Back in the early 2000s, a gym staff member worked at a sleek, modern facility located in a country club just outside Kuala Lumpur. Popular with the early morning crowd, it was a place where people started their days with a workout before heading off to their busy routines. The staff member often worked the early shift, arriving at dawn to set up the gym, readying the machines for the members who trickled in as soon as the doors opened.
That country club has since closed, and the building was demolished years ago. Yet, there is one memory that still haunts the staff member to this day—an eerie encounter that happened during an otherwise ordinary shift.
It was a typical weekday morning around 5:15 a.m. when he arrived at the gym. The sky was still dark, and the club was eerily quiet, the air cool and crisp. After parking his motorbike in the dimly lit lot, he made his way to the back entrance, unlocked the doors, and powered up the gym equipment. Everything whirred to life, filling the silence with their faint hum. It was routine.
After setting up, he suddenly felt the urge to use the toilet. The gym’s small restroom, tucked away in a corner near the back, had three cubicles. As he opened the restroom door, the fluorescent lights flickered on, casting a harsh glow over the room.
He noticed something strange: the middle cubicle was occupied. The door was closed, and a pair of shoes peeked out from underneath. They were black, neatly polished, and resembled the old cloth shoes worn in ancient China, quite different from the typical trainers or sports shoes he was used to seeing. It seemed odd. No one else had been there when he arrived, and it was still early for the usual crowd. Perhaps someone had slipped in while he was setting up, he reasoned.
He tried not to dwell on it. Choosing the cubicle on the left, he quietly went about his business. The restroom was silent, amplifying every small sound.
Suddenly, a voice broke the stillness. It was soft, yet clear, coming from the occupied cubicle in the middle.
“...you shouldn’t have come alone.”
His heart pounded. The voice was male, low, and strangely calm, with an unsettling, almost amused tone. He strained to listen, hoping he had misheard or that the voice was from outside. But no, it was coming from the middle cubicle.
He stayed still, trying to make sense of it. Was the person talking to someone? On the phone, perhaps? But who speaks like that at 5:30 in the morning in a gym restroom?
A sense of urgency gripped him. He quickly finished up, washed his hands, and glanced over at the middle stall, hoping for a clue. But the silence remained, heavy and oppressive.
As he dried his hands, he couldn't resist one last look at the shoes. They were still there, perfectly still, but something seemed off. They were too clean, too shiny, like they hadn't been worn. Then he noticed: there were no legs attached to them. It was as if they were just... floating, aligned in an unnatural way.
Cold panic seized him. He backed out of the restroom, eyes fixed on that stall, half-expecting the door to open. But it didn’t. The shoes remained motionless, and the silence pressed down on him like a weight.
He rushed out, leaving the restroom lights on, and returned to the front desk, trying to distract himself with mundane tasks. His hands were trembling, but he kept telling himself there must be an explanation—perhaps a cleaner or a member playing a prank.
As the morning wore on and members started arriving, no one emerged from the restroom. Curiosity gnawed at him until he finally went back. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the door open.
The middle cubicle was empty. The shoes were gone. A chill ran down his spine as he stood there, hearing that voice echo in his mind: “...you shouldn’t have come alone.”
He never discovered who, or what, was in the restroom that morning. Was it a ghost, a prank, or just his imagination? He’ll never know. But he did know one thing—he never used that restroom again during the early shifts.
Years later, when the country club was demolished, he heard stories about the land. It had once been an old rubber estate, and rumours of supernatural sightings had circulated long before the club was built. He didn’t dig deeper into those tales. Even now, every so often, he finds himself thinking about that morning, those shoes, and that eerie voice. It still sends a shiver down his spine, a reminder of a haunting encounter he’d rather forget.