We stood at a juncture a ‘T’ in a hallway of an old building we were remodeling. The floors were a terrazzo stone pattern, mottled gray, and the walls newly painted ivory.
The building had stories of haunting, of dark-robed ladies gliding down the halls and of cold winds in the tunnels as if a specter had rushed by in a hurry.
But those were just stories and I shrugged them off. I loved them of course as I love any fiction but that was all.
As we talked that day at the T juncture, three others and I, a woman screamed.
Imagine a throat-tearing sound from a horror flick. Then place it in an empty building.
I flew down the hall that faced us. Without a doubt, the woman in trouble was right in front of me behind the closed door in the hallway. But when I jerked the door open, no one was there. Confused, I looked around and saw I was alone. None of my co-workers had followed.
All of us heard the scream and all of us reacted. For me, the sound came from the hallway directly in front. At the same time, two of my co-workers ran down the right hand hall sure the scream came from that direction. But no one was there.
The other co-worker ran down the left hallway. Empty.
The four of us had occupied the same area. All of us heard the kind of scream that turns guts to water. All of us swore it came from a different area.
We found no one.