Copyright 2010 by Molecat Jumaway
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
I’m at my new job, it’s nightshift and nothing happens, nothing ever happens. We sit by phones that never ring. Paid to sit there just in the deep hours in case they will ring. Over the last few weeks I have been lulled into a trance. The building seems to talk to me, it creaks and groans and I feel as though whispers float through the still air. I can barely hear them and I have no idea what they are saying but from the signs of my co-workers they are words of madness.
I get up slowly from my desk, my limbs have all fallen asleep from sitting idle for way too long. I swagger and sway towards that darken door much like a ghoul. Throughout the whole building save for our office the only lights that remain on are the exit signs. Leaving the office to go to the toilet is like a chilling eventless ghost ride. The stage is set, the mood lighting right and no matter how much you expect it nothing jumps out. It’s a fair walk, many corners and openings to other offices complete in their darkness. This is where the whispering is most audible. In complete darkness a person can fabricate a whole image in front of him. In complete silence a person can only hear his own thoughts.
I come around the corner, the exit sign straight above my head. In the distance the light grows faint but you can just see the toilet door. I take a step forward and pause. My right foot out and trembling, unreceptive to going forward. In the far corner of the corridor, barely visible there is movement. A figure, the naked skin against the wall barely detectable as it huddles there. Folded up and shaking, it notices me and its head rises up quickly. It’s eyes catching the light behind me and shining back like shiny pins. I’m frozen, my best foot still out and hanging. I watch it slowly unfold, the long limbs stretch out as it slowly stands up. It’s wet, the long hair clinging to its face, its neck, its shoulders. It takes a step and I know I should retreat. It takes another step and I’m still frozen. Suddenly it’s rushing up to me. I see its face I see the wounds, I see the congealed blood. I recognize what it is, who she is and then suddenly it is gone. I don’t know whether it was a better or worse thing that my head created this.