For a long while, nothing stirred. The screens showed only empty shadows and flickering fluorescent lights. Maybe I’m overthinking this, he thought, trying to steady his breath. But the silence was almost worse—too still, too perfect.
Leaning back in his seat, frustration mounting, Nathan wondered if the presence only manifested when someone was inside. Maybe the ghosts don’t want to be watched like this. Minutes dragged by. Doubt crept in. Why am I doing this? Maybe it’s all in my head.
He was just about to shut down when the microphone picked up a faint sound—the slow, deliberate unzip of fabric.
Nathan froze. His throat went dry as he switched focus to the audio feed. The rustle was real.
Then came the clatter—the unmistakable noise of something heavy shifting.
His heart hammered as he frantically toggled between camera views, desperate for a glimpse of the source. His fingers shook.
And there it was.
On one screen, the heavy morgue cabinet door creaked open, moving inch by inch. Nathan’s breath hitched; his eyes widened in terror.
A dark figure emerged, crawling out slowly, blending seamlessly with the shadows. The cold settled over Nathan’s skin like ice.
The figure moved with unnatural grace through the morgue—its form nearly invisible against the gloom but undeniably there. Nathan’s eyes locked on the screen, paralyzed by horror.
Then, as if summoned from nightmare, two more figures slithered out from separate cabinets. Their bodies contorted, moving in eerie, unnatural ways.
Nathan’s throat constricted; cold sweat broke across his skin. His pulse thundered in his ears.
What were these things? And what did they want?