by Nicholas Koler
In the fantastical regard, I can’t say that I believe in the paranormal–I’m very Fox Mulder when it comes down to it. “I want to believe,” but can anyone show me the proof? In a more grounded sense, looking at the etymological roots of the word, I think I could be swayed more easily. “Para” meaning “at the side of” or “side-by-side” and “normal” meaning standard or generally accepted. Paranormal doesn’t necessarily have to refer to legions of undead eating a small town mall, or violent poltergeists creating complex architectural works out of home furniture. Paranormal, at its simplest, can refer to something alongside the norm, something that exists in tandem with normality, side-by-side with the generally accepted reality. However, not long ago I had an experience that altered my perception of the paranormal
Until recently, I managed a video game store in town. The job responsibilities are the standard fare: open and close the shop, offer suggestions to “guests”–as corporate would have us call them–and just generally run the store. My responsibilities didn’t stray too far outside of that realm, which was nice.
I digress, I did not start out there as a manager; I worked my way up through entry-level to supervisor to training manager and finally to general store manager. When I started there, the senior employees told me that they loved to fuck with new blood. This ranged from little things–general hazing–like giving me the wrong answers to customers’ questions, to larger things, such as telling me the story of the various ghosts that haunt the store. Allow me to preface the following information with this: The store is located in a small strip mall across the street from a very popular shopping outlet. It is not built on an indian burial ground, there have been no murders, suicides, or other deaths in the building, and it is a generally pleasant environment. That said, according to my seniors at the time, the place was haunted.
“There is a ghost here at the store,” one of my supervisors, Shane, told me, “you can see her sometimes, out of the corner of your eye when you walk past the back part of the store. She also likes to fuck with the security cameras. Look.” Shane pointed to one of the video feeds we have in the store. Nothing happened at first, but after a few seconds the screen flickered, interference filling the bottom portion of the screen before snapping back to normal.
“Okay, that doesn’t necessarily have to be a ghost. It’s probably just electronic interference.” I wasn’t bullshitting, I had seen the cameras and the set-up in the backroom; it was an absolute mess of cables with torn casings and the display they were using was clearly from the early 90s.
“C’mon kid. If it were electronic interference, it would happen all the time, or at least during set intervals. This shit is infrequent and only happens when we point it out or when someone new starts working here–she’s scoping them out to see if they’re an easy target.”
Typical, I thought. They’re buying into a self-fulfilling prophecy. Of course it’ll happen whenever you point it out if you point it out when it happens. I wasn’t trying to be a dick, but like I said, I really didn’t believe in the paranormal. “Sure it does. So how do I sign into the register? Does she open it whenever I need to put money in?”
“You’re a dick, man, but I like you. Here, like this.” Shane laughed and helped me out.
Fast forward a few months. Before this next part, I should explain something about Shane. He was a tall guy, well-built too, definitely a gym rat. He was probably 6’1’’ and weighed about 180, always full of energy and never afraid to back down from a guest who was acting more like a home invader than a retail customer. Now, payroll had been cut back a lot at the time, which meant instead of having both a supervisor and a grunt at the store to close, the supervisors had to close by themselves on less busy days. After a few weeks of this, a lot of Shane’s usual vim and vigor had dissipated. The next time I saw him, he looked like shit; bags hanging under his eyes, ratty, knotted hair that was usually combed back slick, and scraggly 5 o’clock shadow where his face was typically well-shaven. I was taken aback when I saw him on our first shift together in weeks.
“Hey man, are you doing alright? You look like you haven’t slept in weeks.”
“It’s her, man. It’s the bitch who’s haunting the store.”
“Come off it, you’re being ridiculous. Stop letting it get to you and you won’t be too scared to sleep anymore.”
“Fuck you, I’m not lying. She lives in the ceiling. That’s why one of the panels in the backroom ceiling is gone. She lives up there during the day and at night she crawls down to stretch her bones.” He started wiggling his arms at me, and for a brief moment the Shane that had trained me was back. I can’t say that what he said didn’t chill me a little bit, but it all just seemed too weird.
“She crawls down out of the ceiling to stretch her bones? C’mon man, you know that sounds ridiculous, right? Why would she even be haunting this place? It’s not like there’s any good reason for it. And what’re her intentions? To not scare anyone? Does she hook up an Xbox at night and hop onto Halo 5 with us?” Shane chuckled grimly at my refutations.
“She saps the energy of the people who work and shop here. She’s like a parasite, see? During the day, she rests in the ceiling, right above us, even now. She’s probably listening. During the day, there are more people around, so she can sap their energy right through the ceiling, barely even has to try. In fact, she sucks up so much energy that she needs to let some of it out at night, so she crawls on down and moves about the store.”
“That’s insane. I mean, that’s absolutely unreal. What else can you tell me? Do you know anything else about her? Oh, tell me more, tell me more! Like, does she have a car?” I quipped, being an ass.
“Whatever man, believe or not; you aren’t here often enough to feel the effects. If you ever get promoted to a full-time position like me, maybe you’ll start to see.”
As if prophecy, a few months later, one of my other supervisors got a job offer from another company and quit without notice. A week of training and I found myself in the same position as Shane, closing alone on a weeknight. This was my first “encounter.” It was maybe 7 or 8pm. I didn’t take note of the time; I just know that it was closing time because no one was in the store for the last few hours. I had just finished alphabetizing a section of games when I heard a clattering noise in the back room. This was followed by what sounded like someone scrambling around.
I’ll be honest, I got goosebumps. I played a tough game when it came to denying her existence, but when faced with the reality of her, I got a little freaked. I inched my way towards the back door, unsure if I should open it or not. I must’ve been standing there for a few minutes, unmoving and concentrating goddamn hard on that door. I lifted my keys up to the lock. Just as I was about to push the key in, a hand clamped down on my shoulder and a voice asked,
“What are you doing?” I practically jumped out of my goddamn skin. I threw my keys up in the air and turned 180 degrees like a fucking top, coming face-to-face with the gruesome countenance of…the store manager. He listened closely as I explained what had happened and what Shane had told me, nodding occasionally, indicating some degree of interest in my story.
“Sounds like he finally got to you,” he chuckled, “That fucker won our bet then,” he said, slamming his fist down onto his leg.
“Bet? What bet?” I asked, anger entering my voice.
“He bet me that he could get you to believe the story, even a little bit. I told him he wouldn’t–you were too stubborn about your beliefs–but I guess I was wrong. Then again, he doesn’t know that I stopped by tonight, so if we keep this to ourselves… I’ll split the takings with you.” I took the information in slowly. Before I realized it, I was doubled over with laughter. I couldn’t help myself; the whole situation was such bullshit. In the end, I took solace in the fact that I had been right, but was still a little angry at myself and at Shane for tricking me. I took down a mental note to give him some serious shit the next time I saw him.
But I didn’t see him. Because we were both supervisors, we didn’t work together too often anymore and our school schedules fell so that we would work opposite shifts. One day, when I knew he was closing and I got out of class early, I thought about going down to the store to finally give him the reaming I had been planning. Then I got a phone call. It was from the store manager, who told me that Shane hadn’t shown up for his shift and hadn’t given notice that he would be gone, so he was wondering if I could close for him that night. Normally, I’d be hesitant to take a shift after classes, but I figured it couldn’t hurt and I was a little worried about Shane. I went in and the store manager rushed out, briefly telling me that it had not been busy all day so I had nothing to worry about without a grunt employee that night. Well, shit, I thought, I guess tonight is going to be boring. It was. I had a few guests here and there, but for the most part, the night was as dead as the day. This is when I had my second encounter with her.
I had just locked the door to the store and pulled the large gate that is supposed to deter delinquents from breaking in after hours, when I heard that same clattering and scrambling noise from a few weeks ago. I froze. I wasn’t entirely sure what to do as I still had to go to the back to turn the lights out and grab my backpack. I thought about Shane’s words, “During the day, there are more people around so she can sap their energy right through the ceiling.” But today had been slow, there weren’t very many people around. A bone-chilling thought ran through my mind: What if she didn’t get her fill today and she came down early for a snack. I was still rooted to the ground. That thought wouldn’t leave my head. Finally, after a good five minutes, I willed myself to nut up, creeping slowly towards the backroom. As I stepped closer, the lights flickered briefly. It was so brief, I wasn’t even sure if it had happened until it happened again. The lights would flicker on and then off and on and off again. I kept inching towards the door. Inserting my key into the lock, I shit you not, I heard a chair move ever so briefly. I stepped away from the door. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to go back there. I needed to, though; my laptop was back there.
I grabbed my keys and turned, pushing the door open. The backroom was a mess, absolutely torn apart, games were knocked off the shelves, packages from the distribution center were ripped open and their contents spilled out onto the floor. The lights in the back flickered again. I willed myself not to look up at the hole in the ceiling for fear of seeing her staring back down at me. Rushing to the corner of the room, I flipped the breaker and grabbed my backpack. Turning around, I could have sworn I saw something in the opposite corner, but there was no way in fucking hell I was going to stop to check. I ran for the back door, flipping the remaining light switches next to the door on the way out and slamming it shut before anyone or anything could follow me. I breathed in deeply and made for the back counter where I could input my alarm code, close the store, and smoke a cigarette to relax my nerves.
I had just gotten to the alarm panel when I tapped my pocket and realized that my smokes were still in the back room. In retrospect, it sounds stupid, I could have just gone and bought another pack, but I think I was trying to stay true to my principles. I did not believe in the paranormal. I do not believe in the paranormal. There’s nothing back there, I don’t care what the backroom looked like, there was nothing back there waiting. Was there? I approached the door and heard a clicking sound. Not clicking as in predator clicking, but a very faint, very iconic clicking sound. I had my key in the door when I realized what it was. It was the sound of my lighter opening and closing. I would know that sound anywhere, it was so distinct and so familiar. I got right the fuck out of there. I didn’t even set the alarm, just bolted away. After I closed the gate and locked the door, I stood with my back to the glass paneling for a moment, just to breathe, just to gather my nerves. There was another sound. It was an obvious opening and closing, followed by something landing with a clatter behind me. I didn’t turn around, just ran to my car, jumped in and slammed the key into the ignition, flooring it out of the parking lot and back home.
The next morning, I returned to open the store. Walking up to the door, I noticed something on the ground. Outside the door was my lighter.
