’t a new build, it used to be a hospital once upon a time before it fell into disuse and disrepair after the owners died, their kin didn’t really take an interest in running it and people started going to the newer, swankier hospitals that were built in their own towns. It’s at least a couple of hundred years old and even though it’s been renovated and looks brand new, there are certain parts of the building we just aren’t allowed to go into because they’re still being done up.
They’re labelled private, and have “authorized access only” across the front. A few days ago, I had lost my way trying to find the new staff room they had just renovated for us and found myself in an older, carpeted corridor staring at stairs that led up to a red door, which was ajar, light pouring out from inside. Thinking this was the staffroom, I took the stairs two at a time, wanting to get out of the dark, slightly musty corridor and make a fresh pot of coffee.
When I pushed open the door, I found a single armchair in the centre of the room, wooden floors and a massive floor to ceiling window behind it.
The light came from a crystal chandelier, this whole room looked like time had forgotten it, it was so different to the clinic which was all white and medical and still smelled of fresh pain. It was also slightly creepy how there was no other furniture in here. Just a single, red and gold ornate armchair. A pile of black files lay on top, the first one open. My curiosity got the better of me. I picked the open file up and began to read. And paled almost immediately. Across the front of the file, it stated clearly “deceased” as of today, but I had never heard of this patient before.
His name was Charles Islington. He was part of a experiment on night twitches, the thing that happens to you when your whole body jerks and no one really knows why. I hadn’t even known we were conducting something like that here and all the staff were supposed to have equal knowledge of everything happening within the clinic. I got as far as reading “patient appears to be convulsing after second induced jerk” when I heard a soft, scraping sound behind me. My heart stopped and I dropped the file, slowly turning around. There was nothing there. Suddenly the chandelier began to flicker, and I swear to God, I saw something…something move in between the flickering, edging closer to me. It looked like a figure, but I couldn’t make out its face, all I know is that it was reaching for me and it wasn’t a human hand, it couldn’t be. It was too twisted and gnarled and pale and the fingernails just weren’t right but I couldn’t even tell if that was what I was seeing my eyes were so effected by the light.Instead, I ran, almost blinded by the flickering in the direction of the door.
I kept running, down the stairs until I reached the corridor to the observation room and then walked to the observation room and shut the door, locking it for good measure. The rest of the night passed uneventfully but I took the next night off because I’m still slightly shaken.
I live alone in an apartment in a busy neighbourhood in a town about 30 miles away from the clinic and usually I feel really safe here. My little studio has always been my refuge and coming home has been a welcome respite.
Ever since that night though, I feel like something has been watching me. Like something angry has followed me back from the clinic. I can see it shift and move slowly, carefully. Like it is waiting to devour me. It thinks I haven't seen it yet, and I think that is what is keeping me safe. But I know it's there.
It's watching me right now as I type this.
Waiting.
In the corner of my eye.
---
Credit
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