I was drowning in debt and completely desperate for money so I started looking for overnight work to support my day job. I found a listing online for a night-shift security cleaner at an isolated antique furniture restoration warehouse located on the outskirts of town. The pay was ridiculously high and the requirements were minimal so I drove out there the next day to meet the owner for an interview. His name was Vincent and he was a wealthy antique dealer who spoke very softly and dressed in expensive tailored suits that looked completely out of place in a dusty warehouse. He walked me through the building during our interview and showed me endless rows of Victorian couches and mahogany dining tables covered in protective plastic sheeting. Vincent explained that the job was mostly just polishing the restored furniture and sweeping the concrete floors to keep the dust settling to a minimum so the antiques stayed pristine for his buyers. Then he took me down a freight elevator to the basement and the doors opened to reveal a massive space filled with dozens of tall mirrors covered in thick canvas tarps. "This is the storage room for our fragile glass pieces," Vincent told me while we stood in the dim light of the basement. "You need to sweep down here twice a week but there is a very strict rule you must follow at all times." I asked him what the rule was and he looked at me with completely dead eyes that made my skin crawl. "You are never to remove the tarps to clean the glass," Vincent said calmly while pointing to a massive mirror in the corner. "If a tarp accidentally slips off a mirror while you are sweeping you must immediately turn off the room's lights and then you must leave the basement without looking at your reflection. Do you understand the rule?" I told him I understood perfectly and just assumed the mirrors were incredibly valuable or maybe the old silver backing was sensitive to light exposure. The pay was simply too good to argue about a weird cleaning protocol so I took the job on the spot and started working that very same night. For a few weeks the job was completely uneventful and actually pretty relaxing. I showed up at midnight and listened to podcasts while I polished old wood and swept the floors across the different levels of the warehouse. The building was completely isolated and quiet so I got used to the routine of being alone with thousands of old chairs and cabinets. I always went down to the basement on Tuesdays and Thursdays to sweep around the mirrors and I always made sure to keep my broom far away from the canvas tarps so I wouldn't accidentally break Vincent's one strict rule. Then my Thursday shift happened and everything fell apart. I took my broom down to the basement storage room to sweep the floors around the mirrors just like I always did. I was walking between two large items when the edge of my boot caught the bottom of a loose canvas tarp hanging off a frame. My foot dragged the fabric as I stepped forward and the tarp slid smoothly off an ornate Victorian mirror before crumpling into a pile on the floor. I panicked immediately because I really needed this job and I didn’t want Vincent to find out I messed up his storage arrangement and fire me, so Instead of following his specific rule to turn off the lights and leave the room I rushed forward to grab the canvas off the floor so I could cover the mirror back up quickly. I grabbed the fabric and threw it back over the tall glass frame but in that split second of movement I accidentally caught my reflection in the glass. But it was not my reflection staring back at me. I froze completely and dropped the tarp back onto the floor as I stared at the glass in shock. Staring back at me was a terrified young woman with dark hair and a highly distinct swallow tattoo on the right side of her neck. Her eyes were wide with panic and her mouth was moving frantically in silent screams as she slammed her fists against the inside of the glass. There was no sound coming from the mirror but I could clearly see the sheer terror on her face as she begged for help from inside the reflection. I was absolutely horrified so I backed away from the mirror until I hit the cold wall of the basement. I convinced myself that the extreme isolation and the late hours were making me hallucinate from sleep deprivation and stress. I reached out blindly and hit the light switch to plunge the room into darkness and then I ran to the freight elevator to go back upstairs to the main floor. I spent the rest of my shift sitting in the breakroom trying to calm my racing heart because I truly thought my fear of breaking Vincent's weird rule had just caused a massive panic attack. The next evening I stopped at a local gas station to grab a coffee before my shift and ran into a guy named Karim who worked the registers. I was standing by the creamer station stirring my cup when I looked at the community bulletin board hanging on the wall near the restrooms and my stomach dropped straight into my shoes. Pinned to the center of the corkboard was a missing person flyer and the photo on the paper matched the woman in the mirror perfectly. It was the exact same face and the exact same swallow tattoo on her neck so I knew immediately that I wasn't losing my mind. Her name was Isla and the flyer said she had been missing for three months. "Hey Karim," I called out while pointing at the flyer on the board. "Do you know anything about this missing girl?" Karim leaned over the counter and looked at the paper before shaking his head. "Yeah that is a sad story man. She vanished a few months ago and the police have been putting those flyers up everywhere but nobody has seen her since she went missing." I bought my coffee and hurried out to my car so I could sit in the driver's seat and pull out my phone to search her name online. I found several local news articles about her disappearance and the details made my blood run cold. The articles stated she was last seen walking near a wealthy gated community on the north side of town and I recognized the street name immediately because it was the exact neighborhood where Vincent lived. The article mentioned that the police had interviewed several neighbors in the area including a prominent antique dealer but no leads were found and the case eventually went cold. My suspicion mounted rapidly because the coincidence was simply too massive to ignore and I realized my mind was not playing tricks on me in that basement. I saw a real missing person trapped inside that glass and I knew I had to go back and figure out what Vincent was hiding in his warehouse. I drove to the warehouse for my shift and clocked in at midnight but I didn’t bother grabbing my polishing rags or my broom. I walked straight to the freight elevator and rode it down to the basement before turning on the overhead lights and walking directly to the ornate Victorian mirror. I grabbed the canvas tarp and pulled it completely off the glass so I could look inside. I stared into the mirror and saw nothing but my own pale reflection standing in the empty basement so I waited for a few minutes but the girl didn’t appear. I stepped closer to the glass to examine the surface and placed my hand against the cold mirror to see if there was some kind of hidden screen behind it. Suddenly a massive crack split the center of the mirror with a loud popping sound that echoed through the basement. The glass fractured into dozens of jagged pieces but they didn’t fall out of the frame and through the broken shards the reflection changed entirely. I was looking at a vision of Isla crammed into a very tight and dark wooden space. She was curled into a tight fetal position and she was struggling desperately to breathe while her fingers were bloody from scratching at the wooden panels surrounding her. I watched her gasp for air in sheer agony as the vision slowly faded back into my own reflection in the broken glass. I stepped back and thought about what I just saw while trying to process the horrifying details of the vision. The dark space surrounding her was made of old polished wood and it looked exactly like the inside of a large piece of furniture. She was trapped inside an antique armoire and I knew exactly where Vincent stored all the large wooden cabinets in the warehouse. I ran to the freight elevator and took it up to the third floor since this level was dedicated entirely to large wooden wardrobes and armoires waiting to be shipped. I went to the maintenance closet and grabbed a long steel pry bar from the tool rack before walking out into the main storage area. The overhead lights were off so I used my phone flashlight to navigate the endless rows of towering wooden cabinets that stretched across the dark warehouse floor. I walked up to the first armoire and jammed the pry bar into the seam of the wooden doors before pulling back hard to snap the old brass lock. I pulled the doors open and shined my light inside but it was completely empty so I moved onto the next one. I broke the lock on the second cabinet and found nothing but dust so I went down the entire row breaking open every single cabinet I could find because I was running on pure adrenaline and terror. I finally reached a massive mahogany armoire wrapped in thick shipping chains sitting at the very end of the back aisle. I wedged the pry bar under the chains and worked them loose until they clattered loudly to the concrete floor and then I forced the pry bar into the doors and pulled with all my strength. The doors popped open with a loud crunch and a terrible smell rolled out into the aisle that smelled like rotten meat. I shined my phone light inside the cabinet and immediately clamped my hand over my mouth to stop myself from vomiting all over the floor. Crammed inside the armoire was the actual decaying corpse of the woman from the flyer. Isla was bound tightly in thick ropes and her knees were pulled up to her chest just like she was positioned in the vision from the mirror. Her skin was gray and her dead eyes were staring blankly out at the warehouse floor while her swallow tattoo was clearly visible on her rotting neck. Suddenly the overhead lights for the entire third floor slammed on with a loud electrical buzz that blinded me for a second. I dropped my pry bar and it rang loudly against the concrete as I heard slow deliberate footsteps echoing from the main stairwell behind me. I turned around and saw Vincent walking casually down the aisle between the cabinets. He was wearing a dark suit and he held a long hunting knife in his right hand while he stopped about twenty feet away and looked at the open armoires. "I specifically told you not to look under the tarps," Vincent said in his soft calm voice while tracing the edge of the knife with his thumb. "It is so hard to find reliable help these days and I really thought you would be good at following simple instructions." I backed away from the armoire until my shoulders hit the wall and I kept my eyes locked on Vincent while I slowly slid my right hand into my jacket pocket with my phone between my fingers. I used my thumb to blindly press the side buttons to activate the emergency SOS feature that automatically dials 911. I felt the phone vibrate once to confirm the call was connecting and I left my hand deep in my pocket so the emergency dispatcher could hear everything we were saying. "What did you do to her?" I asked loudly so my voice would be clear for the phone microphone hidden in my pocket. "Why is there a dead body locked in this cabinet?" Vincent sighed and took a slow step closer while pointing the knife toward the armoire. "It is a very lucrative business model actually and you would be surprised by how much money is involved. There is a massive underground market of wealthy twisted collectors who want to buy authentically haunted antiques for their private collections. They pay millions for a piece of furniture that actually contains a tortured soul so I just use a very old dark ritual to trap their souls inside the mirror glass at the exact moment they die in the armoires." "You murdered her just to sell a haunted mirror to some rich psychos?" I yelled while pressing my back firmly against the wall and hoping the police were tracing my phone location. "I have murdered quite a few people to sell mirrors and it got me a lot of money and a very comfortable life," Vincent corrected me casually while taking another step forward. "You look like a poor guy who is drowning in debt and you clearly need money to survive so I will offer you a choice right now. You can help me move this body to the incinerator down the hall and join my business or I will kill you right here and put you in the next mirror to sell to a client in Europe." "I don't want your money," I said and I slowly edged sideways along the wall to put some distance between us. "The police are going to find out what you are doing because you cannot hide missing people forever." "The police have already investigated me and they found absolutely nothing because they are incompetent," Vincent smiled and he raised the knife up to his chest. "You are just nobody working the night shift and nobody is going to miss you when you vanish." He lunged forward and slashed the knife toward my chest but I dodged to the left and the blade scraped against the wall throwing sparks into the air. I shoved a nearby wooden chair directly into his legs to trip him and then I sprinted down the aisle toward the stairwell as fast as I could run. "You cannot run out of here!" Vincent shouted as he recovered and chased after me down the aisle. "The doors are locked from the inside and I have the keys so you are trapped in here with me!" I ran down the stairs taking them three at a time until I reached the second floor and burst through the doors into a massive maze of dining tables and stacked chairs. The warehouse was incredibly large and filled with deep shadows so I dove under a large dining table covered in a long cloth drape to hide. I crawled to the center of the table and pulled my knees to my chest while I held my breath and listened for any sounds of pursuit. I heard the stairwell door open and Vincent's slow footsteps began clicking rhythmically on the floorboards as he walked into the room. "I know you are hiding in here somewhere," Vincent called out softly while tapping the blade of his knife against a wooden table. "You are only making this harder on yourself so just come out and I will make it quick." I stayed perfectly still under the table and prayed my phone was still connected to 911. I heard him walking down the aisles and knocking chairs over as he searched the area looking for me. I knew the dispatcher had heard his confession but I had no idea how long it would take the police to arrive at this isolated place on the edge of town. "I can hear you breathing in the dark," Vincent said as his footsteps moved closer to the aisle where I was hiding. "I am going to find you and then I am going to make sure your soul stays in this building forever." He started flipping tables over in the next aisle and the crashing sounds echoed loudly through the cavernous space. I looked around under the tablecloth and saw an old brass lamp sitting on the floor nearby so I reached out slowly and grabbed the base to use as a weapon if he found me. Vincent's footsteps stopped right next to the table where I was hiding and I saw the toes of his expensive leather shoes peeking under the edge of the cloth drape. He stood there for a few seconds in total silence and then he slowly reached down to grab the fabric so he could pull it away and expose me. Suddenly the warehouse parking lot lit up with flashing red and blue lights that shined through the high windows and painted the walls in with their colors. The sound of multiple police sirens pierced the quiet night and I heard car doors slamming outside followed by heavy fists pounding on the main glass entrance doors on the ground floor. Vincent froze and dropped the edge of the tablecloth before stepping back from my hiding spot. I heard him curse loudly and then his footsteps sprinted away toward the back loading dock at the rear of the building. "Police department!" a voice yelled from the front of the building downstairs. "We are breaching the doors so step away from the entrance!" The main glass entrance shattered loudly and multiple officers rushed into the warehouse shouting commands and shining bright flashlights across the dark rooms. I scrambled out from under the table and threw my hands in the air so they wouldn't shoot me by mistake. "I am the one who called!" I screamed at the top of my lungs while waving my arms to get their attention. "I called 911 from my pocket and the owner has a knife and he is running toward the back loading dock to escape!" Two officers ran up the stairs to secure me while five others chased after Vincent through the warehouse aisles. They caught him trying to pry open a rolling cargo door in the back and tackled him hard to the floor. He didn’t put up much of a fight once the guns were pointed at his head and they slapped the handcuffs on his wrists while reading him his rights. I told the officers about the corpses on the third floor and the mirrors in the basement so they called for backup and crime scene investigators. More police units arrived quickly and they began searching the entire warehouse from top to bottom while I sat in the back of an ambulance giving my official statement to a detective. They found Isla's body in the armoire just like I told them and then they started opening the other cabinets in the storage rows. Over the course of the night they found ten different corpses crammed into various antique wardrobes and trunks scattered across the third floor. They were all missing people who had vanished across the years and Vincent had kept them hidden in plain sight while selling their trapped souls to his sick clients. The sun was starting to come up and fill the parking lot with morning light when the lead detective finally told me I was free to go home. I walked toward the front exit to leave but I asked an officer if I could go down to the basement to grab my jacket first because it was freezing outside. He agreed and escorted me down the freight elevator before standing by the door while I walked into the mirror storage room to get my things. The tarps had been pulled off several mirrors during the police search and they were all exposed to the bright overhead lights. I grabbed my jacket from a folding chair in the corner and looked back at the mirror where I first saw Isla screaming for help. I looked into the glass and Isla was standing there in the reflection but she was no longer screaming or trapped in a dark wooden box. She looked peaceful and calm as she stared back at me. I glanced around at the other mirrors in the room and saw the faint reflections of the other victims standing quietly in the glass. They all looked directly at me and they were smiling. I blinked and the reflections disappeared entirely leaving only my own tired face staring back at me in the empty glass. I turned around and walked out of the warehouse. submitted by /u/gamalfrank [link] [comments]
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