A few years ago I was living in a different city. My building was pretty old for the neighborhood (built before 1950) but things like the elevator had been updated. I lived on the 8th floor, and laundry was located in the basement. The elevator was the only way for tenants to reach the basement. There was a stairwell, but the heavy fire door at the basement level was always locked and only the super had the key (probably against the law).

Anyways one evening I was going down to do my laundry. The elevator opened into the middle of the basement hallway. To the left was the laundry room, only accessible from that hallway. No windows, no other entrance than the doorway. The laundry room didn't even have a door, just a doorway. To the right of the elevator was the shut and locked fire door. The hallway was empty except for a low rolling rack that tenants could use to transport belongings when moving in or out of the building.

I rode the elevator down to the basement and the door opened. I heared a faint noise coming from the laundry room. I thought it was another tenant but as I got closer it sounded like moaning and sobbing. The entire laundry room was visible from the doorway. Washers on the left, dryers on the right, a table along the back wall for folding.

There was a child. A little white girl (there was only one white tenant in the building, me, a single woman with no kids) was hunched up under the table, wearing a white dress and a pink sweater. Her long black hair was disheveled and her face was hidden in her pale hands. Freaked out, I made a sound. She looked up at me, her eyes like black holes. Immediately on seeing me she leapt up and ran past me out of the room. A chill lingered where she'd passed.

I was freaked out because I'd never seen this girl in the building before and had no idea who she belonged with or why she was crying in our basement. Being an adult I decided to see if she needed help. I turned back into the basement hallway and I was alone. But I'd heard the elevator go back upstairs when I'd gotten off, and it hadn't been called back down. And that fire door to the stairwell was locked. I walked over and checked just to be sure. She'd vanished without a trace. The hallway was freezing cold.

I got my dirty laundry, called the elevator back down, and went back to my apartment, quaking in fear. I never used that laundry room again, taking my stuff several blocks to a laundromat instead. Less convenient, sure, but no sobbing little ghost girl to freak me out. I left that city years ago but I'll never forget that time in the laundry room.

This story is taken from /r/Paranormal and was originally shared by /u/justnocrazymaker.

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