The Night Watch

It was a Thursday night in June, and I was nearing the end of my security guard shift at the American Dream mall. Exhaustion weighed heavily on me as I had been working on a project for my other job, hoping that its success would grant me the opportunity to focus solely on the company I truly aspired to work for. As I patrolled the first floor, the ambiance seemed no different from any other night.

But then, as I glanced up towards the second-floor railing, my heart skipped a beat. There, towering above me, stood a man peering down. Initially, I mistook him for my fellow security guard, John, given his tall stature. To catch his attention, I greeted him with a louder "hi," but received no response. An eerie feeling crept over me, compelling me to reach out to John via the radio.

John's voice crackled through the device, "Hey, what's up?" I wasted no time, asking, "Are you on the second floor looking down on me right now?" His reply shattered my assumptions, "No, I'm outside. Why?" The realization hit me like a bolt of lightning— the person on the second floor was not John. Panic surged through my veins as the mysterious figure began sprinting away.

Without hesitation, I called John, urgently summoning him to my location. As I made my way towards him, the sound of thunderous footfalls echoed through the first-floor corridors, growing louder with each passing moment. Fear gripped me, and with every step, I felt death inching closer. Desperation fueled my flight as I raced towards John, praying for safety.

In a desperate bid to escape, I darted into a nearby janitor's closet, seeking refuge from the relentless pursuit. Hidden inside, I clung to hope, hoping that the nightmare would dissolve into a mere dream. Time seemed to stretch infinitely as I waited, the intensity of the moment amplified by the sounds of chaos outside. Suddenly, a loud bang pierced the air, causing me to freeze in terror.

The world fell silent, punctuated only by a soft knock on the closet door. My hand instinctively covered my mouth to stifle any sound. Slowly, the knob turned, and the door creaked open, revealing a familiar face— John. Tears streamed down my face, a mixture of relief and sheer exhaustion washing over me. John's concerned voice broke the silence, "Are you okay? What happened?"

With trembling words, I managed to explain the ordeal, recounting the chase and my refuge in the closet. Yet, to my surprise, John claimed he had seen no one else in the mall besides us. Doubt gnawed at my mind as I questioned my own sanity. However, deep down, a lingering conviction persisted, assuring me that I had indeed witnessed something truly unsettling.

As the shift drew to a close, I made my way home, finding solace in the thought that the nightmarish episode was finally over. The next day, before heading to my other job to hand in the crucial project, John called. He informed me that there had been no signs of anyone else at the mall apart from us. The contradiction left me perplexed, questioning whether fatigue had played tricks on my mind. But in my heart, I knew the truth— someone had been there, lurking in the shadows.

After submitting my project to my boss, relief washed over me as he expressed satisfaction with my work. Finally, the opportunity to work full-time at the company I desired had become a reality. I would no longer be bound to the security guard role, forced to face the haunting memories of that fateful night.

Though time would inevitably pass, the memory of that harrowing experience would forever be etched in my mind. It serves as a reminder of the fragility of our perceived safety and the mysterious forces that can lurk in the darkest corners of our existence.