The Blue Coat of the Empty Gym

In the cold October of 2014, I visited my partner Daniel’s family in the outskirts of a small town called Millbrook. We arrived at his mother’s house just after dusk, the streetlights flickering to life as we hauled our bags inside. After a hearty dinner of stew and bread, Daniel suggested we take a stroll to the old community center, a few blocks away, to smoke and catch up in private.

The community center was a relic from the 1970s, its gymnasium now a musty storage room filled with broken chairs and forgotten trophies. We sat on a bench under a dead oak, the moonlight casting long shadows across the cracked asphalt. Daniel lit a cigarette, and I joined him, the smoke curling into the crisp night air.

As we talked, my eyes wandered to the gym’s high windows. A flicker of movement – a man in a blue coat, standing by the window, watching us. I dismissed it as a night watchman, but a chill ran down my spine. I didn’t mention it to Daniel, not wanting to seem paranoid.

Minutes later, I felt a presence over Daniel’s shoulder. I looked up, and there he was: the man in the blue coat, standing directly behind Daniel, his face obscured by the darkness. I blinked, and he was gone, as if he had never been there. I felt a strange sense of calm, as if he meant no harm, but my heart hammered in my chest.

We decided to head back, the night air growing colder. As we approached the corner where the street bent toward the house, an overwhelming dread washed over me. I felt as though something was waiting for us ahead, just out of sight. I glanced forward and saw a silhouette – a black figure, its outline wavering like heat haze. It stood perfectly still, but I could feel its gaze boring into me.

I gripped Daniel’s arm, but he seemed oblivious. The figure began to move, not with steps, but gliding closer, and I heard a faint sound, like a distant sob, carried on the wind. The streetlights overhead flickered, and in that momentary darkness, I saw its face – a gaunt, featureless visage, save for two sunken pits where eyes should be.

I screamed, but no sound came out. Daniel turned, alarmed, but saw nothing. The figure was now within arm’s reach, and I could smell damp earth and something metallic. I thought of the man in the blue coat, and I realized with terror that the blue coat was not a coat but a shroud, and the figure before me was the same entity, now revealing its true form.

As suddenly as it appeared, it vanished, and the streetlights blazed back to life. Daniel held me, asking what was wrong, but I couldn’t speak. We rushed home, and I didn’t sleep that night, staring at the window, waiting for the blue coat to appear.

Later, I learned from Daniel’s mother that the community center had been closed for years, and that a maintenance man had been found dead in the gym last October, wearing a blue coat. He had been waiting for his son who never came. I knew then that the man in the blue coat was not malevolent, but lost. Yet the black figure – that was something else, a harbinger, a collector of souls. And now, it knew my name.

We left Millbrook the next day, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that the blue coat still hung in the window, and that somewhere, the black figure waited for its next victim. I never smoked again, and I never looked at a window at night without checking for a face.