Scary Horror Stories by Dr. NoSleep - They only gave us one rule about the warehouse...

Episode Date: September 10, 2021

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They only gave us this one rule when we started working at the local Costco. Whatever request is made, do not get the item from the old storage warehouse. It doesn't matter if the system tells you the item is located there. You do not enter the building for any reason. Upon inquiring as to why we had a massive warehouse nearby without using it, we were just told to follow the damn rules if we wanted to keep our jobs. I asked around, trying to get information from some of the more senior staff members. But none could give a clear answer.

Some of them told us the people who ventured inside were fired, while others said they just sort of vanished. Although I was young and rebellious, I didn't dare enter the warehouse for fear of being fired. During my first month, I didn't even approach the warehouse. From a distance, it looked like any old abandoned building, unkempt, and left alone for time itself to wash over it. The concrete covered ground around the building was filled with cracks with plants starting to emerge, reclaiming territory long since lost. but the more I stayed in its vicinity, the more it peaked my curiosity. What left an even more uncomfortable taste in my mouth was the total disinterest shown by the rest of this staff.

The only other person who showed even a slight interest in the forbidden building was Ray, a newcomer that had started just a few weeks before me. I bet you at some sort of slave factory where they keep disobedient workers, forcing them to produce products, he joked. Nah, it's definitely a covert CIA facility holding amy. I joked back. What was even stranger was that no matter what item we searched for, new or old, it would always be marked as in stock in the abandoned warehouse.

When customers asked for certain items not in the actual store, we'd have to lie and tell them we were sold out, even if we all knew the item was actually in the other warehouse. This all came to a head when Ray was dealing with a particularly irritable customer. He'd just been boasting a new grill for the summer season, trying to get his sales numbers up, and had mistakenly assured the customer we still had them in stock. But with the heat wave raging and barbecue parties at an all-time high, they were long gone.

You're joking. I can see it right there. It says there's still a dozen of them in stock. The customer yelled as he peeked over the counter to get a glance at the screen. I'm sorry, sir. It's a mistake. It's not actually in the building. It's in a storage facility. And? I saw the warehouse as I drove by. Why don't you stop being a lazy piece of shit? And go get me my item. Don't you care about your customers? Ray attempted to alert the manager, but as usual, he was off-site on unknown business, and though it clearly wasn't Ray's fault that the customer acted like an absolute asshole, we all knew he'd be blamed for causing a fuss. I can't tell what finally prompted Ray to visit the warehouse. Maybe he'd had enough of the customer's abuse.

Maybe he truly worried about his sales numbers, or maybe he just couldn't stand the unrelenting curiosity anymore. Whatever the case, Ray was going to enter the abandoned warehouse to retrieve the item. Ray, come on. Just let the dumbass leave a shitty review, I begged. Aren't you curious about why we're not allowed to go inside? The manager is away anyway. He'll never know, Ray said back. Come with me, live a little. I don't know. Really? Are you afraid you might lose your minimum wage job? You'll get another. He had a point. The job sucked, and it wasn't like the area was lacking in companies, waiting to take advantage of young college students desperately needing weekend and evening jobs. I decided to go with him to finally satiate my curiosity.

Ray assured the customer that his item would be right up, and together we walked the two minutes over to the warehouse. Weird how it's always fully stocked with new items, yet I've never once seen a truck park here, I said. Might be coming before our shift starts, Ray explained. We entered through one of the side doors, a rusty chunk of metal that seemingly hadn't been touched in years. As we took our first steps inside,

A thousand paranoid thoughts rushed through my mind. What if they'd been dumping toxic waste there? What if it was used by gangs? What if it collapsed? But Ray didn't seem bothered by the mysterious building. He seemed more excited than afraid. We ventured through some offices, filled with outdated desks and technology. There was old furniture everywhere covered in a thick layer of dust.

By all means, the place seemed abandoned. Then we reached the actual storage room, a massive hall with endless rows of tall shelves stretching far out of reach. Due to the setup, it almost caused an illusion that made the room seem bigger on the inside than the outside.

And just like the offices, everything was covered in dust and mold. All right, we're looking for Isle 404, shelf 7B, Ray said. I wouldn't even have thought the place could fit that many aisles, considering how large each of them was, but I followed diligently behind as Ray led the way.

We walked for what felt like minutes, passing aisle by aisle as the numbers counted up. but they weren't counting in a progressive numerical manner. Instead, they seemed to jump randomly as we passed. There it is, Ray eventually said. And right he was. I took a moment to just look around. And from where we stood, the place seemed even bigger.

Ray searched for his shelf, quickly finding it, and as promised, it was fully stocked with the brand new grills. See, all's well that ends well, he said. But something was wrong. The grills were covered in dust, just like everything else in the warehouse. But in addition, the packaging was faded, as if the items had been lying there for years

despite the grills being new. They looked too old. That can't be right, I said. The serial number matches, as does the product description. The packages probably just got roughed up during transport. Let's get back to the store, he said. So we turned around and returned in the same direction from which we came. Again, we passed the aisles,

with the numbers randomly counting down. but they weren't the same numbers we'd passed on our last journey. You sure we're going in the right direction? I asked. Yeah, our footprints are even still in the ground, he pointed out. He was right. They were definitely our footprints, but they didn't match the numbers on the aisles anymore, as we've been walking in circles despite having moved in a straight line. Then we noticed something that froze us in place,

a fresh track of footprints crossing our own, three sets walking perpendicular to our own path. There's someone else here? I half asked, half stated. Ray bent down to inspect them. His face turning pale as he realized they were ours. The patterns and sizes were identical. Even the distance between each step matched ours to a T.

The only mystery was who the third set belonged to. The second horrific realization was that the ground wasn't covered by dust at all, but fine ash. Let's just keep moving, I said nervously. We kept moving in a straight line, hoping to get out as soon as possible. Minutes passed, and we finally seemed to be reaching the, end of the warehouse. We followed our own tracks diligently, only stopping once we hit a wall. Where's the door? I asked in a panic. I don't know. This is where we came from. I swear, Ray said. The tracks just ended at the wall, as if we'd walk through the solid mass. Let's just walk along the

wall until we find an exit. It can't be that far, I suggested. We walked for another few minutes, only stopping as we came upon another set of tracks. This time, there were only two sets. One of them belonged to me, but the second set wasn't Reyes. My tracks are gone, he said. And someone else took your place. Fuck it, let's just call for help, he suggested as he pulled out his mobile. There's no signal. I pulled out my own. Same story. Not a single bar to indicate that we were connected to the outside world. Come on, let's keep moving, Ray finally said after an uncomfortable bout of silence. We strictly kept to the wall from there, but no matter how far we walked, no corner was ever reached. The wall just stretched on forever, and as minutes turned to hours, neither of us could

deny that something was terribly wrong. Still, what else could we do but search for a door? We had no choice but to walk until we inevitably landed upon another set of footsteps. They were ours, leading from the wall into the mess of aisles. How is this possible? Ray asked as he pointed to the tracks that seemingly had walked through the wall itself. But I couldn't give him an answer. I was exhausted from the trek and rid of any ideas. Ray started following the tracks, and I walked diligently behind him until I realized just how messed up the idea of following our own footprints were. Ray, I don't think we should follow them, I said. He didn't respond.

He just kept walking along, and I was too much of a coward to stand up to him. No sooner had we started following the tracks that I started to feel something or someone was watching us. In the corner of my eyes, I could see dark figures slide between the aisles, letting out audible, deep breaths. I glanced over at Ray, who looked absolutely horrified. I didn't even have to ask if he'd heard them too. We quickened our pace, following the steps around another aisle, only to stop dead in our tracks as we faced another solid wall. It's not possible. We were walking away from here, Ray said.

To the side, we could see our own tracks crossing over each other. What's that? I said as I pointed to something leaning. against the wall in the distance. We rushed over, quickly realizing that we'd stumbled upon another person, dead and decaying from what must have been months, if not years. Due to the dry climate, the body had practically been mummified, but the clothes still remained. Clothes I immediately recognized as rays. The only difference was that his shoes were missing. He just stared at the body in disbelief, but something else caught my attention, two tracks leading away from the body,

One of them mine, another belonging to a stranger. I'm not sure what was going on inside Ray's mind, but as if a switch flicked. He just started jogging along the tracks, going deeper into the warehouse. Ray, what are you doing? I called out as I jogged after him. Neither of us was in particularly good shape,

but he somehow managed to keep going. Even as my own pace slowed, he kept moving away, slowly getting out of sight. I just about caught a glimpse of his silhouette as I darted around one of the shelves. I followed in his direction, turning around the same aisle as he just passed, only to be met by another wall, and Ray's footprints vanishing where it ended. Ray! I yelled, but no one would respond.

Instead I turned, seeing freshly printed steps on the ground, walking deeper into the warehouse. With a feeling of overwhelming defeat, I decided to follow the tracks, knowing that I had nothing else to go on. The further I walked, the more footprints I'd see deviate away from the chosen path. Some were small, some large, and a few were bare feet pressed upon the ground. Up until then, I just assumed that they had all been created by humans. But once I finally got a good look at the prince, I realized just how emaciated the person must have been, as if each step had been created by a skin wrapped around skeleton without muscle or fat.

The further I ventured, the more of the steps appeared, as if piranhas closing in on their victim, circling around until there was no escape. In my periphery, I could see sickly. creatures vanishing into the darkness, gathering numbers. Then I froze. I'd been walking in a straight line for more than an hour, away from where I'd found Ray's corpse, yet there it lay. Somehow more ancient than ever before, as if years had passed since I last saw it. I kept walking, the footprints increasing a number, the shadows in my periphery getting braver. Hours passed,

maybe even days before I finally collapsed from exhaustion. I pulled out my phone and turned it on for the last time, praying for a single bar of signal. nothing. As a last resort and the wake of defeat, I decided to write down a message. I have a lighter in my pocket, and as a last act on this planet, I will burn this godforsaken warehouse down, so that no one else suffers the same fate as us. Whatever these creatures are, I'm not letting them get me alive. But I have to be quick. They're getting so close now. I can hear them growl. I hope the phone survives the fire so that at least someone outside knows what happened to us. Hey, guys, be sure to check out my new podcast called Dr.

SCP for more interesting stories. It's 100% inspired by the SCP Foundation. If you'd like to check it out, just search Dr. SCP in the search bar on Spotify or Apple Podcasts. Lasagne sur-gillet, puissance-molyne for 15 minutes. We're like to dojo. Pre-to-jew?

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