The Night Shift: A short horror story

Megan Foster
10 min readOct 2, 2024

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Summary

Starting a new job can always be terrifying, but for our protagonist, stepping into the role of a night shift security guard at a nearly abandoned insane asylum feels like plunging into the depths of madness itself. Tasked with guarding old patient files and warding off trespassers — our protagonist keeps themselves busy by writing journal entries about their eerie experiences. As the summer progresses, the protagonist finds themselves spiraling deeper into their own mind as they discover that they are not the only one awake for the night shift.

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The Night Shift

June 21st, 1984 3:46a.m.

It’s interesting — the way your mind plays tricks on you when you’re alone and the room is just a little too dark, or it’s just a little too quiet — the coat on the door that you walk by every day suddenly looks as though a dark figure is standing over you, watching. That’s how it feels every second in this asylum, anytime I am alone with my thoughts for one second too long, my mind seems to betray me. So, instead I sit here and write these diaries to keep my mind busy; the radio plays quietly in the background behind me — soft gentle music just to have something with me. I’m not sure why I took this job, I guess I thought it would keep me away from the family, which of course it does, but the night watch at an insane asylum? I must be insane myself. But here I am, almost a month into my last summer break of college, sitting at the front desk of an old asylum, alone with my thoughts but kept company by this pen and paper, and having only to watch for people trying to get in, thinking this place is abandoned. That’s what the boss told me at least — that they needed a security guard not for patients trying to escape, but for people trying to get in. In fact, this place doesn’t even have patients — they just need me to guard old documents and patient files while the daytime crew get to sort and file every single one of the hundreds of years of patient history. But they said that there are quite a few people who enjoy exploring “abandoned” places and this one must be protected because of the files.

June 30th, 1984 10:57p.m.

Tonight I’m writing to you, diary, from the beginning of my shift. I had quite the long day spent in my room upstairs doing some reading and listening to the chatter of the daytime staff. I did not leave, though, I enjoy my time in my room — it’s practically an apartment with a small kitchen — everything I need! Except the food here doesn’t taste very good, it must be from the old dishes I am forced to use to cook — everything has a bit of a metallic taste.

Anyways, I am writing to you from the beginning of my shift because I need to distract myself a little extra tonight. You see, just last night, I was sat here watching the door and I heard a noise of some banging coming from the storage room behind me. It startled me a bit — nothing I’m not used to drowning out — but I could not shake the feeling that I needed to open the door to see what the noise was. When I got up and opened the door, there was nothing behind it. Odd, I thought, and sat back down. Then it started again. So I got up and opened the door, nothing. I sat back down. Banging started again. Opened the door — nothing. This time, I left the door wide open before I sat down and I only heard one loud bang. When I turned around, the door had closed. I was frightened, I must admit, but I had a job to do so I continued to sit there and the noise didn’t come back. It happened early into my shift, so I thought tonight I must keep myself busier the whole night.

July 3rd, 1984 11:38p.m.

Someone tried to come in last night. It was around 4am and it was just two young boys — couldn’t have been older than 16. I saw their flashlights before I heard them and when they tried to peer through the windows I got up and startled them. They took off running and it was actually quite fun for me.

July 5th, 1984 5:35a.m.

It’s nearing the end of my shift now, and I must say this was a busy night. The two boys returned sometime around 12:00a.m. and tried to enter again, but this time they didn’t carry flashlights. I knew they had arrived because I heard their mischievous laughter coming from the front door. They must have heard me coming because by the time I opened it, they were already gone. When I went back to my desk, I realized that my radio had been shut off so I’m not sure what the boys were doing outside, but it must have messed with the frequency of the radio.

Then, sometime around 3 a.m, I was up for my usual stroll around the facility — something I’ve started doing to keep me active — and I saw that a woman had somehow made her way in. It must have happened during my walk because that is the only time I leave the door, or maybe she got in when I used the restroom — I can’t be too sure as I didn’t hear anything. She looked no older than 30 and she was a beautiful woman — long black hair with a long black dress. I had to stop to admire her for a brief moment before I shouted at her to leave. She turned to look at me and then pointed to something behind me, when I turned to look at what it was there was nothing there. I realized quickly that it was just a distraction for her to leave because the instant I turned back around, she had run off. I haven’t seen her since but I have explored this entire place and have not found any trace of her. I assume she has left.

July 10th, 1984 2:47a.m.

This job is getting quite lonely. I have my writing and my walking, but there is not much else to do. In the daytime, I don’t leave much — I get my groceries delivered to me outside my door and the daytime crew are too busy to talk to me. I did think this would be more fun when I first took the job, but I am changing my mind now. I don’t want to leave though, I am getting paid well enough for this that I must stay. And returning home means facing the death of my family and I am not ready for that.

I think I have started to hear voices sometimes at night. My mind is playing crazy tricks on me, but I have turned my radio up a bit louder. Last night, the banging from the closet came back — I hadn’t heard it in weeks but I didn’t try to open the door this time. Instead, I got up and went for my walk and when I got back, the banging had stopped. I saw the woman again a couple nights ago too, but it was for a brief moment and then she ran and hid again. I wonder who she is and how she keeps getting in. She must know some secret entrance to get in here, because every time I run to check the front door — it is still locked.

July 13th, 1984 4:36a.m.

She’s here again. This time, the front door was left open when I returned from my walk. I closed it as quickly as I could but I do not know how long it was open for. My radio had also been shut off, I assume by the woman. She won’t talk to me, I tried to talk to her, but she will not respond. She only looks at me and then walks away. I called it in to my boss and explained that she had gotten in somehow, and he said he was on his way to check it out but that he wouldn’t get here until 5:00a.m. I heard some more whispers in the hallways as I tried to find the woman again, but I cannot find where they are coming from. I thought I heard some people laughing in one of the bedrooms, but when I opened it — there was no one there.

6:25a.m.

My boss just left, neither of us could find any trace of the woman. He told me that if it happens again then I should call the police, instead of him. I will do that next time — I am sure there will be a next time. I don’t understand, though, because I sat and watched the door while he went to check out the entire building. I never saw her leave, but she was nowhere to be found. How does she get in? How does she leave? She must leave when the daytime staff come in. Sneak out while they come in. Is she the one laughing and whispering too? Is she messing with me? Maybe she comes in through the basement door. It’s not easy to access, but also not impossible. I will check that tomorrow night. The daytime staff will be here soon, so I should also wait around a little longer to see if the woman leaves then.

July 14th, 1984 11:47p.m.

I did everything I said I would. I checked the basement door, I stayed longer for the daytime staff, and I even checked to make sure all the windows were closed. Nothing was out of place and there was no sign of any woman. I turned up my radio just a bit louder tonight. I even left the storage door open behind me, because when it is open it does not make noise.

July 17th, 1984 1:48a.m.

The night is strange because even though it is the middle of summer, it seems to just be getting colder each night. I’ve started to wear a jacket inside because it is getting too cold here. I tried

I don’t know what I was writing. I heard a noise and had to go check it out. The woman was back and it seems that she has gotten comfortable with me, because she stands a bit closer to me now. I could see the details on her face a bit better — still beautiful but she looks sad. I don’t know why she keeps returning. I ran down here to call the police but when they arrived, it was the same as when my boss was here — no trace of her and nothing out of place. None of them even heard the banging coming from the closet behind me because I forgot to leave it open. They just gave me a weird look and then opened the door to show nothing behind it. They must think I’m crazy but I know I am not. They said to call again if I see the woman, but I don’t think I will. She seems harmless and nothing ever comes from me bringing other people in here to find her.

July 19th, 3:55a.m.

The laughing — it won’t stop now. Children laughing, sounds like my younger brother. I opened all the bedroom doors and it stopped then, but there were no children in any of them. I will leave the bedroom doors open now too.

The woman was sitting on one of the lobby chairs when I got back downstairs. When I entered the room, she left. I did not address her, but this was the closest she has gotten to me. I could see the color of her eyes — grey.

July 21st, 1:57a.m.

The storage door stays open

The bedroom doors stay open

The front door stays locked

The radio stays loud

I must remind myself of that every night. I thought I heard my parents calling out for me from the floor above, but I did not move because I knew it could not possibly be them. It’s just in my head. The things this job is doing to my head…

July 22nd, 3:46a.m.

She’s here again. She’s sitting in the lobby with me now. I have decided that she is not a threat and she is some company anyways. She still won’t talk to me. Even as I write this, she just sits and stares at me with her sad grey eyes. She always wears the same outfit, too — a long black dress. She’s close enough now that I can smell her — she doesn’t smell very good — I assume she must be homeless and seeks shelter here at night.

I heard my parents’ voices again. The woman heard them too, actually. We both looked up at the floor above us but when I looked at the woman to acknowledge that she heard it also, it stopped. The child’s laugh or banging has not returned — I assume because I am keeping all of those doors wide open.

July 24th, 12:01a.m.

She’s next to me now, as I write this. She stands closer to me than ever and the smell of her makes me feel horrible inside, but she doesn’t leave anymore. I keep hearing my parents — their voices are getting more clear every night. I’ve also begun wearing a full coat, because it is just getting colder here. I still don’t want to leave — I can’t leave. I can’t face the reality out there. I know I will need to soon, though, and the urge to leave here gets stronger every night.

July 25th, 2:38a.m.

I have decided to leave. Last night, the woman had gone around and closed all of my doors. The banging and laughing returned instantly and I heard my parents shouting at me as I ran through the halls to open all of them again. I yelled at the woman not to do that, but she just stared at me.

She is standing behind me right now, I can feel her breath on my shoulder. I can feel her begging me to leave this place. I must leave. The radio is too loud for me to think now. I have to face my reality — I have to face the reality that my parents are dead. My brothers are dead. I am dead. My brother killed all of us the morning before I started this job. I don’t know why he did it, but I can remember seeing him shoot my parents while they lay in bed, then my youngest brother while he was laughing and playing with his toys, and then me. I laid on the floor with blood filling my mouth as I watched him then kill himself. The last thing I heard was the radio playing from behind me and someone banging on our front door. Then I ended up here. I don’t want to face that reality, but I know I must, and I think I am ready. I can feel the woman leaning over me right now. I know she’s going to touch me soon, because I can feel her hand hovering over my -

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Megan Foster

First-time writer. Long-time photographer. I want to use my writing to inspire short films and photoshoots, for myself and others.