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Night Shift Hauntings: A True Tale of Workplace Ghosts and Supernatural Encounters

Night Shift Hauntings: A True Tale of Workplace Ghosts and Supernatural Encounters

Alone on the night shift, I felt a cold presence, whispers drifting through the empty office. A shadow moved—an older, unhappy figure. Rationally, it made no sense. But was it truly my imagination?

James Mason profile image
by James Mason

It was my first week at a new job in Buckinghamshire, sometime in the mid-2000s. The office was in a freshly renovated building—modern, sleek, perched at the edge of a country park. Despite the polished facade, the building was secluded, a half-hour drive from my house. On the surface, it seemed like an ideal start, a company that prided itself on innovation, a tech-driven workspace, and all the perks of a trendy, open-plan office. But a lingering sense of isolation crept in, especially on those cold evenings when I'd be the only one left working late.

In my contract, I had agreed to cover evening shifts. Since the company was still small, only one person was needed to cover the night—a policy that would be a complete violation of today’s health and safety standards. There was no security guard and no one else on-site. I was alone.

That first night, something felt… off. I’ve always been a sceptic, someone who scoffs at ghost stories, dismissing them as tales for Halloween night. But as my first shift dragged on, I started to notice little things. Strange things. Things that made the silence even louder.

Just after midnight, while I was on a call, the overhead light above my desk started to flicker. At first, I chalked it up to a loose bulb. But then the lights down the aisle began to flicker too, one by one, as if someone—or something—was slowly passing by, trailing darkness in its wake. A cold unease settled over me, but I pushed it down, rationalizing it as a coincidence.

I got up to grab a coffee, hoping to shake the feeling. When I returned to my desk, my monitor had gone completely blank. I jiggled the mouse and tapped the keys—nothing. And that’s when I felt it. The temperature around me dropped, as if a pocket of winter had settled over my desk. My rational brain told me the heating must be on a timer, but the chill seemed to seep into my bones. I brushed it off as best I could and finished my shift.

The next night, as I typed out a report, a soft sound drifted across the empty office—a whisper, low and urgent, like someone speaking just out of earshot. I froze, heart hammering, straining to catch the words. Silence. I tried to focus, convincing myself it was the hum of the building’s electrics. But then I heard it again. Closer this time, like a voice drifting through the walls, too soft to make out yet impossibly close. I held my breath and glanced toward the back of the room.

That's when I saw it. A shadow—no, a figure—moved slowly across the hall, barely more than a smudge against the dimly lit wall. But it was unmistakably the shape of a person, tall and dark, gliding past as if in slow motion. I sensed it was a woman, and strangely, I knew she was older. She seemed… unhappy. An inexplicable chill ran through me, but oddly, I wasn’t scared. It was more like a haunting sadness, a feeling that this presence had been there long before me, and would likely remain long after I left.

The following night, my boss happened to be on the late shift too. As the night wore on, I cautiously shared what I’d experienced. She listened with a bemused expression but didn’t dismiss me. Though we didn’t witness anything that evening, a change was implemented soon after HR mandated that no one would work alone on night shifts anymore. I was relieved, even though nothing else happened during my late shifts. Eventually, I switched to a regular nine-to-five, but I’d occasionally look back at that dark corner, wondering.

A year later, after I’d left for a job in London, I learned the building was turned into a sports hall. No one else had reported any sightings, just the odd flicker of the lights here and there. To this day, I can’t explain what I saw. I still share the story with friends, hoping to find a rational explanation, but a part of me knows deep down—it wasn’t a trick of the mind.

So, have you ever felt a chill where there shouldn’t be one? Heard a voice when you’re certain you’re alone?

Maybe you’ve crossed paths with a spirit that has a story of its own, lingering, waiting to be heard.

Don’t be afraid to share. Some stories are worth telling, even if they haunt you long after you’ve left the office.

James Mason profile image
by James Mason

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