I’d been working in morgues as a Mortician since my early twenties and enjoyed my job immensely.
Not one to be happy with the “messy” side of the work, I preferred the dressing and application of makeup.
I showed great respect at all times and felt proud with my work and presenting the departed in a better light.
Updated 2/9/2020 – As I was never truly captivated by ghost stories, what happened on my watch nearly made me change my profession.
We normally ensured that there were at least two employees present at any time, but one night found me on my own.
This wasn’t an issue at the beginning of my shift, but for some reason I became increasingly unnerved.
At first it was the silence but then I began to hear creepy moans, sighs and scary growls coming from nowhere.
I tried to ignore the sounds, believing that my imagination was getting the best of me, but I soon decided to check it out.
Walking through the back rooms, I had a chill running up and down my spine, which I couldn’t shake off.
When I opened the door to the morgue I was sure I heard whispering suddenly stop.
Everything was still.
I turned to walk back out of the room and felt a hot breath on the back of my neck.
I spun around but no one was there.
Even though it was idiotic, I called out, “Is anyone there?”
After a brief moment, I heard a whisper, “No one livin’!”
Even though I ran, I knew I’d have to go back
One cadaver I had to prep was what my colleagues called “The Rockspider.” He was in the morgue.
He was known as the rockspider, due to allegations that he had been a pedophile during the last part of his life.
He hadn’t been found guilty and had died at the age of sixty eight. His funeral was the next day and I had to prep him.
While I sipped my tea and tried to build up the courage to return, the silence was not as comforting as I expected.
I dragged my feet back to the morgue and made sure that all the lights were on.
I grabbed my case and went in.
The air was a lot thicker in there and surprisingly warm.
Despite the warmth, I continued to feel chills down my spine.
The cadaver was on one of the tables and covered by a sheet.
I pulled it down and started priming his face.
I couldn’t help noticing how oily his skin was – which was odd – as the skin of the dead is usually dry and slack.
It was disconcerting but I kept going, trying my best to get it over with.
It seemed like he had only just passed.
As soon as I began to apply the foundation on his skin, I heard a hoarse voice whisper, “Nice!”
Worse than any ghost stories I’d heard
I gasped and jumped back.
It took a while for me to collect myself and step forward. When I did, the eyes opened!
I froze when the eyelids disappeared and many, tiny fingers started wriggling out of the sockets!
My heart pumped wildly when deep, sepulchral laughter rang out in the room.
I backed away and screamed.
I kept bumping into tables as the creepy fingers kept wriggling – like little people trying to escape prison bars.
The hoarse whispering followed me everywhere as I ran out and through the rooms – making my way to the front.
Phrases such as, “Run, run, run!” and “Come back and touch me” kept coming until I made it out of the building.
I called my boss and he came and finished the job, with no incidents.
Working with cadavers never scared me but this one still makes me shiver in fear.
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