Siren of the final shift

A series of strange incidents are said to have taken place around a closed jute mill. Why does the siren suddenly sound at night? How could a man who died several years ago ask someone to open the door? Written by Lutful Kaiser.

When that famous jute mill in Rajshahi was established, the surrounding landscape was not as it is today. For certain reasons, the name of the mill is being kept confidential. Built on nearly 49 acres of land in the 1970s, the huge jute mill gradually became the center of the area. Workers would leave their homes after hearing the morning siren. The air would be heavy with the smell of jute and the walls of the factory would shake from the constant roar of the huge machines.

The recollections of former mill workers contain a strange and supernatural incident involving the mill. It took place in the late 1980s.

Abdul Kader (pseudonym) had been working at the jute mill for nearly 20 years at the time. Although he was over 45 years old, he was physically strong. He was more comfortable working the night shift. The darkness of the factory, the sound of the machines or walking alone beside the warehouse late at night did not frighten him.

However, there was one place in the mill that made him somewhat uneasy. It was the old jute warehouse. It was located at the northern end of the factory. Regular work had not been carried out there for many years. Broken machines, old wooden boxes and unusable jute sacks lay scattered inside. There was a rumor among the workers that a worker had died there in an accident about 10 years earlier.

It was a winter night in 1987. Kader was working the night shift. Nothing could be heard around him except the sound of the machines. Suddenly the siren went off. Kader was startled and looked at his watch. It was 2:05 am. There was no reason for the siren to sound at that time.

The shift change siren sounded at fixed times. Moreover, the old siren had been out of order for quite some time. Several workers also stopped working and looked at one another.

The siren stopped. No one said anything. Kader returned to work. About 10 minutes later he heard a sound.

Drag... drag... drag...

It sounded as if a heavy sack was being dragged across the floor.

The sound was coming from the old warehouse. Kader took a flashlight and walked toward it. A large padlock hung from the warehouse door. As soon as he reached the door, the sound stopped. After standing there for a while he said, “Who is there?”

There was no answer. He asked again, “Is anyone there?”

This time a voice came from inside.

“Kader brother... please open the door.”

All the strength seemed to leave Kader's body in an instant.

He recognized the voice immediately. It was Rahim's voice. He had worked with Rahim for many years. But Rahim had died five years earlier. He had been killed in a machine accident. He had been working the night shift at the time.

Kader did not stay there any longer. He ran back to the other workers. The next morning the warehouse door was opened with several workers present. There was no one inside.

However, clear footprints were visible in the dust on the floor. They were bare footprints. They came from the very back of the warehouse toward the door. They suddenly stopped near the entrance.

No one wanted to take the matter seriously. Some said that the marks had been caused by rats running across the floor of the old warehouse.

But a week later the siren sounded again. This time it was at 3:05 am. After the siren stopped the same sound was heard from inside the warehouse.

Drag... drag... drag...

From then on, the same incident began occurring almost every Thursday. Sometimes there was the sound of jute being dragged from inside the warehouse. At other times there was a roar resembling the operation of heavy machinery. Sometimes the muffled voices of many people could be heard.

The strangest thing was that the electricity line to the warehouse had been disconnected long ago. Yet several workers claimed that they had seen a yellow light through the warehouse windows late at night.

An elderly guard witnessed the scene himself one rainy night. He was patrolling in the rain when he stopped near the warehouse. Light was coming through the gaps in the window.

Majibor hesitated for a while before approaching the window. Then he looked inside and froze. Many people were working inside the warehouse. Rows of workers were there. Some wore old shirts while others wore worn-out undershirts. They were all working with their heads down in the same rhythm. Some were pulling jute. Some were separating the fibers. Others were standing in front of the old machines.

But their faces seemed to be hidden in darkness. Majibor then realized that he was watching a shift that had ended many years ago. Majibor was old and therefore he understood “many things.”

Suddenly one of the workers in the last row stopped working and raised his head. Rahim. Majibor recognized him clearly.

Rahim slowly walked toward the window. His face was completely pale and his pupils were completely still. Standing on the other side of the window, he looked at Majibor and said, “The shift is not over.”

At that very moment the siren went off. Once. Twice. Three times.

Majibor could not remember anything else. In the morning, he was found unconscious in front of the warehouse door.

Many years have passed since then. The mill became less busy. The machines stopped and the workers gradually left. Eventually the final chapter of the factory also came to an end. It closed down and hardly anyone now goes to the deserted mill.

But some elderly people in the area still say that if you stand near the old mill late at night, you can sometimes hear the sound of a siren in the distance.

The time is reportedly always the same. 3:05 am.

After the siren stops there is silence for a while.

Then, drag... drag... drag...

As if someone is still dragging a heavy jute sack inside the dark warehouse. And if you listen very carefully, they say that a voice can also be heard between the sounds.

“Kader brother, please open the door.”

But Kader died many years ago. And the door of the old warehouse has been closed for a long time.

 Translated by Al Eakram Mahmud Shoumik