Hey everyone. I don’t usually post stuff like this, but I need to get this out before I talk myself out of it. Something’s happening at my job, and I don’t think we’re supposed to be asking questions.

I work at a warehouse. Not a retail place—a distribution center for appliances. Used to be called Key Boston back in the day, but now it’s “New England Appliance Group.” Same building, same layout, just a new name slapped on the paperwork. We don’t sell anything directly; we just store and ship. Nothing interesting.

Except… there’s this one spot. This one section of the floor. And after what happened today, I’m starting to think we’ve been storing something else, too.

THE BULGING FLOOR

I first noticed it a few months ago while moving pallets. A raised section of concrete, about four feet across. It’s subtle—if you aren’t looking for it, you might not notice. But if you run a pallet jack over it? You’ll feel it.

I asked some of the older guys about it. One of them, Mike, has been here for 25 years. He barely even looked up when I asked.

"Yeah. We stopped stacking there years ago."

"Why?"

"They keep fixing it. Keeps coming back."

That’s all he said.

IT’S BEEN HAPPENING FOR YEARS

So I start paying attention. I ask around. Most of the younger guys don’t care, but the ones who’ve been here a while? They don’t want to talk about it. Like, at all.

One night on break, I pressed an old-timer named Eddie. He got quiet, then told me:

"Back in the ‘90s, they ripped that whole section up. Big project. No one knew why."

"What’d they find?"

He shook his head.

"Don’t know. But they covered it with a steel plate. Bolted it down. And we were told not to ask."

THE PLATE IS COMING UP

Last week, management sent out a memo:

“Upcoming Floor Repair – Section O4L. Contractors will be removing outdated reinforcements and repouring the foundation. Please avoid the area during work hours.”

I asked my supervisor about it, jokingly. He just said “It’s time.”

Time for what?

THE NIGHT BEFORE THE DIG

Last night was my shift. Just a normal night—until about 2:30 AM. I was in the next section over when suddenly, the power flickered. The whole warehouse. Just for a second.

Then I noticed the smell.

It was like rotting meat and stagnant water. Heavy. Damp. Like something that had been sealed up for a long time was finally starting to leak out.

I wasn’t the only one who noticed. A couple of the night guys were standing near the bulging section of the floor, looking uneasy.

"Feel that?" one of them said.

I did. The ground was… humming. A slow, deep vibration, like something buried deep was shifting.

We cleared out of there.

TODAY: IT CAME THROUGH

They started digging at 9 AM.

I wasn’t there for the start, but I heard from a buddy that when they went to cut through the steel plate, half the bolts were already loose.

Like something had been pushing up from underneath.

By the time I clocked in, they had already lifted the plate. The hole underneath was deep. Way deeper than it should have been. One of the contractors said something about an “unlisted subbasement.” That doesn’t make sense—this place has no sublevels.

They sent one of the guys down to check. He didn’t come back up.

Not on his own.

The foreman went pale, got on his radio, and suddenly we were all told to clear the warehouse immediately. No explanation. Just get out.

I saw two of the contractors physically pulling the guy out of the hole. He wasn’t moving. I only caught a glimpse, but his face was gray, like he’d been down there for days. His hands were wet.

Something else came up with him.

I don’t know what I saw, but I swear to God it moved. Something dark, shiny, half-covered in dirt. Like it had been curled up down there for years.

We got sent home. No answers. Just go home, we’ll call you when we reopen.

THE WAREHOUSE IS CLOSED

Tonight, there are trucks outside. Black ones. No company logos.

No one is saying anything. No one is explaining what they found.

But one of the old guys—Tim, the one who’s been here forever—sent me a text a few minutes ago.

"They shouldn’t have touched it."

FOLLOW-UP: IT GOT OUT. AND IT’S HUNTING.

(Posted by u/ForkliftGhost – 1 day ago, r/TrueHorrorStories)

Alright. I wasn’t going to post again. But I have to.

Something got out when they dug up the floor at my warehouse. I don’t know what it is, I don’t know how long it’s been down there, but I know this:

It’s alive.
It’s watching.
And it’s hunting.

THE NIGHT WE CAME BACK

When the warehouse reopened, everyone acted like nothing had happened. But I could tell something was off.

The air felt thicker. The lights seemed dimmer. The new concrete they poured over O4L looked smooth—but something about it made my skin crawl. Like it wasn’t meant to be walked on.

And then there was the smell.

It’s faint, but it’s still there—damp, rotting, ancient. Like something deep in the ocean that’s never seen the surface.

I asked one of the guys, Dave, if he smelled it. He just shook his head and muttered, "It’s still here."

THE FIRST SIGHTING

Three nights ago, one of the newer guys, Justin, went to grab something from the back storage racks. He never came back.

We found him maybe ten minutes later, just standing in one of the aisles, staring at the concrete. His face was pale, his eyes were wide and unfocused.

"Justin?"

He didn’t react.

I touched his shoulder.

The second my hand made contact, he jerked back like he’d been shocked and gasped like he’d been underwater too long.

"Did you see it?" he whispered.

"See what?"

He just shook his head, trembling. Refused to talk after that. Management sent him home early. He hasn’t come back.

THE THING BETWEEN THE RACKS

I saw it last night.

I was moving pallets near the back when I heard something shift behind me. Not the sound of a person. Something bigger.

I turned around.

For a second, I thought I was imagining it—the space between the racks looked… wrong. Darker than it should be.

But then something moved.

Low to the ground. Long. Too many joints.

I froze. I didn’t breathe.

I didn’t see eyes, but I felt them.

Then, just as I forced myself to move—it slid back into the shadows.

IT KNOWS WE LET IT OUT

I don’t know how long it was buried under there. Decades? Centuries? But I do know this:

It’s not confused.
It’s not scared.
It’s patient.

And now that it’s free, it’s learning.

It doesn’t bother the managers. It doesn’t bother the contractors. It’s watching us—the ones who work late, the ones who saw too much.

I think it’s waiting.

And the worst part?

We’re trapped in here with it.