The story I am going to narrate is not a tale from books, nor a rumor from people, It is a real story. Even today, when I think of it, I feel a pair of invisible eyes staring at me from the shadows. A cold breath touches my neck as if the ghost is waiting for me… waiting for the right time to come back, to attack me, to take out my soul.

It was 2025. Our company had acquired the 6th and 7th floor of an old building that had been recently refurbished. We were thrilled to move in, especially the digital team, who got the entire 7th floor. It was wide, spacious, and shining like new. We laughed, celebrated, and felt like the kings of that floor.

But happiness doesn’t last long when something else shares the same space with you. Some evenings, when the office became silent, a strange heaviness filled the air wishpering a paranomal sound. The lights would flicker. The sound of footsteps echoed though no one was walking. Sometimes we felt a strong smell of burnt cloth… and no one could explain it, why?

The building itself had a history. Back in 1997, when a US company first built this 10-storey campus in Hyderabad, people said it was one of the most beautiful buildings of its time. But beauty often hides secrets that to horror secrets that will give you goosebumps. The 7th floor, which now belonged to us, once belonged to something else.

It is said that during the construction, a young laborer died on the 7th floor in a strange accident. A huge roll of red cloth, used for decoration, got tangled with a machine. It pulled him in. His screams echoed in the empty building, but when people rushed, it was too late. His body was covered entirely in the torn red cloth. The blood mixed with the fabric. They said his soul never left.

From that day, workers refused to stay back after evening. They swore they saw a man, his face hidden behind red cloth, bleeding, standing near the glass windows, staring down at the city. Some even said he whispered their names at night. The company shut down that floor, leaving it locked for years.

But destiny had its own plan. In 2025, we entered that floor with excitement, unaware that the locked soul was waiting for someone to take over.

One night, when most of the team had left, I stayed back to finish my work. The entire floor was silent. Only the buzzing of the AC filled the air. Suddenly, I heard a soft dragging sound — like cloth sliding on the floor. At first, I ignored it. But the sound grew louder… closer… dragging and stopping… dragging and stopping.

I looked around. The office chairs were still. The glass walls reflected my scared face. And then—out of the corner of my eye—I saw it.

A piece of red cloth. Torn, stained, moving on its own.

It slowly crawled across the floor like it was alive. My heart pounded. I couldn’t breathe. When I bent down to look, the cloth stopped. And then, as if someone unseen was holding it, it lifted itself in the air.

Through the dim office light, I saw a shadow forming behind it… a figure, tall and thin, wrapped in red cloth, its head bent, its voice a whisper:
“Why did you come here?”

I froze. My fingers trembled on the keyboard. My throat was dry. Suddenly, all the lights went out. Total darkness. Only the red cloth glowed faintly, as if soaked in blood.
When the lights came back, there was no one. No cloth. Nothing.

But from that night, every time I stay late on the 7th floor, I feel it. The smell of burnt fabric. The dragging sound. Sometimes, a reflection in the glass that isn’t mine.

The red cloth is not gone. The soul is still locked here. Watching. Waiting.
And maybe… the next time I look up, it won’t just be watching. It will be standing right behind me.