Where the Dead Things Are by L.J. McLeod

Wendy hated the morgue. As the hospital’s night cleaner, it fell to her to keep it spotless. But that didn’t make it any less creepy. The silence felt heavy and the smell of cold corpse hung in the air as she mopped. Tonight’s storm only made it feel more oppressive. Lights flickered periodically and she could hear the thunder rumble through the walls. Her heart began to race at the thought of being trapped down here in a power outage. Sudden darkness filled the room, making nightmare reality. A cold hand seized her shoulder.

“Don’t worry. You’re never alone here.”