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

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.