This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.
The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/djohle on 2024-11-28 04:43:08+00:00.
Working night shifts at the biomolecular sciences department has its perks — quiet halls, the gentle breeze from half-opened windows. No one stays late unless their research schedules get out of hand. After hours, it’s usually just the three of us: Dr. Harris, tucked away in his office; Liv in the cell culture room; and me, in the hematology lab.
We rarely interact during shifts, just the occasional nod in the hallway or a quick exchange in the break room. Liv, though, is a bit of a character. Once, I asked her why she was still working so late.
“Because I’m hard,” she replied in the most monotone voice imaginable.
It took me a moment to realize she meant hardworking. Her dry humor and quirky ways made her one of the few people who could make these long shifts bearable.
Last night started like any other, but by the end, everything was different.
It began around 4 p.m. when Dr. Harris dropped off a cooler at my workstation. He looked tense, avoiding eye contact as he hummed nervously.
“It’s from the anatomy department,” he said. “Run a full panel. Let me know if you see anything unusual.”
I opened the cooler, expecting the usual. Instead, I found something deeply unsettling. The blood inside was thick, dark, and almost black — more like syrup than anything biological.
“What’s the story on this?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
“It’s part of a long-term preservation study,” Harris muttered, already heading for the door. “Just run the tests.”
I shrugged, uneasy but curious, and got to work.
Around 4:40, Liv stopped by my lab. She leaned against the doorframe, her sly grin as familiar as it was mischievous.
“Did you see the body they sent to the cold room?” she asked.
“No,” I replied, frowning. “What body?”
“Guess the blood wasn’t enough — they sent the whole donor,” she said, her grin widening. “Want to check it out? It might be missing something… like a leg or something.”
With a sigh, I said. “No thanks, Liv.”
She pouted theatrically, then shrugged. “Suit yourself. But Harris looked really spooked when they brought it in. Just saying.”
Liv had a knack for making even the creepiest things seem oddly funny. I shook my head and turned back to my work.
By 5 p.m, the building had settled into its usual hum. I was in my lab, Harris was locked in his office, and Liv was back in the culture room. That’s when I first heard the noise.
It started as faint tapping, like metal shifting, and quickly grew louder — a slow dragging sound that set my teeth on edge. It seemed to echo from the cold room.
I straightened my lab coat and headed down the hallway. The lights flickered as I approached the cold room, and the temperature dropped noticeably.
The door was ajar.
Inside, the gurney stood empty, the body bag gone. Smears of something dark led away from the gurney, trailing toward the corner of the room. My heart raced as I followed the marks.
That’s when I saw it.
Standing in the corner, its limbs were unnaturally long, its skin taut over dark, pulsing veins. It’s head completely steady, its cloudy, corpse-like eyes locked on mine.
I backed away slowly, stepping into the hallway. The lights flickered again, and it moved—a sharp, jerking motion that sent my pulse skyrocketing.
“The body is kinda… standing in the hallway” I said flatly, leaning against Harris office doorframe.
His face went pale, his pen slipping from his hand. “What?”
“It’s moving,” I replied.
Harris stood, muttering under his breath. “This wasn’t supposed to happen…”
Before he could explain, the intercom crackled to life.
“Hello,” Liv’s voice whispered, soft and sing-song.
I grabbed the receiver. “Liv? Where are you?”
Static filled the line before her voice returned, quieter, almost playful. “It’s in the vents.”
The lights flickered violently, plunging the room into darkness.
Harris grabbed my arm. “We need to leave. Now.”
The hallway was a maze of flickering lights and shifting shadows. We headed toward the culture room, the dragging sounds echoing somewhere behind us.
The door to the culture room was ajar, swinging gently. I pushed it open, my stomach in knots.
Liv was standing in the corner. Her shoulders twitched as she muttered something under her breath.
“Liv?” I said cautiously.
She turned slowly, and my heart sank. Her face was pale and, her veins pulsing beneath her skin. Her eyes were glassy, reflecting the dim light, but her crooked smile was still there.
“You came for me,” she said softly, her voice tinged with a mix of joy and sadness.
“Of course I did,” I said. “We’re going to get you out of here.”
She tilted her head, her smile faltering. “I’m something else now.”