Aisle 13 (PG-13)

The rumors said this Walmart was haunted - that it was built on an old Indian burial ground, or one of the construction workers hanged himself from the rafters, or a murderer used the wet concrete to bury his victims. Really, pretty much any creepy ghost story you could think of, it was told about this store at some point.

The details changed every time the tale was told, but one thing remained constant - the whole thing was a load of BS, concocted by the old-timers to scare the new guys working the late shift.

Sure, the store could be a little creepy when it was pretty much empty and no one else was around, but that didn't equal "haunted," so when the old geezers tried to warn me off from working the midnight shift on Halloween, I just shrugged them off. If they wanted get their laughs from watching the new kid freak out, well, they'd have to choose someone else.

So when Halloween rolled around a week later and I was stuck manning the single open checkout lane, I tried my best to treat it like any other late shift. For some reason (probably because those stupid rumors had spread pretty far), the store was even more empty than normal, and starting 'round about eleven thirty or so, even the few shoppers that had showed up cleared out. With them gone, the store seemed even more deathly quiet than usual, and every sudden noise made me jump a little, but I just kicked myself for letting the stories get under my skin.

Still, I rang up Scott over the intercom, mostly to hear the sound of another person's voice and reassure myself that there wasn't anything actually creepy going on.

"Command to Scott, come in, Scotty, this is command, what's your status, over..."

After waiting a few seconds, I was about to try again when the intercom crackled on.

"Dude, I'm trying to do some actual work here. Maybe you've got nothing to do, but I've got shelves to stock, so either come back and be helpful or stop bugging me, man!"

I chuckled to myself - yeah, everything was normal. Scott was way more easily freaked out than me, and if he was ripping into me just like usual, everything was cool. With a shake of my head at my own stupidity in letting some ghost story get me worked up, I grabbed a tabloid off the rack and settled in to survive another boring shift. (Yes, a tabloid, cut a guy some slack, there was nothing else to do and I was easily bored.)

Midnight got slowly closer, and I caught myself glancing down at my watch as it approached, because according to the stories, that's when all the freaky stuff would go down. Something about the barrier between the spirit world and ours being weakest then, I thought, but I hadn't really been paying much attention to the details.

I found myself tensing up and counting down the last few seconds in my head - "Five, four, three, two, one..." As midnight hit, I listened intently for anything out of the ordinary. There was nothing, and after a couple seconds I started laughing at myself. Of course there was nothing - they were just stories.

So when the intercom suddenly started to hiss and pop, I nearly went through the roof.

"Cleanup in Aisle 13... cleanup in Aisle 13..."

After a second I started breathing again - it was just a milk spill or something, not a ghost. I felt much better (and more than a little glad that no one had been around to see that), until it hit me.

There is no Aisle 13.

There's Aisle 12, with the cleaning supplies, and then there's the milk and dairy aisle, but that isn't numbered. Aisle 13 doesn't exist (at least not in this world, my subconscious helpfully added).

But rather than freak out again, I decided it was probably just Scott messing with me, trying to get back at me for bugging him. After all, he'd heard the stories too, and he'd get a huge laugh out of making me jump.

So I headed for the back of the store, figuring that he'd be waiting in one of the aisles, maybe with a scary mask or one of those voice distorters that makes you sound all spooky. As I passed Aisle 10, the lights began to flicker, and then the bulbs in the one right above me blew, causing me to flinch. I kept on going, though. I wasn't going to run away because of a bit of faulty wiring.

And then I stopped and stared, because there it was - Aisle 13. The aisle that shouldn't have existed. But it was there, numbered with a giant hanging sign just like all the aisles before it.

I moved cautiously forward to peer down it, wondering what I'd find, my mind creating all sorts of horrible scenarios. But I was surprised to find that it looked very normal, aside from the fact that it shouldn't have been there at all.

It appeared to be full of Halloween decorations, with tombstones lining the lower shelves, and spider webs and skull masks hanging from the hooks, along with tattered black robes and giant spiders. And when I poked at the closest mask to make sure it was just a decoration, sure enough, it was plastic.

I started to wonder again if this whole thing wasn't just an elaborate practical joke - maybe Scott had messed with the aisle signs and set this whole thing up. And looking down the aisle, I could see that there was a mess at the far end, so I squared my shoulders and stepped into the aisle to do the cleanup.

As soon as I crossed the threshold of the aisle, I felt a shiver run down my spine, and the shelves appeared to grow suddenly taller and the shadows suddenly darker, but I kept on moving. The aisle seemed to grow as well, stretching out longer and longer as I walked resolutely down it, until I started to wonder if my mind was playing tricks on me.

Finally, I was able to make out more details of the mess on the floor - it looked like one of the plastic skeletons, dressed in one of the more raggedy costumes. Scott had really gone all out on this...

But the closer I got, the more real that thing looked, until I was standing right in front of it, and reached out tentatively to touch it. And as my fingers felt real bone, not plastic, I noticed it, pinned to the remnants of a tattered blue vest, reflecting the cold light of the fluorescent bulbs overhead - a nametag, just like mine. It read, "Scott."

It was real, it was all real, and I was standing in front of the bones of my friend.

As I stood there in horror, I heard a noise behind me, the sound of something slithering across the bare tile, coming slowly and steadily closer. It was coming for me, whatever had killed Scott, the monster of Aisle 13.

Without looking behind, I turned and ran, but the aisle seemed to grow even faster now, the ends moving away more swiftly than I could move. I could hear it behind me the whole time, pacing me, waiting. And as I began to pant for breath, and finally could run no more, I knew it was hopeless. There was no escape - I would become the next skeleton on the floor, to draw yet another unwary employee to their death.

But at least I could meet my death like a man.

So I stopped my futile flight, and, squaring my shoulders, turned to face the monster.


FINIS