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The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/philosophysubboy on 2024-10-05 00:08:59+00:00.

I work the graveyard shift as a digital marketer for an Arabic company. The time zones are different, and while it’s midnight for me, it’s 8 AM in the USA. Most of my job involves writing and developing strategies for clients, which requires focus and quiet. I recently started working here, and there have been many nights where I’ve been left alone in the building—no one around except for the guard stationed at the ground level.

The first time I noticed something strange was when I went to the kitchen for coffee. I was brewing my cup when I saw it: a shadow, lingering in the corner of my eye. When I turned to focus, it ducked down. It didn’t disappear. It ducked down. Startled, I thought maybe it was the guard playing an elaborate prank, out of boredom. I shrugged it off and returned to my desk.

It happened a few more times over the next few weeks. Always the same—a shadow in the corner of my eye, ducking just before I could get a good look. But I ignored it, convinced it was nothing. Until one day, something stranger happened.

I had always noticed that the button for the 26th floor in the elevator was missing. No one talked about it. Curious, I asked my boss, and he explained that it was a mistake during construction. The building was supposed to have 29 floors, but for some bureaucratic reason, they numbered it as 30 for paperwork. He waved it off as no big deal. It was weird, but I ignored it, chalking it up to corporate oddities.

One night, I was taking the elevator up to my floor on the 24th. The doors opened and closed as usual, and I leaned back, exhausted from the long hours. But then the elevator started moving up again. That’s when I noticed it—the display screen showed the 26th floor.

My heart sank. That floor wasn’t supposed to exist. The elevator shouldn’t stop there.

The doors slid open, revealing a dark, empty hallway. My breath caught in my throat as the silence pressed in on me, heavier than ever before. And then, in the faint glow of the elevator lights, I saw it—the same shadow as before, standing at the far end of the hallway. This time, it didn’t duck down. It just stood there, staring.

And then I heard it—a wet, slapping sound, like a soaked cloth hitting the ground. Splash. Splash. Splash.

My heart raced. I jabbed at the elevator buttons frantically, but nothing happened. The sound grew closer. Splash. Splash. Splash. Panic gripped me as I smashed the buttons, praying for the doors to close. The sound was right out now, almost inside the elevator. Finally, the doors slid shut, and the elevator shot up—straight to the 30th floor.

I collapsed against the wall, trying to catch my breath. My heart pounded in my chest, my mind racing. Just as the elevator doors closed, I heard it again—a wet splat against the elevator doors. Like something hitting it, trying to get in.

Now, I’m on the roof. I tried going back down to my floor, but the elevator doors won’t budge. I’m trapped up here, and I don’t know what to do. I’m writing this now, hoping someone will read it, hoping someone will help me. The elevator just started working again, but it’s pitch dark inside.

And that wet, slapping sound… I can hear it again.

It’s behind me…