Shadows in the Office

Teddy had always been independent. Growing up in a small town, she knew she wanted more than the quiet streets and predictable routines. So, when she got a job offer in a big city, she didn’t think twice. It was everything she had dreamed of—freedom, excitement, and a new chapter in her life. The job was at a media company that occupied the top two floors of an old skyscraper downtown, a historic building with towering ceilings and massive windows that overlooked the bustling streets below.

On her first day, Teddy walked into the building with a sense of accomplishment. She had made it. The office had an air of old-world charm, with its mahogany desks, brass lamps, and intricate tile floors that squeaked with every step. Her workspace was on the 12th floor, far away from the noisy main streets, making it eerily quiet at times. There were only a handful of employees in the office, scattered across the large open-plan room.

Everything was perfect, or so it seemed.

As the weeks went by, Teddy started noticing little things—things that didn’t quite add up. It began with small, almost forgettable oddities. Sometimes, when she came in early or stayed late, she’d hear footsteps in the hallway, even though she knew she was the only one on the floor. At first, she brushed it off. It was an old building; the sounds could be coming from anywhere. But then, it started happening more frequently.

One night, after staying late to finish up a project, Teddy was packing her things when she heard it again—the soft thud of footsteps. This time, they were closer, right outside her office door. She stood still, listening, waiting for someone to appear. But no one did. Slowly, she got up and walked to the door, peeking out into the hallway.

Empty.

She shook her head, laughing at herself. “Stop being so paranoid, Teddy,” she whispered. She was probably just tired, that was all.

But as the days passed, the strange occurrences became harder to ignore. The footsteps came more often, and sometimes, late at night, she’d hear the sound of whispering, like a conversation just out of reach. Teddy would look around, but there was never anyone there. The others at work didn’t seem to notice anything odd, and she didn’t want to sound crazy, so she kept it to herself.

One evening, after most of her coworkers had left, Teddy was working alone, the dim glow of her computer screen casting long shadows across the room. As she typed, the lights flickered, then went out, plunging the entire floor into darkness. Her heart skipped a beat, but she quickly reminded herself that old buildings had electrical issues all the time.

She reached for her phone to use its flashlight and got up to find the switchboard. The silence in the office was thick, heavier than usual. Her footsteps echoed in the dark as she made her way down the hallway toward the utility room. The only sound was the faint hum of the city below, muted through the thick walls.

As she turned the corner, she stopped dead in her tracks.

There, standing at the end of the hallway, was a figure—a tall, shadowy silhouette, barely visible in the faint light from the emergency exit sign. Teddy’s heart raced, and for a moment, she stood frozen. She blinked, trying to focus her eyes in the darkness, but the figure didn’t move.

“Hello?” she called out, her voice trembling.

No response.

She slowly stepped forward, her hands shaking. “Is someone there?” she asked again, trying to sound braver than she felt.

As she moved closer, the figure seemed to fade, dissolving into the shadows as if it had never been there. Teddy’s breath hitched, and she spun around, her eyes darting across the darkened office. The footsteps. The whispers. The figure in the hall. Something was wrong with this place.

She hurried to the utility room and flipped the breaker. The lights flickered back to life, casting a harsh, sterile glow across the empty office. Everything looked the same—normal, untouched—but Teddy knew it wasn’t. She could feel it, a creeping sense of unease that settled in her chest.

The next day, Teddy decided to ask around. She approached one of her coworkers, an older woman named Meera who had been with the company for years.

“Hey, Meera,” Teddy started, trying to sound casual, “have you ever noticed anything… strange around here? Like, at night?”

Meera paused, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Strange? How do you mean?”

Teddy hesitated, unsure of how to explain without sounding ridiculous. “I don’t know, like, footsteps when no one’s there? Or… I don’t know, just weird things?”

Meera’s expression changed, a flicker of something dark passing across her face. She glanced around, then leaned in closer, lowering her voice. “You’re not the first one to say that, you know. This building has a history.”

Teddy’s stomach tightened. “What kind of history?”

Meera glanced around again, making sure no one was listening. “Before the media company took over, this place used to be an old law office. There was a fire, about twenty years ago. No one knows how it started, but a few people were trapped inside, on this floor. They say some of them never left.”

Teddy’s blood ran cold. “What do you mean, never left?”

Meera sighed. “People hear things. See things. It’s always been like that, but no one talks about it much. Most people don’t stay late. You probably shouldn’t, either.”

Teddy nodded, her mind racing. She wanted to ask more, but Meera’s tone made it clear she wasn’t interested in continuing the conversation.

That night, Teddy couldn’t stop thinking about what Meera had said. She tried to rationalize it—old buildings creak, they settle, and strange things happen in the dark. But deep down, she knew this was different. The figure she had seen, the whispers—it felt too real to dismiss.

Despite her fear, Teddy stayed late again, determined to confront whatever it was that haunted the office. She sat at her desk, the faint glow of the city outside the window her only source of light. The office was silent, except for the occasional creak of the floorboards beneath her feet.

Hours passed, and just when she started to think that maybe it was all in her head, she heard it again. The footsteps. This time, they were louder, more deliberate, coming from the hallway. Teddy’s pulse quickened, but she forced herself to stand, to follow the sound.

She made her way to the hallway, her breath coming in shallow gasps. The air felt colder here, as if the temperature had dropped several degrees. As she turned the corner, she saw it again—the figure. This time, it was clearer. A tall man in a suit, his face shadowed, standing at the end of the hall.

But this time, Teddy didn’t freeze. She stepped forward, her heart pounding in her chest. “Who are you?” she called out.

The figure didn’t move. It simply stood there, watching her.

Teddy took another step forward, and then, in the blink of an eye, the figure vanished.

A gust of cold air rushed past her, and for a moment, she swore she heard a whisper, faint and distant.

"Leave."

Teddy backed away, her hands trembling. She grabbed her bag and rushed out of the office, not stopping until she was out on the street, the bright lights of the city grounding her once more.

She never stayed late again after that night. The office, once a place of ambition and excitement, now felt like something else entirely—something haunted by the past. Teddy couldn’t explain what she had seen, but she knew one thing for sure: some ghosts don’t want to be forgotten.