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I’m a 25-year-old female, and I've been working at this bowling alley in the northern most part of the Midwest for about a year now. It's located on a military base, so to save myself from any trouble, I won’t be giving the name of the place. It was the typical day to day like you’d expect, and I loved it up to this point. My coworker, Kaitlynn, and I got to play whatever music we wanted once all the kids got booted out at 9:00PM and it became “adult bowl only,” and there was free pizza every Friday night. It was nothing to complain about.
We closed pretty late on the weekends, around 1:00AM. Being a night owl, I didn’t mind, and time passed quickly when I was exchanging shoes and opening lanes. We worked behind a bar located to the back of the bowling alley with the lanes on the wall in front of us. We could see every lane in a row from this vantage point. More importantly, we could see every warning light, letting us know if a lane was having any sort of malfunction. There was an entry to a small kitchenette just behind us, and the manager’s office to our right.
Now that you’ve got the layout, you’ll understand better how it all transpired.
When I pulled up, it was already snowing, winter here is no joke, sometimes reaching -50 Fahrenheit, and tonight was no exception. I opened up like I normally would. While I was in the machine room turning on the air compressor for the bumpers, I got a call from my manager. He let me know that the major highway next to the base had been updated to “Red,” meaning wind gusts and heavy snow had created white-out conditions. Since I lived on base I hadn’t needed to check the roads, but he and Kaitlynn weren’t going to be able to come in, as they both lived in town 30 or so minutes away.
When I told him I had already opened the lanes for the night, he said I was welcome to stay if I wanted, that some families will still want to come in if the weather changed their plans of going into town. So, I stayed. A couple extra hours of pay and low probability of actually having to work sounded great. I walked to the front doors and stared out the window, the snow was falling harder now and it was pitch black out. I flicked the switch on our open sign and headed back to the bar.
Two hours passed of complete silence; I hadn’t even turned the music on so I could hear if anybody trudged in out of the storm. I was reading a book, when I heard a whirring sound. I looked up and around but didn’t see anyone. Once it stopped, I assumed nothing and continued on. Then I heard it again, this time it was closer. When I looked up, a movement caught my eye.
On Lane 11 there was a pin moving like nothing I’d ever seen before. It was spinning on its bottom edge, but at an angle, the way a coin does before it flattens out. I got up and walked to the door to check for a car. It was the only unlocked door, so if I missed someone, they had to have come from there. There were no cars or footprints or signs of anyone coming in at all. Even my prints had been covered up at this point. So, I turned back to the lanes and froze. The pin had stopped, but now it was standing still, on its edge, at an angle.
I walked down the lane slowly, so as to not slip on lane wax. When I got to the end, I crouched down, level with the pin. I gently pushed the pin so it would fall back into place. It did, but before it had time to settle from a wobble, the lane’s emergency light came on.
Normally, my manager would come to save the day when a lane went berserk, but this night, it was just me. So, I stood up and made my way back. I walked to the end of the lanes and entered the machine room through the service door. It was narrow and dimly lit with cold concrete walls, you could tell all the aesthetic attention was paid to the front of the lanes. I was all the way at Lane 22, so I walked down the hallway, wide enough for one person to fit shoulder width through. Lane 11 looked fine. Gutters were empty, no obvious pinsetter issues. I figured the best next step was to hit restart and have it cycle the pins and do a sweep.
My finger was hovering over the button when the quiet hum of a bowling ball slowly rolling down the lane caught my attention. I waited for it to fall into the gutter, but it stopped right in front of the pins. Great. Nothing like some kids trying to bowl a lane I didn’t open for them. I couldn’t hit restart with a ball obstructing the lane. Begrudgingly, I made my way to the service door and back into the main room. I was ready to greet the family that decided to bowl during a blizzard, but I was only met with the same empty alley I left.
I all but stomped to the door. No footprints, no cars, no sleds, again nothing. When I turned back to the lanes, there was no movement, and the emergency light was back to normal. The ball now sat stationary in the bowling ball return. Which made no sense because it had stopped before even going through the pins.
The bowling alley suddenly felt really big as I was checking the bathrooms, the kitchenette, the party rooms, and the office. Too many corners and too many doors that the kids could have exited. I debated on calling security, but they definitely had better things to do in a blizzard than check the bowling alley. So after my search, I sat back down and waited for my shift to be over.
30 minutes later, I was ready to eat dinner, so I got out my packed food and went into the kitchenette to microwave it. I was halfway through stirring when a man said my name at the front desk. I jumped but was glad a regular finally showed up. I was tired of being alone. I walked out with my food and was about to comment on the weather only to find nobody standing there. I sat and waited for them to come back with a bowling ball or from the restroom, but after ten minutes, I gave up waiting.
After dinner, I only really had another hour to go, so I started cleaning up the bar, and doing all the closing tasks I could get away with. I was vacuuming under the table by Lane 1 when I heard “pssst.” It was so distinctly human. I felt sweat start to prick at my brow. Looking towards the darkness, behind the pins of Lane 1, I could see something stationary that hadn’t been there before. My hands were freezing and damp, I had to wipe them on my jeans.
I picked up the vacuum and ran it back to the closet. I was done for the night, closing shop early, they could keep my last hour of pay. I counted the register as fast as I could, my hands shaking so hard I couldn’t hold the coins. I clocked out in the manager's office, turned off all the lights and the open sign. I was literally outside the door, fumbling with my keys in the freezing weather, when I remembered the last thing I had to do before closing. I needed to turn the air compressor off.
I cursed at myself and wrestled with the idea of leaving it on. That would mean putting a government building at risk, and the stakes were too high. My stomach was turning and my mouth was dry, but it wasn't like I had a choice. So, I entered the building and locked the door behind me.
Something about the bowling alley seemed so strange with the lights off. I left one row of lights on, so I could see where I was going when I left the first time. I looked down Lane 1. The shadows from behind the pins now stretched all the way down the lane. I walked to the back corner of lane 22, the compressor was controlled by a switch on the back wall. I'd flip it, then I would be gone.
It was loud with the compressor going, and something metallic filled the air. My eyes adjusted to the dark, running my hands over the cold concrete in search of the switch. Once it was off, it got quiet, but not silent. To my left I could hear what could only be described as a quivering, wet noise. I turned to see the emergency light on at Lane 11. Then I had a horrifying realization. A small animal got stuck in the mechanisms of the lane. It made so much sense with the noises and movements. Even the sideways pin could be chalked up to a fluke. I felt so silly as I went to go help this poor creature. These machines are more dangerous than people understand, let alone prairie dogs looking for a warm place during a blizzard.
The small thing was writhing in the ball return hole; I could see muscles convulsing and blood seeping out of it. The metallic smell was drowning me, thick and fresh. I didn’t have gloves, and I didn’t know what to do. I just wanted to help it. I reached to grab my phone to call my manager. I could still hear it squirming while I was trying to find our recent call, but when I looked back, it had disappeared. In silence and completely scentless. It left no trace of its agony. I closed my phone, unnerved and ready to leave. I knew the smell of its corpse would be present the next day after the heat kicked on overnight, then at least I would feel less crazy.
The “Pssst.” from Lane 1 made me snap my head toward it. A body was crouched in the darkest part of the hallway. The narrowness of the machine room began to close in around me. It had encased me in isolation with whatever had been taunting me. I turned to run, my shoulders hitting the sides of the wall and bruising against the machine parts that jutted out toward me.
Slapping wet footsteps ensued behind me. I made a sharp turn into the door and ran through the alleys to get to the front door faster. My foot slipped on the wax and my leg followed, taking my whole body down. The blood drained from my face, and I struggled to gain traction. My hands were slick with the wax and my leg ached as I got to my feet. I did my best to balance on the side of the gutter and limp to the door, my heart pounded in my ears. I couldn’t tell if it was still stalking me, or if I was imagining its eyes boring into me. I just needed out.
I entered the bitter night, my teeth chattered as I slammed the door and made sure it was locked. The drive home was too short, and I remember wanting to put as much distance between me and the bowling alley as possible.
I called out sick the rest of that weekend. I knew I wasn’t going to tell anyone at work. What would I have said? There were no cameras to my knowledge and even if there were, I'd look insane. No one has brought anything up since it occurred and I’d prefer it stay that way. I am moving soon and just need to get through these last few shifts. I know it sounds crazy, but there was something there, it doesn’t show itself unless you’re alone or maybe it was a one-time occurrence. I don’t think it was human.
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