Congratulations, You’ve Been Hired for the Overnight Shift at Briarwood Funeral Home isn’t your average night duty. It’s quiet, slow, and surrounded by peace — but it’s not the kind of peace you find in an office. Here, silence feels heavy. The job pays well, the hours are calm, and management only asks one thing — follow the rules.
Many new hires think it’s just another night security role, but by morning, most never return. You’ve just been hired, and tonight, it’s your turn to keep the dead company.
Section 1: The Job That Pays Too Well
The listing for the overnight shift at Briarwood Funeral Home was oddly simple — “Night attendant needed. $30/hour. Must not fear solitude.”
It sounded perfect for night owls, students, or anyone needing quiet hours. No experience required, just a calm mind.
The funeral director, Mr. Hargrove, smiled too long when he said, “The rules are everything.” He handed you a clipboard with five rules, printed in bold red ink. He didn’t explain them. He just said, “Never break the last one.”
Section 2: Rule Number One
Rule 1: If a body turns to face you, turn the lights off for 10 seconds.
If it’s still facing you when the lights come back on — leave the room and lock the door.
Your first night starts with routine checks — temperature logs, hallway lights, and camera feeds. Everything feels fine until one of the bodies on the metal table shifts slightly.
You blink. Maybe it’s your eyes adjusting. But the tag on its toe swings gently like it moved on its own. You remember the first rule and switch off the lights.
Ten seconds feel like hours.
When you turn them back on — the body is still facing you.
You lock the door and mark the room “Closed for cleaning.” That’s when you realize — this job’s not about the living.
Section 3: The Elevator That Moves on Its Own
Rule 2: If the elevator arrives without being called, look at the floor, never inside. Let the doors close on their own. It didn’t come for you.
Around midnight, the elevator dings softly. You hadn’t pressed the button. You remember the rule.
You glance down, focusing only on the numbers above the door. Inside, something shifts. A faint rustling, like clothes dragging across the floor.
You wait. The doors slide shut again — but not before a cold breeze brushes past your legs, and the overhead lights flicker once.
You tell yourself you imagined it. But deep down, you know that elevator wasn’t empty.
Section 4: The Eyes That Watch After Midnight
Rule 3: If a body’s eyes open after midnight, do not blink or look away. Keep your gaze fixed until the eyes close again.
Your next task is to log the temperature of the main chamber. At 12:13 AM, one of the bodies has its eyes open. You freeze.
They’re glassy and pale — but definitely open.
You can feel your heartbeat in your throat. Every instinct screams to look away, but you don’t. You stare, trembling, as those lifeless eyes seem to study you.
After what feels like forever, the eyelids close again.
The digital clock reads 12:15 AM. You exhale and whisper, “Good night.”
You never realized until now — how long two minutes can last.
Section 5: The Chair That Faces the Wrong Way
Rule 4: If a chair is turned the wrong way, sit in it once. When you feel a cold hand brush your neck, leave immediately. You’ve restored the audience.
At 1:20 AM, during your hallway inspection, you notice something odd. One of the viewing room chairs faces backward.
It wasn’t like that before.
Your hands shake as you remember the rule. You slowly sit down. The room feels colder, heavier.
Then — something icy brushes your neck. You leap to your feet and bolt out the door. The chair is facing forward again when you glance back.
You’ve done your part. Whatever was watching the room now rests easy. But your heart doesn’t stop racing for a long time.
Section 6: The Tapping in Threes and Fours
Rule 5: If you hear tapping in sets of three, knock once back.
If it taps in fours — leave the room immediately.
The last few hours drag by. You’re reviewing logs when you hear it: tap… tap… tap.
Three knocks.
You knock once in return. Silence.
Then, a pause — and tap… tap… tap… tap.
Four knocks.
You don’t think. You just run. Your keys slip as you race down the hall, heart pounding. When you turn back, the light in the hallway blinks out, one by one, chasing you to the exit.
By the time you reach the lobby, dawn’s light is creeping through the windows. Your shift is finally over.
Section 7: What Makes This Job Different
Working the overnight shift at Briarwood Funeral Home isn’t about paperwork or cleaning — it’s about respect. Respect for the rules, for the silence, and for whatever else shares the night with you.
Most employees quit after one shift. A few never make it to sunrise. The job posting always reappears online every few weeks — same pay, same rules, same warnings.
It’s said that those who survive the first week start hearing names whispered from the morgue. But the manager says it’s “just the ventilation.”
Section 8: Why People Still Take This Job
Despite the fear, there are reasons people still apply for the overnight shift at Briarwood Funeral Home.
The pay is high. The hours are steady. And some claim it’s peaceful once you get used to the rules.
Others say the spirits respect those who respect them.
If you’re desperate for work, this job promises solitude — but solitude comes with a price.
After all, some nights, the dead get lonely too.
Section 9: The Real Lesson Behind the Rules
Every rule in the overnight shift at Briarwood Funeral Home has a purpose. They aren’t superstition — they’re survival.
Each one teaches a quiet truth: not everything that’s still is lifeless, and not everything that moves wants to be seen.
Breaking even one rule can mean joining the guests permanently.
So if you ever find yourself walking those dim corridors, remember: when something stirs behind you, don’t scream — just follow the rules.
Section 10: Closing Thoughts
The overnight shift at Briarwood Funeral Home is the kind of job that separates the brave from the foolish. It’s peaceful — until it’s not. It’s quiet — until it listens back.
Many apply thinking it’s just another night job. But only those who truly believe in the rules ever last long enough to see another sunrise.
So if you ever see the listing again, think twice before clicking Apply Now.
Because at Briarwood, the night doesn’t belong to you — it belongs to them.
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