I am an anxious person. I always have been. Whether I am finding ways to avoid eye contact with mutual aquaintances at the grocery store, or speaking up when a waiter brings me the wrong order, my natural state of being is complete avoidance of difficulty with other human beings. As you might guess, I am a bit of a shut in. About a year ago, things really went south and I realized an indisputable truth; I was out of shape. I didn't like what I saw when I looked in the mirror, or what I felt when I had to walk up a long flight of stairs. So, like millions of americans before me, I joined a gym. I listened to the attendant go on and on about the various functions of the equipment and the various features the gym contained. Weekly classes, monthly raffles, membership bonuses, saunas. I nodded my head absently, perhaps a little impatiently. I was here for the basics, and there was no way in hell I was going to get naked in front of other random gym patrons. Be it the dead of summer, or the coldest night of winter, I was going to hop out of the car in my gym clothes ready for action. And sure as shit I would be clambering back into my car in the same sweat-soaked gym clothes. There was one key feature that interested me though...

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The gym was open 24 hours a day.

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One look around this temple of fitness and physique and the preening, grunting, and occasionally just plain posturing clientele I would be potentially sharing this space with cemented my battle plan. I was going to be working out at night.

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I don't mean to sound so sullen and judgemental. I really don't begrudge people their life choices, but the six to seven PM crowd really wasn't my scene. Besides, I work a nine-to-five bank job, and I am definitely not a morning person. The gym wasn't too far from my apartment, so I figured I would go home, do some housework, maybe get some couch-time in and head over around nine. It seemed like a solid battle plan. So on a muggy, hazy wednesday night, when my alarm began to blare, I dragged myself away from my computer, threw on an old t-shirt and some shorts and drove over to the gym. Walking in, I felt a certain amount of apprehension. There was loud pop music playiing over the speakers, and the clang and clamor of dozens of gymgoers as they lifted, grunted, and socialized. Feeling awkward, I went over towards a machine that seemed easy to use. You just pull the handles in towards the center of your body. Easy enough...

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As my classic rock workout mix belted out AC/DC, Judas Priest, Metallica and Duran Duran, and I awkwardly studied the diagrams on the machines, and learned the various techniques of pushing and pulling, I began to feel like I was getting into my stride. It's amazing how a little bit of physical exertion can really burn away awkwardness and anxiety. at just shy of ten, I exited the gym feeling sweaty, sore and content.

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By 3 months, I realized that despite my slightly pessimistic starting attitude, I had really come to enjoy this place. Driving home and looking in the gym windows, it looked like an introverts nightmare. But by 9pm, the crowd had thinned out drastically. I began to become comfortable pushing my start time to 9:30 or sometimes even 10 if I really wanted the solitude. It was almost even peaceful by then some nights. Almost. I still wasn't that comfortable interacting with anyone, although I had reluctantly begun to ask people to spot me when needed. And occasionally nodded and smiled at a few of the regulars who kept to similar workout routines as me. I also happened to notice during this time that I was beginning to get in much better shape. I've never felt strongly about my appearance, positively or negatively, but I felt like things might actually be starting to tip in the positive direction.

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About 5 months into my fitness journey I was still making progress. I had banked some personal time off at work, and despite not having anything in particular to do with it, I decided to take a few weeks to myself. I figured I could try out the camera that my friend Andy gave me for christmas, catch up on a stack of blu-ray rentals and despite giving myself permission to completely take it easy, I found that I was excited to see what I could do at the gym without the pressure of a work day or the following mornings alarm holding me back. I continued my workouts, and found that I was naturally going later and later. One day halfway through my time off, I didn't even get to the gym until midnight and left a little after 1am. I even took my headphones out and took a second to talk with Sarah, a fellow regular as she passed me by while I was on the arm curl machine. When I left that night, there were only two other people remaining. I felt like a real serious gym-goer.

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On the friday before I returned to work, Andy wanted to take me out to celebrate. A few months ago I might have said no, but all of this exercise really had done something to my mental state in addition to my physical. I was feeling bolder, more adventurous, more energetic. I agreed to join him and some mutual friends for drinks. I'm normally not much of a drinker, but I let myself cut loose for once. With just a bit of liquid courage in me, I felt something I hadn't felt in my entire adult life. I felt like I was the life of the party. I weaved through conversation with ease, I made the table laugh uproariously, and I even hit on a guy at the bar and managed to get his number. When we left a few hours I hugged my friends goodbye. When Andy came in for a hug he said "dude, I don't know what kind of crazy serum you've been drinking but I need some of it. Seriously though, I'm glad to see you get out and feel comfortable in your own skin for once." He was right. I hadn't even been thinking about it, but I really did feel like a new me, while not feeling like I had compromised myself at all. After some more friendly goodbyes and reassurances that we would do this again soon, I walked back home.

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The following saturday, I woke up with a mild hangover. I cooked some bacon and eggs for breakfast and then milled around the house a bit, doing some final chores that I figured I wouldn't want to do once I returned to work. I tweaked the settings on my camera, and settled in for an afternoon of movies. Halfway through the third movie, I got a text from Ben, the guy from the bar. He wanted to meet up for drinks next friday. I was ecstatic, pausing my movie to get up and anxiously pace. Passing by myself in the mirror, I noticed how the shirt I was wearing was clinging to my muscles. I couldn't believe how things were starting to turn around for me. I had more energy, more confidence, and a reignited social life. I owed it all to the gym. Saturday was a rest day to me, but I was so giddy I thought "to hell with it, I'm going in tonight".

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By eleven that night when I got to the gym, the air was cool and crisp. I had traded my shorts for joggers, but decided to leave my hoodie in the car, because I was parked right in front of the gym entrance. I walked through the doors and was hit with the familiar pop music, pleasantly turned down in the evening. There were a handful of people still there, including Sarah, who waved at me from the weight rack. I walked over and we made some small talk before putting in our headphones and going to our respective machines. I was in my element. I was having great sets on every machine and even set a personal best on the bench. Before long, I realized it was almost midnight. Exhausted, I went to the back of the gym where the treadmills were. Half an hour of solid cardio and I would go home, maybe have a shot or two or even send Ben a flirty text. As I started up the machine, Sarah waved goodbye at me on her way out. I smiled and gave dorky little salute back at her and then settled into my run. 10 minutes later, I watched as an older balding man grabbed his bag from the gym's storage cubbies and walked out the front door. As he was walking out I had a realization.

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I was alone.

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It was almost immediately a surreal feeling. Here was a public space normally crowded with people, but at this moment I had the place all to myself. I realized then that I really had grown to not mind my fellow gym night owls, and even enjoyed their company. Without any movement the gym looked almost too still. Here I was, pounding away on the treadmill, and where I was used to seeing weights pulling and lifting and rising, I just saw a field of strange little machines and neat little columns of weights. Feeling disconcerted, I glanced down at the display on the treadmill. Only 2 minutes left. I decided to cut my workout slightly short, as I was starting to get the creeps a little bit. I took my headphones out, and Billy Joel was replaced with the belting pop from the gym speakers. I hopped off the treadmill and grabbed my waterbottle.

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The music stopped.

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It just cut out abruptly in the middle of the song. Suddenly I could only hear the dull hum of the flourescent lights.

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Then, the lights started to go out.

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First the lights by the entrance went out, and then in small batches, the flourescents started to shut off. The lights blinked off in 3 separate patches, until the gym was completely dark. Heart pounding in my chest, I realized that the lights must be set on some kind of motion senser to save money. I tried jumping up and waving my arms for a second, but nothing happened. Swearing, I looked in the direction of the entrance and realized I could still see the light of the vending machines.

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My heart skipped a beat as I realized I could see a figure standing in front of them.

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Standing completely still, arms and legs in a wide stance. Absolutely motionless.

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I stood frozen for what felt like ages. I could feel my adrenaline kicking into high gear. My brain didn't have time to process what was happening, but all of my instincts were screaming at me that I was in danger.

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Then, the figure moved. It flopped onto the ground on all fours and began skittering towards me. It's hands and feet were slapping hard on the tile floor as it moved towards me with alarming pace. My flight or fight response kicked in and I chose the latter. I started running to the far corner of the gym, away from both the treadmills and the entrance. As I ran, I could hear wet, choked breathing coming from behind me, as the slapping got louder and more frantic. I turned around the corner and ran into the bathrooms, saw an open stall, dove inside and shut the door. I heard the slapping sounds round the corner a second later and then come to a halt. I heard labored, sickly breathing noises and then a more measured, deliberate slap, slap, slap noise as whatever the fuck this thing was strode across the bathroom floor. As it passed by the stall I was in, I could see the faint shape of what I realized with horror were huge flat hands and feet, with long spindly fingers and toes. The creature got closer, and then stopped. I could hear the choked, slobbery breathing noises and also a strange animalistic whimpering. Was it...excited? Then, the breathing and noises both stopped. It was completely silent in the room. I could hear my blood pounding in my ears. I wanted so badly to sob, to scream, to run. But I didn't dare. I kept my senses on high alert, waiting. For what I don't know, but I was locked in a nightmarish stalemate inside that restroom. Then, I heard a faint whimper above me. My eyes darted up.

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I screamed.

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Two huge luminescent eyes gaped out of the darkness at me. Long, grotesque fingers gripped the top of the stall. The eyes widened, and then the creature began to lift it's gangly body up over the stall. It whined and panted in between slobbering labored breaths. I shrunk into the corner of the stall, screaming and scrambling to get away, I rolled underneath the gap in the stall.

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And then music started playing. Loudly.

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It was like someone turned the gym's pop music mix up to the loudest that the system could go. I couldn't hear myself screaming as I got up and ran out of the bathroom.

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Then, the lights turned back on.

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Blinded by the sudden reveal, I slammed into a weight rack and went spilling over the top. The weights were knocked off with a series of bangs and clangs and one landed right on my stomache, knocking the wind out of me. Scrambling to my feet I continued my sprint towards the exit. I shot a look behind me and I swear I saw a brown, mottled hand disappear behind the corner of the bathroom entrance. I turned back around and immediately collided with someone.

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"Ow, what the FUCK" yelled the girl I had ran into.

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Hopping to my feet yet again, I looked at her with stunned confusion. "Hey motherfucker, watch where you're going" said the man next to her, giving me a hard push as he said it.

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"Go, GO!" I yelled, gesturing wildly towards the exit. "Get the fuck out!"

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I must have looked completely crazy, because the man dropped his alpha persona and helped the girl to her feet, warily standing between me and her. "Bro, what the fuck is your problem!" he shouted at me. He looked past me where an entire rack of weights had spilled haphazardly onto the floor. "What the fuck! Did you do that?".

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The world around me began to zoom back into the mundane, the nightmarish ordeal of a few minutes before fading for a scene of discomfort and confrontation with regular people at the gym. I muttered "yeah...no...I....bye" and hurried around them out to my car. When I walked outside, I could see that the sky had begun ever so slightly to lighten. I looked at my phone. It was four in the morning. What the fuck had happened, how did I lose over three hours. I turned around at the gym entrance and I could see that the couple were still looking at me and pointing, and the girl had her phone out. Between my still fading terror and my extreme discomfort at this altercation, I hopped in my car and raced home as fast as I could. When I got home, I went to my cabinet, got a bottle of vodka and drank until I passed out.

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I assumed that the couple called the police, or the owners, or someone about me, but nothing ever came of it. I never went back to that gym, and no authorities ever contacted me. I try to tell myself that it was some kind of nightmare, or hallucination, or something. But I know deep down, that it actually happened. I don't know what it was, and that frightens me to my core. I'll never know if it was an experience confined to that particular gym, or that particular night, or if whatever was in there is out there somewhere. Will I see that figure again in a dark room, or hear those whining rasps of breath. Will I see long fingers gripping the corner of my bedroom door at night?

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Either way, I don't go to the gym at night anymore.