Nunca Trabajaré En Una Morgue Historias De Terror - REDE

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The dead in the morgue. My
name is Alberto from a young age.

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I was a skeptical person, you
might even say something disrespectful as far as

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paranormal issues are concerned. My friends
and acquaintances used to express how horrified they

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would feel if they had my work
at the morgue. But for me,

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working in that place was any other
job. I had had that job since

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I was eighteen and until that time
it was the perfect job for me.

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I was twenty- six years old
when everything changed. My work consisted of

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the usual functions of a morgue,
receiving bodies, performing autopsies, documenting findings

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and preparing them for delivery to their
loved ones. Like I said, it

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was a quiet job as long as
it didn' t bother you to work

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with corpses. That day or a
new body came to the morgue victim of

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a horrible fateful accident by two Pitbull
dogs. His face was unrecognizable without a

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nose or lower lip. Despite the
crudeness of the body. That was not

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the most striking thing, but it
had the body completely full of tattoos related

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to Satanism. My colleagues in turn
made them very nervous, which is why

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I proposed to do the job on
my own, trying to feel braver than

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all of them. My colleagues accepted
and once they left me, I just

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stared at the body for a while
before starting the process. I don'

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t remember exactly what happened when something
caught my attention. A slight complaint barely

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saudible resonated in the room. I
turned my head to the sides looking for

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the sound source, but I only
found the room empty. I decided to

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ignore the sound and continue my tasks, but the whining persisted. This time.

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As I looked back, I noticed
that the blanket that covered the body

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had fallen to the ground. Intrigued
I approached to cover the body again,

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but while I was doing so I
saw something that left me breathless. The

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body' s eyes opened and stared
directly at me. The horror swept me

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from head to toe and an involuntary
scream escaped from my lips. One of

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my companions, alerted by my cry, ran into the room, but when

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the corpse arrived, it lay again
with its eyes closed as if nothing had

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happened. I tried to explain that
I thought I saw a rat, an

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absurd excuse that I didn' t
believe myself. For my fortune, my

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partner didn' t try to dig
into that much. The following days passed

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normally. Appearance. I tried to
forget the incident, convincing myself that it

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had been the product of my imagination. I also attributed it to my long

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shift and had even spent hours on
Internet forums investigating all kinds of things that

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a post- mortem body could do. That was my way of dealing with

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that strange event. It wasn'
t long before the routine broke again.

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Again, while performing the autopsy on
a body, I heard the same complaint.

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My heart accelerated, but this time
I resisted the temptation to turn my

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head. I chose to go on
with my work, ignoring the feeling that

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something was watching me. That decision
seemed to be yielding results in an instant.

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I could hear someone or something screaming
right in my ear. That made

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me even fall off the chair and
being on the floor, I realized that

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I was completely alone. I remember
one particular night, while I was alone,

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the room temperature dropped sharply. I
could even see my breath in the

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air. I felt as if they
were watching me from all directions trying to

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calm down I closed my eyes and
started counting from one to ten when I

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opened them all the drawers of the
amorgue were open, the bodies rested on

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their trays, but they all had
their heads turned in my direction, their

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dead eyes looked at me with a
disconcerting intensity. I wanted to run to

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the exit, but the door was
locked. A chilling laugh rang out in

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the room and the lights flashed before
they went out completely in the dark,

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the shadows came to life. The
laughter began to become more intense and the

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figures of the bodies rose from the
tables. They surrounded me slowly advancing as

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the laughter intensified. Desperate I screamed
for help, but my voice was lost

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in the room, plunged into darkness
and surrounded by laughter and whispers. Suddenly

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I felt a pressure on my shoulder
as if someone had taken it with a

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firm grip. My heart beat hard
and my survival instinct took desperate control.

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I tried to pull away the invisible
hand that held me, but my hands

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found only the cold, dense air
suddenly. Among all that noise, I

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heard a voice, it was the
voice of one of my co- workers,

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begging me to calm down. My
words barely escaped my lips. While

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trying to explain what happened. The
fear experienced hardly allowed me to articulate coherent

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phrases. That' s when I
noticed the lights were back, the room

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was lit and the temperature was back
to normal. I looked around still trembling

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from experience and realized that everything looked
like normal. The drawers were closed,

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the bodies rested on their trays and
there was no trace of what had just

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happened was as if I had never
witnessed the nightmare that I had just lived.

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My companions looked at me with concern
and skepticism, unable to understand the

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madness I had just experienced. As
I tried to find answers, my companions

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persuaded me to go home and rest
that night in the solitude of my home.

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I could not turn away from my
mind the horror I had experienced in

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the morgue all that happened. It
made me think maybe I was going crazy.

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I went over every detail of what
happened trying to find some logic in

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the nightmare I had lived through.
That' s when I remembered the man

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with the disfigured face and satanic tattoos. That corpse I had seen open my

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eyes seemed absurd to blame a corpse, but I could not find any other

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factor either. I refused to think
I was really going crazy. The days

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passed between confusion and fear, which
took over my life. After that event

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in the morgue I tried to lead
my life as normal as possible and although

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I always felt watched and some nights
were accompanied by nightmares, events seemed to

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have stopped. Things took a normal
restlessness. With the passing of days,

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I tried to resume my routine,
focus on work and drown my thoughts.

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In spite of everything, I became
cautious and avoided being alone as much as

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possible, but like all attempts to
control my environment. This measure proved to

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be temporary that particular day, had
been exhausting. The work accumulated until the

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end of the day and I was
on the verge of exhaustion. When fatigue

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weighed on me. I had avoided
being alone at all costs, but at

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that time I had no choice.
The others had retired or started doing their

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work leaving me alone. So I
tried to keep my mind occupied with day

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- to- day chores and paperwork, but no matter what I did.

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The tension in the air was overwhelming. As I dived into the documentation work,

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I began to feel the familiar feeling
of being observed again a chill swept

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through my spine, but I tried
to ignore it by attributing it to my

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own paranoia. That' s when
I heard a sound more than the usual

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whispers. This was a slight tinkling
of metal hitting the ground. I tried

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to rule it out as a product
of my tiredness, but the persistence of

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sound forced me to pay attention.
With caution. I turned my head toward

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the direction of the noise. To
my horror standing. Behind me was one

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of the corpses. He had been
involved in a motorcycle accident and his face

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was visibly scraped and disfigured. The
blanket that covered it was lying on the

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floor. His empty eyes looked at
me with malice and a diabolical smile formed

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on his torn lips. A chill
swept through my body, paralyzing my mind

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struggled to understand what I saw.
While my heart was pounding in my chest.

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The corpse began to laugh a dreadful
laugh that resonated in the morgue.

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My legs were shaking as I tried
to retreat, but I felt trapped in

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a dream. The laughter of the
corpse intensified, filling the room with a

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tense atmosphere. In an act of
despair, I closed my eyes tightly,

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begging for this nightmare to come to
an end. When he finally gathered the

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courage to open his eyes, the
room was silent, the body had returned

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to its place and the morgue seemed
to be back in its normality. The

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following nights were worse than ever.
The laughter of the corpse mingled with the

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nightmares that attacked me in the dark. Despite the intensity of the fear of

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making a fool of yourself. I
shared my experience with some of my companions,

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but their faces reflected disbelief and concern. The morgue for them remained only

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a place of work without shadows and
without unwanted presences. Every day that passed

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I felt my sanity slowly torn apart. The line between reality and fantasy disappeared.

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More and more, my nights became
a succession of torments. Sometimes I

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was in the morgue surrounded by laughter
and whispers and others. I could see

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some bodies turning their heads so I
could see myself when I pretended not to

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look, I was in despair.
The laughter and whispers continued and the only

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way to find anything like peace was
through sleeping pills that night. After taking

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the pills. I sank into a
deep sleep, but unlike the previous nights,

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this time the nightmare that enveloped me
was much worse. I was in

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the morgue, but this time I
had no control over my actions. I

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was walking towards the autopsy table like
an invisible force. I would lead to

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her on the table lying one of
the bodies covered by a blanket without being

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able to avoid it, I removed
the blanket and found myself face to face

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with the man who had started my
nightmare. His empty eyes looked at me

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and, despite his shattered lips,
he seemed to try to smile further worsening

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his wounds in the process. Suddenly, the nightmare took an even more terrifying

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turn. The man stood up,
stretched out a bloody hand towards me and

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with a penetrating laugh, took me
by the arm with a supernatural force.

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Although I knew I was dreaming the
feeling of his grip oppressed me and I

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could not wake up from that surreal
nightmare. The laughter continued to resonate in

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my ears, as the man dragged
me through the morgue the bodies of my

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companions lay inert. His eyes were
open, watching me with an expression of

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absolute terror and some of them seemed
to try to speak to me, but

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from his lips they only understood babbling. I finally managed to wake up with

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a shock in my room. He
was silent alone, but the feeling of

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oppression remained in the air. I
was fed up with all that exhausted,

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both physically and emotionally I knew I
needed to find answers, although I had

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no idea where to start. I
got up and went to the kitchen looking

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for some water to calm my nerves. At a slow pace, I tried

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to calm my agitated breath. The
fear was still clinging to me as if

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the shadows of the nightmare were still
haunting me. When I arrived in the

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kitchen, I filled a glass with
water and took it to my lips as

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I looked at the reflection on the
glass of the kitchen door, in the

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reflection there was a man with his
face disfigured with sunken and empty eyes.

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He seemed to be watching me with
the same terrifying intensity as in the nightmare.

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I released the glass with water that
crashed into the ground, generating a

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rumble in the room. I turned
quickly, but there was no one behind

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me. The kitchen was empty.
The feeling of being observed did not abandon

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me, as if that man with
a disfigured face continued to stalk me only

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that I could not see him terrified, I returned to my room and locked

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the door. My hands were shaking
as I tried to process what had just

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happened. Those things now were not
only in my nightmares and in the morgue.

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Now they were in my home.
One afternoon, the morgue received a

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tragic report of a car accident involving
a couple of children. Their bodies reached

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the morgue and the news of their
death filled the atmosphere. With regret,

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though my heart shrunk in the face
of tragedy. Duty required me to carry

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out my work professionally, so,
trying to put my fears and thoughts aside,

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I set out to do my job. I began the work with the

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professionalism it required, but the heaviness
of the environment and the sadness emanating from

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the small bodies seemed to infiltrate my
soul. While performing the procedures, I

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could not help but feel that I
was not alone in the room. The

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sense of being observed intensified and a
presence filled the room. I closed my

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eyes for a moment trying to push
away all those thoughts, but when I

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opened them I found a creepy vision. The bodies of the children were standing

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next to the autopsy table. Looking
at me with eyes that reflected sadness and

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bewilderment. My legs were shaking.
I tried to talk, but the words

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got stuck in my throat. Then
one of the children reached out to me

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as if seeking comfort. The room
resonated with hurtful whispers and the sadness in

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his eyes pierced my heart. Despite
the internal struggle between horror and compassion,

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I couldn' t help but turn
back. Overtaken by the overwhelming supernatural presence,

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the temperature of the halls dropped sharply
and a disturbing laugh was added to

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the distressing whispers. As he watched
impotently, the bodies of the children faded

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into darkness. Distressed by the supernatural
experiences that had marked my life in the

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morgue, I decided to take a
radical step and give up my work.

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The morgue had already taken too much
from me and the hope of finding peace

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seemed to drift away with every passing
day. However, I discovered that the

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nightmare that was following me did not
stop with my resignation. The nights continued

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to be tormented by disturbing dreams.
The bodies of the deceased manifested themselves in

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my dreams preventing me from finding a
good rest. Sleep pills stopped being an

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option, because if I took them, I ran the risk that the nightmare

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would catch me even when I wanted
to wake up, things weren' t

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much better. The figures of the
deceased materialized in the darkest corners of my

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home, as well as in the
reflections. I no longer needed to be

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in the morgue to feel their presence, they seemed to have held on to

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my life in a permanent way.
Desperate to free myself from that torment,

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I decided to move believing that a
change of environment would be the solution to

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all my problems. At first,
that seemed to work. The nights became

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quieter, the feeling of being observed
diminished and what was more surprising to me

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was that nightmares were becoming less and
less recurrent. However, it was not

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long before those beings found their way
to my new home. The moving cycle

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became a routine which, despite believing
that it would be a unique event,

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every time I tried to settle in
a new place, the bodies of the

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beyond emerged from the shadows to remind
me that there was no escape. The

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reason behind this persecution was an enigma. I didn' t know why those

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spirits were clinging to me, but
their unwanted presence became a burden. Each

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move was followed by a brief calm, which sooner or later returned to torment.

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I live with the idea of not
knowing if one day they will cease

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and the reason why I was elected. As its prey remains an unsolved mystery.

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Today I continued my search for answers
as I dragged my existence. The

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00:18:37.519 --> 00:18:42.440
morgue and its secrets left an indelible
mark in my life and although I have

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00:18:42.599 --> 00:18:48.599
tried to escape the presence of disfigured
bodies, it persists reminding me that no

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matter how much life tries, as
I once knew it will never again be

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the same story written and adapted by
rude auroras ahead