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Haunted Convenience Store

I spent the greater part of my teenage years in north memphis, TN., being raised by my dad in his tiny 2 bedroom apt. The living room was as wide as a rich persons closet.

It was very cramped but never bothered me. The apartment was actually half a duplex, built onto the back of a convenience store that was unused for most of my life until I started working there at 17.

Anyway, the history is that the landlords father built the store,he and his family lived in the tiny apt behind it.

We would all hear conversations between a man and woman in the store when it was still closed down and boarded up, we'd hear something like bricks being drug around, bangs on the wall.

It never really scared me but intrigued me. When a Jordanian bought the store I started working there as soon as it opened.

Not the best memories, I was robbed at gun point twice in the years I worked there and annoyed by men all day, but anyway.

The first experience I had in the store, my friend Jamal was in the snack aisle picking out candy bars. He was in the middle aisle, the back wall of the store was lined with coolers of cokes and whatnot, and a couple extra metal shelves were placed on top for storage.

One of the shelves on top of the cooler literally flew at least 8 feet to the middle aisle barely missing Jamal's head and slammed onto the floor.

I was behind the register awestruck. No one else was in the store besides the two of us and poor Jamal's eyes were wide and he said "something's tryin to kill me".

That was the biggest thing to randomly fly threw the air at people, another time my dad said he saw a hostess cupcake fly off a shelf and hit a guy in line in the back. the customers reactions were always the same, wide eyed and spooked.

The messed up part is it would only happen to black people. My dad insists the landlords dad was a racist.

From stories he's heard in the neighborhood.

People say he wouldn't let black people use their restroom. I don't know but I'm sure only the most miserable of souls could stick around that dump after death.

Story credit: Sally Skellington



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