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| Jakarta |
Haunted office buildings in Indonesia
Fifteen years have passed, and I've changed jobs three times. In both my first and last workplaces, I often heard stories from colleagues about ghost sightings, yet I never experienced anything myself. I even boasted, "Why do I never get haunted? I want to see something too!" Despite my bravado, I remained ghost-free - perhaps the spirits didn't want to waste their time scaring me.
However, at my second job, I experienced two distinct encounters. They weren't particularly frightening, more playful than anything else.
My second workplace was a newly established motorcycle finance company in Jakarta around 2009. The admin team consisted of just two people, making our workload enormous. We often worked late to meet the input targets for billing into the system.
Given our need for rest, my colleague and I agreed to alternate who stayed late each night. If I worked late on Monday, my colleague would take Tuesday. One night, it was my turn to work late. Around 7:30 PM, no collector had arrived to submit their installments.
I was alone on the second floor, engrossed in my work. Suddenly, a shadow appeared beside me, as if someone was standing behind my chair, watching me write. Startled, I turned around and asked, "Who's there?"
Of course, no one was there. The floor was empty, and I would have known if someone had come up since I faced the stairs. Realizing I was "accompanied" by something invisible, I muttered, "Thanks for keeping me company, but don't scare someone concentrating! What if I had a heart attack?" I then resumed my work, slightly annoyed but unfazed.
The second incident also occurred during overtime on the second floor. The office, which resembled a house rather than a commercial space, had a balcony overlooking the back garden. My desk was positioned with my back to this balcony.
As I typed, I heard footsteps pacing back and forth on the balcony behind me. "Is there a collector already here, hanging out on the balcony?" I wondered, confused because no one had come up the stairs. I turned to check the balcony, but it was empty, the night sky providing the only backdrop.
Frowning in bewilderment, I returned to my work, assuming it was a hallucination due to exhaustion. But then, the footsteps started again. I spun around, but again, silence and an empty balcony greeted me. Determined to catch the prankster, I checked the balcony thoroughly, but it was completely deserted.
Puzzled, I went back to my desk. The footsteps resumed, stopping only when I turned around. This happened three times. Frustrated, I shouted, "Enough! Why keep pacing? Aren't you tired?"
After my outburst, the footsteps ceased, and I continued my work in peace.
Despite these two encounters, they never instilled fear in me. They seemed more like minor annoyances, a ghostly presence trying to make itself known without any malicious intent. Life continued normally at work, and I began to accept these disturbances as part of the job.
One evening, a few weeks later, I found myself working late again. The office was eerily quiet, the only sound being the soft tapping of my keyboard. The air felt heavy, and I sensed a change in the atmosphere. The room seemed colder, and I could feel goosebumps rising on my skin.
I shrugged off the feeling and focused on my work. But then, the soft sound of a toilet flushing echoed through the silence. I froze, my heart pounding in my chest. The restroom was at the end of the hallway, far from where I sat, and I was certain no one else was in the building.
"Maybe it's just the plumbing acting up," I tried to rationalize, but my gut told me otherwise.
I decided to investigate, my curiosity outweighing my fear. I walked slowly down the hallway, each step echoing ominously. The door to the restroom was ajar, and the light inside flickered intermittently. I pushed the door open, half expecting to see someone standing there, but it was empty.
The room smelled faintly of something metallic, like old rust. I checked each stall, my heart racing with each creak of the doors. Nothing. I sighed in relief, but as I turned to leave, I heard a whisper, soft and unintelligible, coming from behind me.
I spun around, my eyes scanning the empty restroom. "Hello? Is anyone there?" My voice echoed, sounding small and insignificant. The whispering continued, growing louder, more insistent. It felt like a chorus of voices, all speaking at once, yet I couldn't make out any words.
I backed out of the restroom, my heart hammering in my chest. As soon as I stepped into the hallway, the whispering stopped. The oppressive silence returned, and I hurried back to my desk, determined to finish my work quickly and leave.
The rest of the night passed without incident, but I couldn't shake the feeling that I wasn't alone. The air felt charged with an unseen presence, and every creak and groan of the old building set my nerves on edge. Finally, I finished my work and hurried out of the office, locking the door behind me with a sense of relief.
Over the next few days, I couldn't stop thinking about what had happened. I asked my colleague if she had ever experienced anything similar, but she just laughed it off. "You're probably just tired. Overtime can do that to you," she said dismissively.
But I knew what I had heard. The footsteps, the whispering, the feeling of being watched - it was all too real. I started to dread working late, but with our heavy workload, there was no avoiding it.
A week later, it was my turn to work late again. I steeled myself, determined not to let my imagination get the better of me. As the night wore on, I found myself constantly glancing over my shoulder, expecting to see someone standing there.
Around 10 PM, I heard the sound of a door creaking open. My heart leapt into my throat as I turned to see the door to the storage room slowly swinging open. The storage room was always kept locked, and I knew I hadn't unlocked it.
I got up cautiously and approached the door. As I peered inside, a cold draft hit me, sending shivers down my spine. The room was dark, the only light coming from the hallway behind me. I fumbled for the light switch and flicked it on.
The room was a mess. Boxes were scattered everywhere, files strewn across the floor. It looked like someone had ransacked the place. My eyes were drawn to a dark corner of the room, where the shadows seemed to move and shift on their own.
Suddenly, a loud crash echoed through the room as a stack of boxes toppled over. I jumped back, my heart pounding in my ears. "Who's there?" I demanded, my voice trembling. There was no response, just the sound of my own ragged breathing.
I backed out of the room, leaving the light on. As I returned to my desk, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was watching me, lurking in the shadows, waiting for the right moment to reveal itself.
The next day, I reported the incident to my boss. He seemed concerned but skeptical. "We'll get the locks checked," he assured me, but I could tell he didn't fully believe me.
Weeks passed without further incident, but the atmosphere at work remained tense. The other employees started to notice small things - items going missing, cold spots in the office, and strange noises in the middle of the day. Everyone began to feel uneasy, but no one could explain what was happening.
Scary work experience
One evening, as I was working late yet again, I heard a faint, rhythmic tapping sound. It seemed to be coming from the office next door. I tried to ignore it, but it grew louder, more insistent. Finally, I couldn't take it anymore and went to investigate.
I opened the door to the adjacent office and saw a shadowy figure standing in the corner. My blood ran cold as I realized it was the source of the tapping. The figure was tall and indistinct, its form shifting like smoke. It turned towards me, and I felt a wave of dread wash over me.
I tried to speak, but my voice caught in my throat. The figure took a step towards me, and I stumbled back, slamming the door shut. I ran back to my desk, my heart racing, and grabbed my things. I had to get out of there.
As I rushed out of the building, I could feel the presence following me, its eyes boring into my back. I didn't stop running until I was safely in my car, driving away from the office as fast as I could.
The next day, I handed in my resignation. I couldn't take it anymore. Whatever was haunting that office was beyond my understanding, and I didn't want to be there to find out what it was.
Looking back, I realize how naive I was to dismiss the stories of my colleagues. The supernatural is real, and it can be terrifying. Those experiences have stayed with me, a constant reminder that some things are better left unseen and unexplored.
In the years since, I've found a new job in a different city. It's a normal office, with normal people, and no signs of anything otherworldly. But every now and then, when I'm working late, I can't help but glance over my shoulder, half-expecting to see a shadowy figure standing there, watching me.