When I thought about changing careers and working in a funeral home, I never thought about the mental stress this would cause. Sure going back to school was stressful, and finding the job added even more stress, but this is different. This isn’t the mental stress that comes with trying to set-up a funeral, or meeting with emotional families, or even just being surrounded by dead people.

This is the stress that comes with those fears you had as a child, the ones that constantly lurk in the back of your mind…

Before story time, let’s break this down:

PHOBIA: An extreme or irrational fear of or aversion to something. Got it? Cool.

THANATOS (Greek): The Greek God of death –or — Psychologically: Just death.

PHASMO (Greek…again): Apparition or ghost.

ACHLUO (Yeah.. still Greek): Darken.

So *Channelling my inner Sophia Petrillo*

From Google Images

PICTURE IT: Last week. 2AM. In the prep room. I had responded to a call that came in shortly after midnight. Groggy, I got up, stretched, put my suit back on, and left for the funeral home. I have done this many times without anything being out of the ordinary and so far, all was quite normal. I walked in to the pitch-black garage, fumbled to find the light switch, searched for the pre-need, and proceeded to head to the local hospital. I called the nursing supervisor and waited for their assistance to get into the morgue. After about 25 minutes of waiting outside and sweating from the humidity that came with the heat wave, I was on my way back to the funeral home.

Once back, the work actually began. Though I’ve always been slightly creeped out by the funeral home (I mean who wouldn’t be?! Dead people are there, amirite?), tonight I was rather on edge. When I’m alone, I first want to turn the phone diverter off, so that if a call were to come through I can pick up the prep room phone rather than my cell (that would be gross AF). Little known fact about me: I am absolutely terrified of the dark. So yeah, I run back down the stairs like demon from Sinister is about to get into my head and watch me kill everyone I know. All is well…for the most part.

From Google Images

So now I am back in the prep room, music on, embalming, and then I feel the chills. The hair stands on my neck and my heart sinks. Something is there. I quickly brush off the feeling. I need to concentrate. The dead person I am working on deserves all my attention.

“It’s nothing. You’ve done this so many times. Focus.” I tell myself.

An hour passes by. It’s now 2 AM. My music cuts out, I’m assuming because the WiFi sucks, but then I hear it. Someone is walking around upstairs. Trying to be logical, I just assume it’s the A/C and continue working. But my music comes back on and then stops again. This time the footsteps are above me. Someone is legitimately in the office. I walk out of the prep room and yell upstairs.

From Google Images

[Guys, c’mon. Of course no one answers. It’s 2 in the freaking morning. I am an idiot. This is why I’d be the first to die in a horror movie.]

Axe murderer *Hiding in dark room of abandoned warehouse, throws stone to make noise*

Me: *Hears noise from that dark room, walks in* Hello? Anyone there.

Axe murderer:

Me:

Axe murderer:

Me: *Gets killed by axe murderer*

ANYWAY.

I go back to work and I am just ready to be out of there. I am tired, sweating (though chilled), and freaking TF out. And then, I hear them coming down the stairs. I pause, not really sure I can handle what is happening, but the stairs are creaking and I hear the heavy footsteps. I just know someone, somehow, got in the funeral home, and this is where I get killed. But then, they just stop. I hear them get to the bottom and then it’s quiet. I check, and there is no one. My heart is racing as I finish the prep work. I turn on every light as I get the diverter back on, and run like hell out of the building. It’s 3 AM. I’m scared, alone, and have to be back at work in 5 hours.

Guys, this is STRESS. I can handle the embalming and the families. But freaking GHOSTS in the DARK?! Oh, hell no. Nuh uh. Nope. Just stay dead and gone people. Death is scary enough as it is. I don’t need any folks coming back for revenge or just to hangout. No Spiritflix and Chill, mate. No Cthulhu and Boo Boo.

This did happen. This is my life in the funeral home. I am anxious to show up to work after hours. Logically, I know it’s nothing and can be explained. There is just something that always feels off. My three biggest fears are the fear of death, fear of the dark, and ghosts. So yeah, I chose to work in a damn funeral home. Genius.

Stay intrigued by death, my friends.

TC Deathwriter