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The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/CreepyStoriesJR on 2024-09-10 17:29:20+00:00.

I’d never been one to believe in the supernatural. Ghost stories, urban legends, all that stuff, none of it had ever held much sway over me. But after my first night as a security guard at this 24-hour gas station on the outskirts of town, I wasn’t so sure anymore.

It was supposed to be an easy gig. A late-night job to pay the bills. Nothing more than keeping an eye on the place, handling the occasional drunk driver or rowdy teen, and making sure no one wandered too far into the parking lot. At least, that’s what I thought when I applied. The pay was decent, the hours quiet, and the isolation didn’t bother me. In fact, I preferred it.

The gas station itself wasn’t much to look at, a dingy building that sat at the edge of a long, winding road that seemed to stretch into nothing. The main attraction was the bright fluorescent lights that flickered above the pumps and cast long shadows across the parking lot. Inside, it was just as unimpressive: aisles of chips and snacks, a small refrigerator stocked with energy drinks and sodas, and a counter where my coworker, Ray, sat behind the register.

Ray was in his late forties, maybe early fifties, and had the look of a man who’d spent too many years on the night shift. His skin was pale, his hair thinning, and his eyes had that glazed-over, distant look that made me wonder if he ever really slept. He’d been at the gas station for years, or so he told me on my first night, and he didn’t say much else unless he had to.

Tonight, as I clocked in and grabbed my flashlight, Ray was sitting behind the counter, sipping from a cup of coffee and staring out into the parking lot. He nodded at me when I came in but didn’t say anything at first. He didn’t need to.

“How’s the night been so far?” I asked, trying to make some small talk.

Ray took a long sip of his coffee before answering, his voice gravelly from too many cigarettes. “Quiet. Just how I like it.”

“Anything I should know about?” I asked, settling in for what I thought would be an uneventful night.

Ray’s eyes flicked toward me, then back to the parking lot. “Yeah, actually,” he said slowly. “There are a few things you should know. Rules, mostly. The kind that’ll keep you out of trouble.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Rules? Like what?”

Ray glanced over his shoulder, as if making sure no one else was listening, then leaned in a bit closer. “I’ll tell you about them through the night,” he said. “It’s easier that way. Some things you just need to experience to understand.”

I was about to ask him what he meant when he added, “And one more thing: don’t ask too many questions.”

The night passed slowly. The hours seemed to drag on, and apart from the occasional car pulling in to fill up, nothing much happened. I made my rounds around the parking lot, checked the perimeter, and kept an eye on the pumps. Ray stayed behind the counter, always watching, always sipping his coffee.

It wasn’t until around 1 AM when Ray suddenly cleared his throat. “There’s something you need to know about,” he said, his voice low and serious. “First rule.”

I stopped mid-step and turned toward him. “Yeah?”

“If you see a little boy come in,” Ray continued, “around seven or eight years old, wearing a red jacket, don’t talk to him. Don’t even acknowledge him. Just let him do what he does and leave. He comes around sometimes, usually late at night. But whatever you do, don’t speak to him. If he asks you for help, ignore him.”

I stared at Ray, waiting for the punchline, but there wasn’t one. He was dead serious.

“What happens if I talk to him?” I asked.

Ray didn’t look at me. “You don’t want to know,” he muttered.

I didn’t press him further, but the thought of a little boy wandering around the gas station in the middle of the night was unsettling enough.

A few hours later, after another lull in activity, Ray spoke up again. “Second rule,” he said, without looking at me.

I was restocking the drinks in the cooler, and I stopped, listening.

“Stay out of the shadows,” Ray continued. “If the lights flicker and go out, stay where it’s lit. Don’t walk into the dark corners. You might see things moving in the dark, shadows that don’t belong to anything. Whatever you do, don’t follow them. They’ll lead you somewhere you can’t come back from.”

I glanced out the window at the flickering parking lot lights. They were old, barely working half the time. But Ray’s tone made me uneasy.

“Have you seen the shadows?” I asked, my curiosity getting the better of me.

Ray shrugged, sipping his coffee. “Once or twice. Don’t care to see ‘em again.”

Around 3 AM, the gas station was completely silent. No customers, no cars, just the hum of the fluorescent lights overhead. I was getting restless when Ray spoke up again.

“Third rule,” he said. “That door in the back of the station? The one marked ‘Employees Only’? Don’t open it. Don’t knock on it, don’t go near it. Just ignore it. It’s better that way.”

I frowned, looking toward the back of the station. There was a door there, old and scratched up, with a faded sign that read “Employees Only.” I hadn’t paid much attention to it before.

“What’s behind it?” I asked, though I had a feeling I already knew Ray’s answer.

“Don’t know. Don’t care to find out,” Ray replied. “But sometimes you’ll hear noises coming from back there. Scratching, tapping, maybe even voices. Ignore it. The door stays closed.”

I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his words settle over me.

The hours dragged on. It was nearing 4 AM, and fatigue was starting to set in. The hum of the gas station’s lights, the soft hum of the refrigerator units, and Ray’s occasional cryptic advice were all that kept me company.

That’s when Ray hit me with the fourth rule.

“Last thing you need to know for now,” he said, his voice just above a whisper. “The light in the parking lot? The big one near the pumps? Make sure it stays on. If it goes out, you need to fix it right away.”

I raised an eyebrow. “What happens if it goes out?”

Ray set his coffee cup down and gave me a hard look. “If it goes out, they’ll come. And you don’t want them coming.”

I didn’t ask who they were.

Sometime after 4 AM, the gas station felt… wrong. I was stocking shelves when I noticed Ray wasn’t behind the counter anymore. I hadn’t seen him leave or heard him move. It was as if he had vanished.

“Ray?” I called out, stepping toward the counter. No answer.

I looked around the gas station, checking the aisles, the bathrooms, and even the perimeter outside. But there was no sign of him. The back door remained shut, the shadows in the far corners of the station dark and foreboding.

I felt a rising sense of dread. Ray was nowhere to be found. The air felt thick, like it was pressing down on me, and a chill crept up my spine.

Suddenly, I remembered one of the rules, the shadows. I stayed under the fluorescent lights, avoiding the dark corners, my heart racing. I didn’t know if I’d broken a rule by looking for him, but something told me I had.

The parking lot light flickered.

My stomach lurched, and I sprinted outside, fumbling with the switch on the side of the building. After a few agonizing seconds, the light sputtered back to life. The parking lot bathed in that familiar glow, and I exhaled, my hands shaking.

When I went back inside, Ray was there. Sitting behind the counter like he’d never left.

“Where the hell did you go?” I demanded, my voice louder than I’d intended. “I couldn’t find you anywhere.”

Ray didn’t look up from his coffee. “You shouldn’t have looked for me.”

“What?”

“That’s the last rule,” he said, his voice low and tired. “If I disappear, don’t look for me. The thing that comes back won’t be me. Don’t talk to it, don’t acknowledge it, just pretend it’s not there.”

I stared at him, my blood running cold. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Ray finally looked up at me, his eyes empty, devoid of any emotion. “You broke the rule.”

My heart pounded in my chest, confusion and fear swirling inside me. Was he messing with me? How could this thing be telling me not to talk to it if it wasn’t Ray?

I backed away slowly, my mind racing. If this wasn’t Ray, then what was it? Why would it warn me about itself?

The shadows in the corners of the station seemed to shift, growing darker, stretching toward me. The parking lot light flickered again, and this time, I didn’t move. I was frozen, caught between disbelief and terror.

It was like the shadows were alive, moving, slithering, coiling closer and closer. My mind raced, screaming at me to stay in the light, to follow Ray’s rules. But my legs felt like lead, my body unwilling to respond as the darkness seemed to wrap itself around the corners of the store.

Suddenly, a low hum filled the air, like the station itself was groaning under the weight of something unseen. The flickering of the parking lot light became more erratic, casting brief, harsh flashes across the interior. In the back of my mind, I remembered what Ray had said about the lights: If they go out, they’ll come. You don’t want them coming.

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to move. My body jerked into action as I ran for the switch that controlled the parking lot lights. My fingers fumbled with the old, rusted lever on the wall, and for a moment, my heart nearly stopped as I realized it wasn’t working. The hum intensified, and the shadows seemed to surge forward, creeping across the floor like liquid night.

With a desperate grunt, I yan…

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