It was around 2:15 a.m. on a rainy Thursday night. I remember the exact time because I’d just checked the clock on the kitchen wall, wondering how much longer until my shift ended. I was tired, a little sick of the smell of fryer grease, and the rain outside made everything feel heavier. I was working the overnight shift at a 24-hour McDonald’s, one of those older locations on the edge of town—the kind you wouldn’t stop at unless you were desperate or drunk.
I was 22, just out of college, trying to earn some extra money before figuring out what to do with my life. The night shifts paid more, and it wasn’t usually busy. Most people avoided our location after midnight anyway. The lot lights barely worked, one of the front neon signs flickered on and off, and the neighborhood had a weird reputation. Still, money was money, and I figured I could tough it out.
There were just three of us working that night—me, Jose the cleaner, and Claire, the store manager. Claire was in the back office doing paperwork, and Jose was mopping near the restrooms. I was at the grill, flipping patties and mindlessly restocking sauces, just trying to stay awake. The place was quiet. Too quiet.
At exactly 2:37 a.m., the drive-thru headset crackled to life. I hadn’t heard a car pull up, and the monitor screen didn’t show anything at first. But then I heard a voice—low, quiet, and strangely calm. “Hello?” it said. Just that. Nothing else.
I grabbed the headset and responded like normal. “Hey, welcome to McDonald’s. What can I get started for you?” I expected the usual—double cheeseburger, maybe fries—but the voice didn’t answer right away. There was a pause, and then some static.
Then, the voice returned. “You see it, don’t you?” it asked.
I frowned. “Sorry? See what?”
Another pause. Longer this time. Then, through the crackling static, the man’s voice came again—clearer now. “The thing watching you in the freezer.”
I froze. Completely forgot about the grill, the food, everything. My eyes shifted toward the walk-in freezer at the back of the kitchen. It was closed, nothing unusual about it. But the way he said it—the tone—it made my stomach drop. My voice came out more nervous than I expected. “Alright, real funny. You want fries with your demon or just a Coke?”
The voice didn’t laugh. It didn’t change. It stayed flat and calm, like someone reading a bedtime story. “It watches from behind the beef boxes. Do not open the door.”
Then silence.
I stood there, headset still on, waiting for more. Nothing came. No goodbye, no order, no sound. I pulled off the headset and looked up at the drive-thru monitor. Still nothing. No headlights. No car. No one.
Jose peeked around the corner and asked, “Who was that?”
I shrugged, trying to play it cool even though my heart was racing. “Some weirdo. Probably just messing around.”
Jose didn’t look convinced. “That guy sounded… wrong.”
Then came the bang. Loud. Metallic. From the back.
Both of us jumped.
It came from the freezer door. A deep, echoing thud like someone—or something—had slammed their fist from the inside.
My stomach twisted. I forced a nervous laugh. “Maybe a box fell over.”
Jose didn’t laugh. “You don’t think…” he started, but didn’t finish the thought. Just looked at the freezer with wide eyes.
I grabbed the metal spatula I’d been using—like that would help—and said, “I’m gonna check it out. Just in case.”
Jose stepped back. “Don’t, man. Something feels off.”
But I was already walking.
The air felt heavy with each step. My sneakers squeaked against the floor, the only sound besides the soft hum of machines and distant thunder outside. The freezer loomed ahead of me like a vault door.
I stopped in front of it. Placed my hand on the cold handle.
My skin instantly felt like it was freezing.
I took a deep breath and yanked the door open fast, expecting a prankster or maybe just fallen boxes.
Nothing.
Just rows of frozen patties, buns, and sealed food containers stacked neatly.
I stepped inside.
The cold hit me like a wall.
My breath came out in foggy puffs. I scanned the freezer, walking past the first shelf. I still saw nothing unusual. Then I heard it.
Breathing.
Not mine.
Something wet, slow, and uneven.
It was coming from behind the last shelf, near the beef boxes.
I didn’t want to look.
But I did.
And I wish I hadn’t.
Something crouched low to the ground, just barely visible in the shadowy space beneath the bottom shelf. It wasn’t human—at least, not fully. Its skin was pale, almost gray. No hair. No clothes. Its limbs were too long, its joints bent the wrong way. And its mouth…
Its mouth stretched unnaturally wide, like someone had cut the sides open, and it was smiling. But not with joy. It was a hungry, grotesque grin.
Its eyes were the worst part.
They were empty sockets. Just black holes, wide and staring directly at me.
It didn’t move.
It just breathed.
I backed up, bumping into the wall. My hand fumbled for the emergency release lever. I yanked it hard, and the freezer door popped open with a loud hiss.
I burst out, slipping a little on the floor.
But the kitchen was empty.
Jose was gone.
I called out, panicked. “Jose?”
No answer.
I ran to the front, hoping to see him. Hoping he was just messing with me.
But the lobby was empty.
I looked down the hallway toward the restrooms. The floor was freshly mopped, the bucket still there, water slowly sloshing side to side like someone had just pushed it.
On the wall near the restrooms, written in what looked like ketchup, were four words:
IT KNOWS YOU SAW IT.
I backed away, heart thudding in my chest.
“Claire!” I yelled, running toward the back office.
But the door was wide open.
The chair was spinning slowly.
Her headset was on the desk, but she was gone too.
All the monitors—security cams, drive-thru feed, everything—were off. Just static on every screen.
Then the lights started flickering.
I felt like I was in a nightmare.
I ran to the front entrance, pushed the door open, and sprinted into the rain.
It was pouring. The kind of rain that feels like tiny needles on your skin.
I turned back and looked at the McDonald’s.
Every light was out.
The building looked abandoned.
Except… the McDonald’s sign above—the golden arches—still flickered, buzzing with electricity.
Then my phone vibrated in my pocket.
Blocked number.
I answered without thinking.
The same voice. Calm. Flat. Unnatural.
“You were told not to open the door.”
Click.
Dead line.
I stood there in the rain, trying to catch my breath, shivering from more than just the cold.
I ran across the street to a gas station and told the cashier to call the police.
They arrived within minutes.
I told them everything—about Jose, about Claire, about the freezer and the thing inside.
They didn’t believe me.
They searched the store. Found no one.
The freezer was empty.
The ketchup message? Gone.
And the security footage from 2:30 to 3:00 a.m.? Completely corrupted.
Static.
One officer pulled me aside and asked, “You said your manager’s name is Claire?”
I nodded.
“She died two weeks ago in a car crash. You sure that’s who you saw?”
I didn’t know what to say.
I had seen her. I talked to her earlier that shift. She handed me the keys. She walked into the office in front of me.
But now she was gone.
They eventually let me go.
I quit the next morning and never went back.
But it didn’t end there.
A few weeks later, someone messaged me on Reddit after I posted about it on a paranormal thread.
They said they worked at a different McDonald’s. Different state. Same time of night.
They got a drive-thru order at 2:37 a.m.
The voice said, “You see it, don’t you?”
They didn’t open the freezer.
But their coworker did.
He never came back.
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