Beneath The Elevator ( Horror Story Chapters 1-4 )
In the remnants of ages now seemingly so long past and otherwise forgotten, there are fragments of worlds before our own that care a great mind more of our existence than we of theirs. Hiding with a patience so inhuman and with a purpose so cruel it would threaten the very concept of our morality and consciousness.
Within a building there is a small group gathering. A small blend of men and women all of different back grounds, ages and concerns. Most of them don't know each other but they do know one thing. Something in the building they work has taken an interest in them and it won't stop with the horrible visions it shows them or the marks it leaves. No. It will not stop until each and every one of them are down the darkness of the shaft, past the cord lines that seem to travels endlessly into a cold eternity. Where it has always been. Beneath The Elevator.
Please join me for a brief sitting in a small story I've been working on. This is not a complete work and has not been revised nor edited as of yet. It is highly suggested that you be mindful of some of the elements presented in this story as they can be of a disturbing nature. Not too described as to linger but enough to imprint. Be weary and be mindful.
-Beneath the Elevator-
Keith wasn't feeling so hot that evening. The reason wasn't so apparent to be observed by the eyes. It wasn't in the yellow tinted Styrofoam cup he seemed to clasp with an almost possessive grip. It wasn't in the black slosh they called complimentary coffee which made various uniformed waves as his hand shook to a rhythm only he seemed to know. It also was not found in the eyes of the seven others who sat apart from him in the pale light of the office's cubicle. He didn't know these people. That wasn't true, he did know them but it was the kind of distant knowledge that separate acquaintance from moving decoration. Other than the fact they all shared the same silence, perhaps even the same fear, he only knew with absolute certainty that until then and even still now they were strangers. Strangers who like him had found themselves following under odd disturbances as of late. Maybe even further back if someone up there wasn't kindly looking down on the world. There wasn't much for discussion, not yet anyway. Where to begin was the real question, how or why what had been happening was in fact happening. It's an odd feeling to be part of a group especially when the circumstances aren't about socializing. You ever go to one of those neighborhood parties?
I don't mean that hip rave crap where the kids are grinding on each other, I mean the tame stuff where everyone is out on the balcony or pool top just conversing in dispersed groups.The kind for the mom's and dads or people who could not afford to handle that anymore. It's such an odd and hazy feeling wandering into a circle even by mistake. You just feel this weird grip on you and as Keith set the cup down on the desk below him, all those eyes collectively on him as if expecting something, anything...reminded him how much he hated socializing.
" The office doors are locked." It was such a relief hearing that voice. Not because it was familiarity but because every man and woman now took those eyes of him and onto something, or rather someone else. Daniel Thorton stood at the entrance of the cubicle with the beam of the overhead lights reflecting just bright enough off his glasses to hide the disorientation in his eyes to everyone else there. Both his hands were clasped behind his head in an almost comical fashion but nothing about what had happened could bring ease to anyone not even him. The silence was also just as awkward from the moment it started twenty minutes ago but it felt more apparent now, tense and heavy like you could reach out and steal a taste of the frosting. Daniel continued on to clear his throat and take his place between two men named Thomas and Bill and a black filing cabinet one of the three had happened to name Tabitha last Christmas at the office party. Needless to say that filing cabinet was the least of them thinking how weird it must have been for everyone to gather around like it was an AA meeting.
" So where to start? " the voice was high pitched, springy and off tone, it was also coming from the woman nearest to Bill. Rachael, or at least that is what Keith had made out from the mutters of Sean as he brought him a cup five minutes ago before being turned down for his offer to Joel in three. He was now standing and tugging on his pale blue tie with an uncertainty " Well Rachael that is a good question. Does anyone here know how to keep this appropriate and professional? " Keith just chuckled at the words. Forget business protocol and proper political values. This was beyond that and three days ago Keith was the kind of man who had no values in spiritualism, voodoo or the devil. Now though...now he probably assumed himself and company were touched by something so dark that if there was a god, it was beyond their own power. " Well I don't know about 'appropriate' but uhh, last time I checked there was a skeleton attempting to drag me out of the elevator's roof tile last Saturday. Needless to say I've been taking the stairs. Does that...cover everyone else here? "
Bill had finished as he slunk his back towards Tabitha. He looked relax but his nervous nature was more transparent by this time as everyone stared at him now. " D-don't look at me like that. " He muttered even lower as he stared at the black carpets. " I know this is going to sound crazy but I swear I..." Daniel let loose a distant and tired chuckle " ...I swear that I heard my grandmother in the bathroom wall. While we're being open she's been dead for fifteen years. I mean It sounded like her but obviously wasn't...especially after the sink's in there flooded with...I'm hoping oil. "
And it was there that Keith started to feel better about himself. Well not in the sense that actually brings relief to anyone. He was not the only one though and perhaps that made a difference somehow in a minor way that all of them were being tormented by creatures at their office. There. The hinges were loose so it might as well be time to slam open the door. " I escaped from the second floor closet after being abducted by what I thought was my Dead 5 year old daughter. " Keith was not expecting them all to stare at him so profoundly. That door was definitely slammed open now though.
- Closet of Bags -
Sandra Whim was preoccupied that morning and it was more than her hands at work as she ran the straightener through her hair. It was a full on mental back step which had set her on an episodic autopilot even deeper than her eyes could see from. To be frank she was fully accustomed to this daily ritual of a routine that no longer was a matter of responsibility but familiarity. That included all the trim with it too when you worked in stock accounting and personal registry. Still, even if you happened to be in that odd twilight of a position where no one really as much looked at you as they did your shadow,there was a matter of appearance.
Maybe that was becoming a little bit too familiar as well for her because being brutally honest to herself, which was not as often as it should have been, Sandra was starting to become more attracted to the auto pilot and not the reality of every day commute. She was young enough to be dating, had been dating actually a month ago but she was a woman of habit and something was still in her which just didn't die easily enough. It was the same reason she would just sit at the left hand side of her King sized bed and stare at a tarnished gold ring on her cherry Oak nightstand. Everything dies but habits especially when they're old enough are harder to get rid of.
So the dating stopped because three years ago that was where she was every night. home but not alone, Not like she was now. His scent was still there though, something that had remained. They say when you really grow attached to someone they imprint on you. It's a curious thing but it's actually true, you even start to smell like each other if you get close enough. It's human to have that closeness. The way Sandra had been though that week was less human and more impulse. That pleasant smell was not so pleasant anymore either. Actually it smelled like burnt hair. " Oh Shit! " she blurted as her attention returned. The bathroom light in the mirror was an unnatural bright.
The straightener managed it's way to the floor just nearly making acquaintances with her right foot. A thin veil of smoke was just barely visible to her eye as it quickly vanished into the air. Well you could not say her hair was NOT straight now, though perhaps a crisp golden brown on a small smidgen of the otherwise bright blonde streaks. The Volvo wasn't choking that morning in the cold air but the wipers hadn't been doing any better than last as the rain hit the windshield. It was a 1999 S70 but the girl still knew how to throw a party or two when the wind was right. It needed a tune up for some time but it didn't feel right fixing the quirks. When it was cold she usually hiccuped, when it was hot she came to a constant shudder. She liked to drink too...a lot. That's what they were actually, like quirks, and sometimes they could be missed, even on an inanimate object like a car. Besides, it wasn't hers originally. It was his mother's before she too passed. Didn't even get to drive it either which is a waste of money when you come right down to it.
Cold enough to put on a jacket but just not there enough to have snow. Weather like that wasn't too common but Sandra didn't mind that, in fact she kind of enjoyed the change up every now and then. Traffic was alright that morning because in a city even when it was five you could still find so many of the joy riders. Today though it may have been a little too wet for them to come out because the lanes were almost clear shots save for a few odd sorts here and there. The clouds were almost a dirty dark blue or maybe that was the street lights giving that illusion. Her eyes weren't really all that focused on enjoying the sights. The parking lot she stopped in ten minutes off was just as empty.
There was not a day in her life since she could remember that she was not even when she was a child. Not sure if it was her father who got her the nervous habit or if it were her mother but it was one of those ingrained things. As she closed the car door she took in that chill of patter meet with her head and cheeks. Autopilot was still engaged but that was enough to have her on the passenger's seat. The office building she worked at was a decent enough place on the inside and a little worse on the out. If you took the time you could find a few creases and cracks, faults in the curved brick unions between the floors. A parting gift of the past two Earthquakes in 1946 and 1987. "Oh by the way it's 2013." She was not sure as to why she thought that.
The once smooth paint was now crackled and displaced with certain sections missing altogether. Beneath were fine blackened bricks with pieces of moss in between. Time to time you might find a bird making residence in them. That morning however the building stood like a darkened ruin in the hue of clouds as the rain soaked it thoroughly. Something was especially apparent to her however. On the second floor between the third and fifth window just towards the Western portion and facing the parking lot was the wide arch window with an absolutely glowing orange light. Sandra was not aware anyone else came in this early and if they had they must have been close without a car. Security was the only one in the lot at that time otherwise. Maybe that was it.
As she walked up the steps of the lot entrance and to the sub-exit double doors, she was completely unaware of the shadow which passed over that light. That same shadow which was fully aware of her presence, neigh expecting her presence actually. The same shadow which would plague her sleep and rummage the the cobwebs in her nightmares to remind her of it's existence for the next two weeks. Two weeks before she became part of the group of Eight people who could not understand why this thing had came to torture, attack and even attempt to murder them. The main entryway was filled with a darkness dispersed by the morning maintenance fixtures every few feet towards the tiling. It always felt so eerie yet beautiful in it's own way. The heels of Sandra's shoes let out a gasping squeak with each step as she neared the dual elevators and quietly tapped the first floor button. The doors almost imminently opened and for some reason that shocked her in an odd way she just could not explain. As she stepped into it the air felt colder than even outside. The hallway had a firm toast to them but maybe the shaft was just impervious to that union. She had hit the button for the third floor and relaxed back against the wood walls of the cube. As the doors slowly slid shut she felt the shuddering of it's rise beneath her feet.
The Light flickered briefly above her and just for that fleeting moment a brief fear took hold of her being stuck in that shaft so early on. It would be hours before anyone else would come in and if security was doing it's usual run then that would be forty five minutes give or take. The thing was though that Sandra didn't have claustrophobia. Far more weird was that the more she thought on it the more she felt scared watching the doors of it open again once more. She couldn't explain it, it just felt organically impulsive and almost expecting of something grim to be on the other side. The air felt even colder now. The elevator shuddered once more but this time it had came to a stop and her fears were met as the doors did slide open.
There of course was nothing on the other side, why would there be? Well that was a weird question on it's own especially without anyone to be there who hit the button either. Outside those doors was a wall and beyond that was darkness. This wasn't the third floor though, it was the second and as she stood there waiting curiously for the door to close again, she grew more receptive of the idea after the first two minutes that it was not going anywhere. After the first couple of jabs at the close door button she was certain without doubt that it was broken. Something inside her felt so off though leaving the safe confines of the small cube and into the darkness of that hallway. The flickering of the light again however quickly changed that perspective; The comfort was gone now.
She cautiously poked her head out to look on either side and besides the pale light of the circular window on the right hand side of her at the other side, the other was a shroud of darkness. Leave it to maintenance not to install emergence lighting on the second floor. As she took a step out the door behind her came with a sudden whir as the doors actually slammed shut with a loud screech. Her heart was racing and in that brief moment of shock and adrenaline her finger quick and compulsive slapped against the floor button more than thirteen times. They weren't going to open again, not for her, not on this floor. She had control again; she was scared because she was not expecting it, that was all. It was not even a matter of thinking about it anymore, she just began to work unsteadily but quickly into the darkness.
The stairway was connected at each level after making a turn on the L-Shaped hall. It was always on the left side of the hall towards the bathrooms and usually took less than a minute, probably forty seconds to get there. In the darkness it felt a lot longer than believable. Sandra couldn't explain why she was suddenly so gripped by this irrationality, this inability to reason she was alone. It was like someone had dropped a palette of fear and anxiety inside her heart and head and she could not shut it out, not even for a second. She jumped as she brushed past one of the various fake potted plants littered amongst the walls. Her eyes had given more room for adjustment by then and she could see it now, the odd shaped handle only the stairway doors had. She almost felt a sense of relief and may have continued on that.
However in the case of Sandra something else had seen to it that such a thing as pleasant experiences were a deterrence of expectation. On the contrary had she not for a moment heard that soft yet unnerving creaking of a door from behind, if she had not turned around to peer into the unnatural orange glow of the door frame, if she had not hesitated and been drawn to it against her own will, the rest of her day may have just been an off beat experience. However she did not do any of that, she had heard the noise, she had turned around to view a most peculiar site, and her feet moved her towards whatever willed her, behind that door. She had stopped maybe thirty or more feet away from the hall closet, regaining some form of mental stability. The door had been fully open and that same odd light she had seen outside was now basking the walls, floor and her in it's waving aura.
All the while something in the back of her mind was gnawing at her senses, repeatedly and compulsive for her to get closer, that it was alright. At the same time she felt something else so subtle yet so sickeningly imploring her to do the complete opposite. That to go near that closet was the very singular thing in the entirety of her life not to do. Far worse than having let- " Sandra. " such a soft masculine whisper brushed her ear. " Nathon! " her composure withdrew as she looked behind her but there was no Nathon. How could there be? Nathon was dead, had been dead for three years. She had seen it herself, had seen his body as she examined what was left of him when they asked her to identify. The only thing truly left intact was his wedding ring, their wedding ring, and even that had suffered. His body had been so white, so devoid of natural color. Whatever had not been burnt black. What had once been Nathon her husband was nothing more than a piece of meat on a slab. What had once been the man who wore a uniform and badge out into the night was now a reduction to non existence. No longer an officer but a reminder that no matter the honors and intentions, every man is cut down the same.
As she looked towards the closet that light seemed almost brighter but there was more now. Various black and white suits hung towards the back all in uniform.No, not suits. Bags. The sounds of metal jingling weakly as the hooks that held them swayed on the line to hold at the weight. Inside them, each of them there had to have been something alive. Weak, gently pawing at the seams from within as if to escape and greet Sandra as a wide awake nightmare. For a moment it almost appeared sporadic, the bags writhing in a grotesque harmony and then from the middle black bag peered what had been large thin white worms. No, fingers caressing the air and extending to show a hand, then an arm. It was pale, white, cut up and in some places ripped to the bone. A single finger was beckoning to Sandra and even from where she stood she could see a single tarnished gold ring on it. Their ring. " Sandra...I've missed you. " " No. No,no! " Nathan's voice spoke so clearly and yet so distantly and it wasn't just in the hallway, it was in her head. Even as she covered her ears and tried to comprehend what the hell was going on she could not shut it out. That arm was out stretched further now, unnaturally beyond the elbow, beyond a shoulder, as if a suspended piece of meat all of it's own without the need of any other part. Still beckoning and reaching out. " I have so much to tell you. " his voice was so calm but it was hollow, cold like a dead body.
Was she going insane? Had she truly been regressing her feelings so deeply to this point? Was there more of something wrong in her now than she had led onto? She closed her eyes as she tried to shut out everything in the world. Everything felt like it was spinning beneath her feet; she felt overwhelmingly sick and as her eyes opened once more she nearly vomited then and there. The gap between her and the door was now filled because as she stared now, she was no less than two feet from it. Inside the light was no longer a beautiful warm orange but a sterilized white. Wisps of the smoke from ice creased at her heels as she stared into the various bags now opened just for her. Oozing out blackness like oil, filled with eyes whom stared into her own and even further deeper down. Almost human but so much further away than near. A closet full of bags and ice. A freezer whose inhabitants had no words to speak but stories to tell, such horrible stories as they delicately hung by their back necks in the darkness of the oil and the bags. They were the human equivalent of frozen pork on meat hooks. " Dear god no, why is this happening? " she could hardly mutter as the butterflies inside strung her heart.
Her vision blurred, almost seemed to go colorless as her head grew fuzzy. She closed her eyes again and began to pray, to make it all stop as if she had any power against the insanity inside her or possibly the external source of horror she was now witnessing. When they opened again she sat hunched on the carpet near the stairway door. The closet was closed once more as if never having been opened. There was no light not even coming from beneath it, no smoke of ice creeping from beneath the frame and no bodies, she prayed there were no bags behind that door. She was shaking and as she steadied her balance and pulse gripping at the door handle, she struggled to get out of the hall and to the stairs. " Sandra..." her heart stopped as she heard a different voice, a much deeper, much more hollowed voice groan throughout not only her ears but every inch of that hallway. As she looked towards the closet it had been opened just a crack.
Something darker than the shadows of the building, than the insides of that closet's own darkness creased the carpet as if a series of fingers delicately clawed upon it. A red light dawned from the top edge of the door from within " I'll be seeing you soon. " the door had slammed shut with such a horrible laughter groaning throughout all the walls around her, so loud, so viciously that she gave into them and passed out.
- Insecurity and the Dog Skull -
Every few feet down the lone halls you would find that every other overhead light was off as the other on. Years of external pleas from global and health conscious concerned nits had seen to that much when it came to energy conservation. Still, even if there were those patterned bits of darkness in between the light, it sure as hell had some ambiance to it. On the third floor between one of those patches was a single metal door that was black, unlike all it's other twins whose only alternative identity was in their cast and finished wood. This door belonged to office 45 C, the floor above B which was also the second. Above was floor D and of course the forth and by the recent circumstances was much rather considered as best non existent after the grisly circumstances that it hosted three days previously. Inside the office of 45 C, past the locked door and various unlit cubicles was a single grey one nearest the alternate fire escape window which never opened and none could see from.
A single cubicle large enough to play it's own host to eight reluctant people whom circled one another with an unknowing resolve for a conflict so desperately terrifying that the last half hour proved little more than ounces of reasoning in it's wake.
The incident on the fourth floor, the body of a woman none of them could truly identify with yet somehow influence them so greatly was the sheer catalyst of what was holding them all together now. Pam Margenie was her name, had been her name. She was dead now and while the thought of taken mortality is a mystifying if not morbid thought all to it's own, it was more than that. It was not a natural case of passing, and it was not as simple a matter of manslaughter. It was something more because when they found the torn up remains of what was once Pam, they found a rather peculiar tone to her skin, a tone darker grey than the cubicle they were housed in. Bloated like an engorged and wrinkled water balloon. Pam had appeared to have drowned with no water in sight. The brutality of the scene was littered in the obvious signs: A struggle, the various dents and bruises amongst her arms, neck and face. The sheer look of malformed terror in the blackness of her eyes staring out like cast stone at the very thing which ended her existence.
A trail of four lines in her blood had extended past the body and separately towards four doorways past her feet and in the opposite direction of her head. The ones that had been nearest her body and furthest away from the exit. Past those doors was nothing more for they had never been opened, and the blood ended there beneath the wedges of the frame. What did not end however was the clearest singular word to best describe the circumstance: why? How was also involved in that category but even in the time of three days there were only questions involving why and how but never any answers. That was not bound to change either because as far as the examiners had numerously murmured, the woman had died of cardiac arrest before the bleed out. Why indeed. Why the trails, why were pieces of the woman so seamlessly carved off and where were they now?
Who else could have been there that night and why had the woman had the looks of a corpse that decided to take a dip in some water for a week when it had only been a single evening? The woman that was Pam was dead and that was certain, but the only other certainty was that she was a proving ground in the most minuet way that whatever had been following each and every one of the eight people in the cubicle now, that it was more than in their thoughts. It was more than shadows and skeletons and things in closets. It was real and able to touch each and every one of them. Pam's loss had been the appropriate message that they had all the more reason to guard themselves and possibly even each other. Why was not relevant any longer. It didn't need a reason when it could reach out and amongst them all, Sean had known that philosophy best now, whether he wished to or not. Even then in the dim light regardless of how much he was there, another part of him was somewhere else in the past, five days ago in the office of Steven Jed.
" So, tell me about the last two weeks. " Sean had been diverting his eyes on everything he could within the subdued and green room. Everything here was held on the basis of being calm, after all, the only people that entered them were doctors and patients. Sean was the latter and while the last two weeks had been a brief respite from that fact, it no less devalued the obligations of his return. Illegally he had silently broken that obligation but somehow it felt right to get that air. Not like now as he stared too long at a simple brush stroked painting of various colorless tones. Here was stagnation and repression hidden behind books that no one read for years and a smell of antiquity, that which never changes, stuffed in the dust that lay on the brass floor lamps and the white ceiling fan as it quietly whirred above just the two of them. " Well...Dr. Jed that is a...reasonable question. I guess the last two weeks I was out on vacation. " Sean had given a nervous flutter of a laugh.
He wasn't good at hiding things that bothered him; the laugh was his dead give away when reprisal was on his mind. " I...uh. Just needed some time...away from here." he flatly stated as his eyes returned to Steven. Dr. Jed wasn't a man all that much older than him. Save the two year difference, that made the man Forty Five, though he had a much older look in less obvious ways. It was this tiredness in his eyes that spoke of hushed cynicism and diluted expression in his un-flexing iris. He had wrinkles too, on either side of both those eyes. He closed them a lot to be sure and for that very same reason it gave Sean Bandleton the feeling that this same doctor was more of an unflinching puppet so far away that he could not see him, not behind the desk, not outside his office window, not even out past the parking lot. Dr.Jed was somewhere else altogether that Sean could not see and that on it's own was a reminder of the uncomfortable feelings that welled up inside himself.
He could see the suit but not the man and there was something so inhuman about that. Something so similar to lace that inhumanity to the very episode of the experience that befell his family and him so many years ago when he were just a boy. " You know...Sean; I believed previously that we were on a much greater step before this 'vacation'. You of course are fully aware of your actions and how this may require you to spend a bit more time with us, yes?" Even after Seven years with this man that voice had never once changed in it's tone. Oh yes Sean was listening but receiving was a different matter of opinion. Recognizing the concern, there was none there. It was dry and dusty like every other piece of furniture in that room. He knew the repercussion but it was hard not to defy it. Those past two weeks...felt different. He'd almost had normal sleep again for a few nights, he didn't wake up in his own sweat and for the first time he ignored that voice in his head so desperate to beg and plea he look through all the windows in his home. " The nurse will of course hand you the revaluation schedule sheet and we will need you to fill out a few additional things. I hope we can gets past having a repeat of all this. While I do have you though perhaps you would like to be more specific in your recent activities outside the facility. Clarify maybe if that included consumption of any psychosomatic substances, alcohol? " the thought hadn't even been occurring to Sean as he felt each and every one of those words press into his ears.
No, the drinking was over and had been discontinued for some time. It wasn't coming back no matter what came his way because that was a whole different chapter filled with things he no longer wanted to look back on. It was better that way to be certain. " No Dr. I think it was...a boring trip. Nothing special. " his voice almost seemed to mimic the man and perhaps maybe he heard it too as his left eyebrow raised. That was all though and the doctor stood to his feet to smooth out the white creasing on his suit. " It's good to have you back with us, Bandleton. 3:00 next Tuesday. " the shaking of his somewhat sweaty hand and Sean was out the door as simple as that.
He knew there would be so much more coming for him later on. Maybe the next two or four days whether it was the call or in the mail that he'd find that contact giving the full write down of the misdemeanor he had just freely attended. For some reason though he was no longer so cut down, in fact, a part of him actually felt bouncy at the change in the air. He'd had a brief taste and that made all the difference in the world. As he walked out the front doors of the building, he took in the brief taste of the cold and semi sharp afternoon air. It had been winter for the last month but December there didn't have the habit of being nippy. Certainly not cloudy as often either but Sean had this odd way of wearing just the right thick coat for the day subconsciously without realizing it always fit the occasion. Why just last year he had found himself driving with a raincoat on. The sky was so clear and sunny that it could appear to remain that way for a good whole week. No matter how many times it may have happened though he never could believe it was anything other than coincidence, even as he left work that same day at five to find a monsoon sweeping the roads. Such strong winds it felt like they lived more along the Florida coasts than Kansas.
He just had the habit of dressing always for the right occasion. Even in the cold though there were still plenty of people on the streets. School was out and so as Sean walked down the block he found himself circled by two girls on skates as they giggled and flee-ted away shortly thereafter. He didn't smile but he felt like it inside. The Backney public park had the look of fall still over it with the oaks leaves still red and yellow. All the benches were empty and he might have considered sitting in one for a little bit. Just to think but what to think about wasn't something that had crossed his mind. It didn't matter, he had plans already waiting to be done on his day off from the office. His younger brother had recently gotten in touch again and while there was more than distance between them in the physical sense, there was always the matter of family that made it harder to see.
Far enough to forget at times but not enough to request permissions for personal references. That was part of it but the whole was that up to that point Sean had actually not used his address in so long that he'd completely forgotten it altogether. He was quite sure though that he'd kept some letters with it on hand in his desk drawers. So the park was empty once more as he left though maybe there was more beneath the fallen leaves that was near impossible for a human to see. It may not have been as empty as it appeared for within the cracked bark of the swaying branches, beneath the rotting body of a squirrel and all the worms which called it home, there was something else there in the park all that time before Sean had come, remaining as he left and knowing exactly where he was going because it was there too. Just waiting for him as it did so many others.
The office was busy and bright inside even with the overcast peering in from the outside. Within there was this untouchable energy when everyone gathered,d like this chaotic kindergarten of adults and blaring constant ringings from various telephones. The Whirring of the fax machine as it tore at the edges of some sheets going down, and all the voices. In a way though all that chaos was more inviting than the peace outside the place. He couldn't find a letter but he did manage to find a logist's form with his information. Nothing necessary so it was good enough to slip in his pockets. His thought were drawn on the return home but something else was there, something different. It was this distant anxiety like a compulsive desire he could not quite grasp. He was not even fully aware enough as those thoughts consumed him that he rudely elbow brushed against a quite confused and now offended Pam Margenie who would continue on that day without the slightest understanding that the man she had just passed was fully within the grasp of something that simultaneously considered her just the same a benefiting treat. As he wandered down the hallway of the third floor he found the elevator already open and empty as if already having been called for him.
It would have been as simple as walking in and pushing the button but his balance felt swayed from anything as going forward. Gravity was off on it's own vacation as he felt himself lurch past it. His thoughts could not even process enough of what was going on even as he turned the corner and found himself staring at the stairway door. For a brief moment he could have sworn to see a shadow brush past the small glass rectangle above the knob but things were off then in such a queer way it didn't phase him as much as it should have. Yes the stairs were a perfectly acceptable course. His body felt light as a feather as he seemed to float down the stone steps of the square winding. The lights in here were a bluish white and it always gave the most weird hue between the grays of the steps above and below, as if they were discolored in so many ways.
Sean was somewhere else however, far enough deep inside not to appreciate the quirk but in such a shallow enough area to notice the second floor door slide shut. As he neared it from the steps the light just above it's frame flickered and unlike the floor above, the glass on the second floor was darker than any shadow he may have seen. In fact it was beyond the spectrum of pitch black. It was at this time that Sean was starting another internal response, one that no amount of indifference or lightness could withhold away from his mind or thoughts. His hands were moving against his own will or reason and as he forced open the second floor door he was fully conscious inside and out enough to attempt pulling away. He was terrified now and the more he fought it the greater this overwhelming sense of disregard tried to dissuade him otherwise from taking action. For Sean it was far too late however as the door closed behind him. His body struggled against the repulse and he staggered through the hallway in the darkness. The light should have been on but they were not. In fact there was nothing in the hallway, no lights, no plants, no doors, no carpet. An empty landscape only confined by walls yet now seemingly stretching endlessly in the dark he so rightfully feared now.
There was more though, so much more grasping at Sean as he staggered almost drunkenly, tearfully into the unknown. In his thoughts memories had come back to him, remembrances from his childhood that not even the alcohol could hide decently. Back when he was a little boy no older than five and awakening to the sounds of a window glass breaking. The yells of his mother and father as his three year old brother cried beside him completely unsure. Somehow though he had slipped from those clinging arms of his sibling, somehow he had made it to the stairs before his parents and been down them. Hearing the distant howling and barking of their German Shepard turn into whimpers and shrieks. Somehow he had found his way to the kitchen and stared upon the shape of darkness taking form near the kitchen table. To see the shadows sculpt a stranger ready to strike but not making any step closer. And when his father flicked on the light it was more than a blood drenched overcoat slipped over a chair. It was a jerry rigged mantle displaying Max's severed furry head lopsided on one of the wooden beams like a fine art's display.
A sight so grotesque it would not only chase after Sean's nightmares for the next 38 years but it would grind it's canine teeth into his waking moments and draw the blood of lost innocence and the question that always asked but never had an answer: Why? Why was nothing taken, why just the dog? It had happened so quickly that it reveled reason and defied any form of logic. It was more than the dog though, it was more than the blood which pitter pattered against the kitchen's tile floor. It was the injustice of never finding out who and why they did it. As far as Sean was concerned up until then he had come to grips with an understanding that Why was irrelevant because some things in that world were beyond reasoning. They just were because they could be and that scared him the most. Without logic, without answer. Only to exist to torment our every waking moments until we could slip into the nightmares again.
His whole body shook with a cold far more chilling than the air around him as his senses returned him to the present. He could feel his legs again, his arms, and he slumped into the right hand wall. He felt so sick and overcome in a dread that could make a man want ten hangovers in it's place. That was when he heard the clicking guttural growl arise from behind him. How far had he been walking? He wasn't sure but as Sean turned he found a darkness so deep and so drenching that not even the light of the stairwell could be seen.
What he had seen however was a sobering sight so indiscriminately wrenched from a horror novel that Sean's Deepest nightmares paled vastly in comparison. At first all he could see was the blackened leather, the strange wet stain trailing down the chest of a coat to drip at the floor. As he continued to trail his eyes higher up he found the ceiling had grown taller to accommodate whatever ascended the limp shoulders. Resting at the head, what was the head, were a hollowed canine skull, grinning widely as a skull would. It's lower jaw though dislocated seemed to shake and click against the upper like a nervous rig. That clicking of bone only growing more excited and hungry. In the left hollowed black of it's eye hole was a grinding and as it splintered and cracked more open a glinting metallic shine arose from within even in the darkness.
A hook slid along the bone until it was almost reaching midway through and to him. Sean could not say anything, in fact he said nothing because the only thing that had left his mouth was the bewildered choke of a scream only the facing of a fate worse than death could bring out. He'd turned, ran and almost tripped three times into the straight narrow passages of the way. Each time he looked behind him it was always closer, never further. The sound of it's teeth clacking together with such fierceness they threatened almost breaking against one another, and the sound of that hook grinding against the bone only deepening.
The hallway had begun to change with each step he took. He could feel it beneath his heels, shifting almost organically. No longer had it been flat, it was twisting, raising and lowering and as he found himself turning, he was no longer in a hallway. He was in a brick laden labyrinth. Countless darkened doorways on his left and right seemed to meld and blur as his feet slammed into the uneven brick. The air wasn't just cold, it was old, older than the tombs of Egypt, and more dead than any cemetery the world could hold. Sean's heart beat above his breathing, his sides stabbed inside like miniature flint knives were carving his lungs. Amongst the cracked walls were lit torches, and as Sean ran through the third passage on his left he came to find a series of paintings near each one individually.
They were of humans, men, all aligned with each flame. Napoleon, Julius Caesar, Adolf Hitler, Hannibal Barca , Cyrus the Great. As he made another left he had nothing left within himself. Not air, not energy, not enough of anything left to escape whatever hunted him within those walls. He closed his eyes and for the first time in his entire life Sean had prayed to whoever might have been listening. When they opened he found there to be stone unlike a labyrinth but the stairway at his knees. There were no torch lit walls, nor never ending darkness. Had it all been inside his head? Sean didn't know but the fear he had witnessed was far from disregarded. He couldn't get up, not yet. A soft click of the second floor door drew his eyes to the glass above the knob. Behind it was that same unnatural darkness and he swore he could hear laughter behind it as the clicking drew distant, further then gone.
- Katherine Swims With The Fishes -
You ever have an off day? The kind where when your eyes opened and the sun beamed in, you just couldn't feel the warmth it gave? How about fighting against the center of gravity when all it looks like to everyone else is that you're just standing still? On an off day things can really turn on you when they're otherwise just things you never notice and take for granted. That includes all the flaws too inside and out. For Katherine on a typical day the goal was straight forward: Do your best not to waste the limited energy you're given. On an off day that was a suicide pact for her. Today had been an off day just as the last had been because on that particular day before, Katherine was completely force fed a plate so bitter that the taste couldn't be shaken. It was more than tasting it on her tongue, it was seeing it again, it was smelling it. Besides the fact that the weather was more cold than usual, that the sky had been cloudy that entire week The body of Pam Margenie that had been found was the worst dish of all. She'd seen it, could smell it and could taste every inch of the corpse that was once that woman.
She hadn't truly known Pam other than the usual kind of association co-workers would achieve on a daily basis. Every now and then she'd see her silver white hair bouncing amongst the skim of the cubicle's edges as she passed by. She would have been Seventy Four towards the Twenty Eighth of December, hell of a run for anyone. It was almost a crime she had spent the last sixteen of those years wasting what had been left behind paper work and silent commitment. She wasn't married either, had no kids any that was evident enough by how plain and empty her own space had been. As she stared into those empty pools of her terrified gaze, almost following them as they stared out into a place no one in that office could see, she wondered " Was it worth it for you Pam? " It almost felt cruel to her thinking that but hey, it was an off day. Now Katherine sat Crossed legged in her fuzzy pink pajama legs and loose white t-shirt trying to feel something else other than awful.
The Cereal wasn't stale any longer, it was soggy and becoming mush in the bowl she left on her living room table. She'd been meaning to go to the store the last week but something about bumping into more people didn't settle well with her. There are two kinds of people in the world. Those whom are Extroverted and craving the social lime light. The kind that chase parties and hang out with groups, get rowdy and have what every one else would call a " good time " and then there were the Introverted. the absolute opposite on every word of the meaning. People gave them headaches when they got loud, and when others came then they would leave. It was as simple as that really; incompatibility.
She'd been that way since as long as she could remember and it wasn't something she disliked about herself either, not like the others she met all throughout her life so far made her feel. It was that same quiet and withdrawn composure she was grateful no one had seemed to notice her exhibit as she sat crossed legged on the carpet in Keith's cubicle that night she would remember after tomorrow. She would remember it well because that was the night that for once she found that words weren't needed to make someone, anyone like her feel safe when the one feeling she clung to the most was the acceptance of suicide over the will to continue on and face a terror so real it had came from the edges of her own mind and touched her, scratched her cheek to draw blood and a promise it would only get worse.
For now however as she sat there that morning completely lost between the decision of watching Television or reading, she was just as blissfully ignorant of the true threat that hung around her throat like a nuice, held by a jury which knew no rights, no fairness and no morality. Not then but soon enough because when she had seen the body of Pam, Katherine had allowed the very same thing that had killed the woman entryway into the deepest most hidden part of herself. A place where the
best and worst of ourselves are hidden especially from our thoughts. And when it knew her fear she was a part of the unmoving force that hungered individually but especially for her now. The old woman was a bait, and meant little to nothing to what had torn into her eyes and into her skull to feed upon her splintering thoughts. She had tasted old, weak, but the anguish in her screams proved sufficient enough to warrent personal merit. Katherine Fish was the real taste it was after and soon enough those same screams would be more filling than anything else it had consumed in a long while. Towards noon Katherine had managed to go over four Zeno's insider magazines in full detail, skim through thirteen different channels before losing interest all together, and even shower twice out of boredom. It had been more than enough to occupy that gap of time the past three hours. As she set the rim of her glasses firmly on the nose it was all she needed before she headed out her apartment's door. By the time she was on her bike she was regretting the stuffy feel of the sweatshirt hidden beneath her suit.
The air had been cold that day though and while the rain had stopped you could still taste the water in the air. That made her shudder at the thought, not just because it reminded her again of the splayed out body, but because there was something else Katherine did her best to force from her head. The same thing that drove her to move away from anywhere that might have been wet. It was gone now, the smell and the memories she stressed heavily to remove from the moment. It didn't rain often, in fact it was rare, but the amount it had been raining that week felt like an impossibility. She only hoped it would end as soon as it had came. Things had been different around the office that day and it wasn't just the overwhelming silence that had taken place. The phones still rung and people still answered them but when the lines went dead, the screens went off or the chairs were left there was this thing behind so many of their eyes.
There had been rumors of a serial killer around town but Katherine knew more about that being just what it was: A rumor. She read the papers, read online and had TV, most of all she had time without interruption or distraction. Up until the sudden and unexpected end of Pam, there hadn't even been as much as three D.U.I reports in the whole town. No, it was something else that went deeper than her death and it wasn't in all of them, not yet. When you are around people after awhile, you come to learn a lot about their personality, how they respond and act, who they are and are not. You don't even need to talk to them if you're good enough a listener. That is what Katherine was after all, a listener. So when she passed by Bill Noalon, an otherwise serious man who usually hid half a perky smile when he thought no one was looking, was as blank a slate as a tombstone, it was more than Pam's death that was written over him. There was a fear because when he greeted her, his eyes darted to the lower left too quickly. The sign of something hidden inside anyone that was trying to keep it as best hidden as they could. It had failed him and Bill wasn't the only one. As the day went by and she made her way through, Katherine had came to find four others with that similar feature. Not the kind of fear like being mugged down the street at gunpoint. That was tangible, stressful and more stringy. The fear Bill and the others were exhibiting, well, Katherine didn't know what to make of it but something about it began to consume her too.
It made her uncomfortable because as she thought more profoundly on it, she believed it somehow went deeper than a single woman's death. It may have been much worse and she didn't understand a fraction of it. There was a habit of her own though that she had come to rely on every now and then. She had set her hair in a tight pony tail towards Three during her Break period. It helped her think more in the moment and keep the red hair out of her eyes. It was the certain feeling of an almost pinch upon the back of her skull that really kept her that way and while it did hurt, the reward was highly compensating. Even in the realm of the now, Katherine was caught in a time of her own from there out; as normal people took two steps, within her they became five. When the overhead lights flickered seven times it was like thirty two in the matter of seconds. It was by the time she had undone the painful loop around her hair that she had fully realized the office was empty. Where had she been in that frame of mind and why had she not been aware? As she tried to think upon the sudden gap of memory she found it equally impossible. The time was gone and with it so had she been and while Katherine had once or twice in her life been through what was often called a state of meditation, this didn't feel the same. Her body felt weak, heavy and stressed as if she had been running that entire time. She didn't feel any better than she had that morning either.
In fact she felt worse than that in so many ways that she could see black eyes of the old woman staring again into the void. She didn't want to think about it anymore but it was if thoughts were being forced through her head without anyway of shutting them out. How does a woman drown with no water around? She had heard that there was fluid in her throat and deeper but then how could they tack a heart attack on top of all that? Her head was hurting and her heart felt a twinge of anxiety. Her desk clock had said it was eight, two hours past her clock out. It wasn't the time to think about Pam any longer, and for good measure Katherine made sure to mentally note never thinking about Pam any other time either. Before she managed her way out the office door the flash of lightning illuminated the pail white paint of the walls around. As the door closed she managed to peek the rain outside the windows. Great. The lights had been flickering again in the hallways and had Katherine been in the right frame of mind she may have second guessed her steps towards the Elevators.
Had she considered perhaps even playing a single round of solitaire, something she was known to often do after each shift, she might have met up with Kevin, the night patrol that evening. The conversation would have been pleasant enough, short and maybe even due for a renewal later on because he had an enjoyable personality. Katherine however like the others before her was not in the frame of mind that was meant to fit her. On the contrary she was molded into something so well fitting that it tore at the seams the more she attempted to understand it. That fifteen minutes before Kevin would not come because in it's place came something far less pleasant, and merciless if there was ever a better definition for the word. When her finger uncertainly pressed the elevator's floor button, the lights had all gone out at once. At this time of the night it was beyond her own sight and even if the moon had been out, the clouds made certain no light would be visible enough to help Katherine be any less blind than she was now. They say that when you lose one of your typical senses, the others grow stronger within it's place. They also say though that it takes time for the process. For Katherine that time was less than five minutes as the sounds of the rain pelting the glass filled her ears, and every moment they were drenching the part of her brain that could hide no more a fear that made her hate anything wet, even showers.
When she had been younger, Katherine had a rather unstable relationship with her family. Rather it was her mother and father that had the instability in her place. The fights were loud, the crying was louder. Sometimes it wasn't just her mother who cried either because something inside Nathon Fish was off in so many ways that he saw his wife in his daughter. When he found that he also saw the woman he hated and not the child who couldn't understand why he hit her hard across the face, he grew more upset. It was a ride he had no steering wheel to and it only got worse because it was more than marriage problems that had fed on everything that was his patience and sanity. Something inside him had grown so out of place that the thought of ending his life just wasn't enough anymore, he wanted to erase all of that with him. Starting with the one thing he had brought into the world.
She'd only been Seven when he came to her early that Thursday morning telling her that she could take the day off school. She was tired, confused but that weird smile on his face somehow stopped her from saying anything else. Maybe she was tired of seeing the other he made when he wasn't really her father. The drive had been a couple of hours, just the two of them. He's said it was father and daughter bonding time, just the two of them. He'd even brought the small boat with them that she had seen in the photo's amongst the family room fire place. He said they would go fishing but he hadn't brought any fishing poles.
By the time that boat had hit the water and they were towards the middle of the lake, his more cheerful mood was more subdued. there were no more smiles, just silence save for the soft slapping of the water against the wood. " Daddy, why ar- " and just like that he had gripped her by the shoulders so quickly, had been upon her so swiftly. The boat rocking and swaying against the slapping waves that Katherine soon met herself. Her head had been held under, every part of those dark waters piercing into her nose and eyes, into her ears and drowning out the reasoning she had. Her legs kicked, her knee scraped against the wooden seats as the air bubbles slipped up past her nose and to the surface.
He was murdering her. An act dabbed in the cruelest of selfish reasoning only years worth of repression and mental distortion could bring. The pain of that cold stabbed at her vision as she stared into the shadows of the lake and through the fear she believed she could see hands reaching up to her from below where the bubbles rose. Long bony fingers reaching to drag her deeper into the waves beneath the waves. The grip had suddenly seized up on her, gripping into her shoulder and head as if he were going to tear it off and then a complete lessening. She was free, coming from the water gasping from the darkness and retching that cold from within her throat. Nathon however had slipped just past her and into the side of the boat with a loud splash, half in, half out. His leg had been twitching and while Katherine was completely unaware he had suffered a stroke brought on from the sheer terror he himself had been experiencing during his deed, she none the less tried to pull his head from the water.
He did not come back up however, because Nathon was not coming up further from the water but being tugged deeper until all little Katherine could hold onto was the right shoe on his foot. His foot had come loose with a gentle pop before vanishing beneath the waves, where the hands in the dark were content with his body now. Where many girls and fathers probably were and he would be the rest of her life. Cold. Katherine was back now, in the darkness so similar to the lake and so cold. That wet sound against the glass treading upon her ears like an unwelcome guest. It wasn't the same sound however, it was different. It was a sloshing like water slapping against wood. And as Katherine turned towards the Elevators to find a curiously bright blue light forming around the edges of the fine metal doors, she was met with a reality that in that instant made her wish her father had finished the job.
As the doors slid open Katherine came to find a suspended cube of water filling the entirety of the elevator, only illuminated by the inner side floor lights. Yet this was much bigger inside than any elevator could be. It was endless and cold; Blurred swirls of darkness creased from the deeper portions of it and she knew that they were hands, reaching and coming closer, but that was not had transfixed Katherine that very moment. Inside the water, floating from the darkness and pale was the bloated and deformed smile of an old woman whose name once was Pam. Even through the water her black eyes seemed so clear and so empty just as her words that she spoke " Katherine, the water is wonderful today. You must join us. "
Everything wrong in the world had been twisting it's way like a cork screw through her brain, ripping apart anything Katherine could define right anymore. As she heard the words every inch of her begged for the mercy of a nightmare, that all of what she was experiencing was no more than the worst of a long night, but she could smell the humidity and metallic flavoring of her breath, like fish. " You'll learn to love it here beneath the Elevator. You'll learn to love it here with all of us. The water is perfect. " and in that very moment Katherine felt the water too around her, filling her body and throat with dark water. And as her eyes truly came to see the terror of her reality, she watched Pam float out from the water of the Elevator and closer to her, eyeless, toothless, but smiling to show the darkness in her mouth.
Something had saved Katherine that very moment and while she would spend the remainder of what life she may have had living with it, whether it had been her or something more, she always remembered it's empowering embrace as it slipped her past the thing that was Pam, that moved her frozen legs as far down the hallways from the Elevators as it could get her. That when she looked back she would find no one there, not so much as a single wet stain on the carpet,a single bleeding cut on her cheek and a lifetime full of nightmares.
- Pins and Needles -
Joel Peterson had what was now uncommonly called a " Frog In His Throat " and by the size of the lump that had nearly asphyxiated him into unconsciousness, he stood well grounded in the face of terror anyone else may and probably would have succumb to. Up until that point in the day everything had been like any other; off in ways he was not fully aware of until it had been far too late, but otherwise the same kind of Monday like the one before it. For Joel there had been an outside party unknowing to himself that had taken such a fine interest in his mind. It was intrusive, deep and very thorough as it went into every part of him that he could ever hide away. It knew what so many others never knew and when it did he had already become a small part of it.
More was needed though, much more because until Peterson was beneath that Elevator where it waited with patience ever lasting, it could not be satisfied. As the scream left his throat to fill each and every one of the syringes that towered above him, as his eyes couldn't stare away from the Red Oak coffin covered in fresh dirt struggling to open, Joel Peterson could only think one thing " Mondays. "
Unlike the others he had recently come to acknowledge a more closeness and intimacy only the deepest ornate fears could bring, Joel had been followed by an internal conflict and fear so diverse within himself that it had been threatening an overturn of his conscious for years now. One fueled by self righteousness and a personal pretense he himself had spent years concluding to be rightfully owned and therefor entitled to him alone. Being frank, Joel had a distrust of the people around him; not all of them but some. He had worked at the Uris Branch building out on Milton street just far enough into the city to get the worst it had to offer, but out enough to enjoy the hills and tree's in the distance. While it's main dedications were to internal and external Medical dispute claims, Joel himself wasn't one to wear a tie. He was a single janitor in a bi-weekly schedule of three others. He however had the miserable luck of it all to be the discoverer of the four brown and dried stains leading away from the body of an old woman on the D floor. He'd seen a lot of things throughout his years there and while Eight years might have not counted for a while lot, Joel had seen some weird shit every now and then. Things that needed a second look over if you happened to see them, and as unfortunate as it was, he was the exact kind of man whose job demanded that inquiry.
Hell, on his first week he found a single black Giant's coffee mug with the need to always wind up on the Fifth floor's 65 A Knob. Beyond that every now and then if he turned off the buffer on the A floor, if he listened close enough to the dry paint, he swore he could hear something crawling inside the walls. The thought of rats disgusted Joel; they were filthy with those black beads of eyes, and the worm like tails that slinked behind them gave nervous shudders every time he thought about them. It was not rats in the walls he was hearing though. No, the sounds were larger, more hollow and spread as if four legs weren't the only thing scraping against the panels. As far as he was aware the rodents had not been that uniformed on the move. He prayed to Jesus they would never get that way either while he was still on the earth. Of course if you ever asked anyone that knew the man personally, they would never have known Joel to have a single fear about him.
He was always light, followed by a firm tone which burned in truth only and never doubt. To each and every one of them Joel was an unflinching and well standing Black man whose years were older than they let on inside and out. The fear was there though and as ridiculous as it was, was only a distant intangible kind of fear. Irrational like the wondering of life after death. of course Joel didn't share that kind of fear because he knew what was beyond. He was a Christian and if he hadn't worn his Dark Blue Jump Suit zipped all the time you may have found a single golden chained necklace with a cross hidden towards his chest and neck. Just like his grandfather's; while his Mother and Brother were Protestant, something else inside Joel burned with in acceptance after the old man died un-rightfully. It wasn't spite though that made him cling to his grandfather's beliefs, it was the love and respect only he seemed to give his grandfather when his Mother and Brother thought otherwise.
The very same driving point that had not only wedged between them but utterly destroyed their ties all together eventually. He thought about it sometimes and as much as he was angry with his family for never understanding, he had a strange way of turning that anger always on himself. Never trying harder when they stopped understanding, never speaking deeper when the words stopped coming. The day he left out the door never to return was a looping centerfold in his mind which came and went with a promise to be back, something he himself was not accountable for ever committing to any other.
If they knew that same anger which had filled him all those years since he had been so young, if anyone in the entire world could have stuck their eyes on the inside and not out of what he felt, then they might have seen the unbound fury of a boy who knew murder without right and death without warrant. That was what burned inside him most because even after he knew the truth about his Grandfather's death, even after he tried to tell his mother so many times, she was too weak and eventually too blind to help him raise above it. He was still there sometimes in his dreams. The drawn red curtains, the dust laden divider sheets and the uncovered red eyes that stared widely into nowhere. That same red color surrounding the black circles of his grandfather's sight staring off towards the corners of the room. He had not died peacefully. There was more, there always was but Joel was in no mood to continue through it again as he had so many times. There was nothing anyone could do, himself included at the time.
An era had passed that spoke of so many changes but the casualties of a bitter indifference between color and non had taken there place. Not forgotten and far from over because these things never ended for either side of that gulch. In the middle were bodies of hate crimes and violent prospect by ignorance so flourishing it reached into the lives and hearts of those involved and beyond. And for what in the end? Righteousness, a point to be made, an example to be hung that men like his grandfather didn't have the right any longer to live let alone die like they should have?
The mop squelched deeply as the water spread across the carpet. There had been no steamer for the kind of thing that happened on Floor D but a mop would suffice enough. The water inside the bucket had only grown a dirty and dark tone with each dip and for a moment it had appeared that Joel Peterson were painting the world's largest blood mosaic. It hadn't looked like much but the way it had managed to soak in was far less obvious than when he went over them.
Was it wrong of him to not feel anything as the water and blood swam up from beneath each strand of the fibers? He hadn't know Pam personally but as he dipped the mop of what was once inside her now out, he could not help but feel this surreal intimacy with her as if undertaking the last of her remains out of existence. He'd seen far too much in his Fifty Three years to think on it. He'd seen blood before and while it never got any easier, it always grew thinner. Thin enough to almost be like the water in the bucket. As he stared into the shine of silver and the sludge within, he wondered now if it were more water than blood. More human than metal. He'd seen many weird things through the years in that building, but the bucket of blood was the pinnacle of oddities and as he watched his own reflection vanish on the fluid only to find shadows in it's place, he knew then there was something more now with him than bad memories and hidden doubts. So much more hidden behind the walls that scratched and climbed all around him, watching and waiting with a certainty too precise to be human because it never had been. The shift had been early morning long before most people came in.
He'd forgotten some supplies on floor C and by the time he waited for the elevator lift he was none at all surprised to find a middle aged woman with slightly burnt blonde hair just getting off at the same time. Her name was Sandra and she had a curious glowing smile about her whenever people got near. She had great conversation and Joel knew this because every now and then they shared it on the occasional bump as they had now. That smile was always a little off though; Joel could see it because he knew exactly how to give the same one. It wasn't always happy even when it appeared to be because even before he truly knew more about Sandra, he knew she once had a ring on her right hand. An important ring that left a mark on her finger so apparent that the only thing else it left was tragedy and pity.
There were no words in her that day, maybe she'd been too tired to build the wall to protect herself. There might have been more though because behind her soft stare was a distance higher away than the top of that building. He still gave her the same smile though even as the doors closed and left him alone with his thoughts once more. The second floor had just been recovering from the remodeling plans though Joel had a strange intrigue in the smell of fresh paint. Something about it felt welcome like a brand new start, but of course even fresh starts still had there messy beginnings. The plastic coverings over the carpet crinkled beneath the black soles of his shoes. The white speckles of paint that littered every few feet in front of him had distracted Joel from taking notice of something else not quite usual to those halls.
He hadn't noticed a darkness upon the ceiling that trailed him like a snake, flowing organically and fluidly as if through water. He hadn't noticed that as he stared upon the newly furnished door frames, that the walls and floor behind him were melting away and smoking with a hiss completely mute to him. When he heard the low groan of heaving wood and turned back then, there had been nothing. Nothing more than the taped plastic to the white specks and new door frames. Outside had been cold again and even with what he wore, Joel could still feel the wind pierce him like pins and needles all over. This might have been more common anywhere else on the neighboring states but down there it wasn't so common and especially not as prolonged as it had been that last week. He wasn't going to be out that long though, maybe just enough to grab a drink some place. That day he'd pulled a double shift and while money was good, he figured the space from his current writing endeavors only added the spice of absence. Besides he needed the distraction from the feelings the pen always brought him. He had been writing for awhile actually and while the words were actually good to him, they also stung a bit with each letter. The worst thing for a writer was getting attached. There had to be a distance from the words and the reality but the more he wrote the more he grew trapped inside of it.
He'd been meaning to find a publisher the past two years but every time he thought he had reached the end there was more, always more inside that wanted out and onto the pages. In the book of his own there had been a town slowly being consumed from the inside out by a force that hid within the shadows of the buildings and streets. It was everywhere but the one place it had most power of all had been beneath a single building, beneath an elevator shaft which went further down than the first floor and into a place untouchable by all but a single thing. A formless monster that's only purpose came from the consumption of others and hit had for millenia. The ending never came and as he took an unsteady seat at the corner of the bar he wondered if it ever would. He never drank much but when he did Joel was always reverent on only having a single bottle. He didn't like the taste but he didn't enjoy the buzz either all that much. Made him wonder from time to time why he ever did it to begin with. Maybe it just felt normal just like how he saw his grandfather do it so long ago. Even at his age the man had never once looked sick, been sick either. He was fearless and always bright eyed, the thing Joel wanted to always be but still never could. When those red eyes so sick and gone stared into the corner where the air tube had been cut, Joel had known he hadn't just left, he'd been taken from his life altogether. That the man in his eyes who was like a hero was reduced to little more than a sickly and dieing stranger murdered without hesitation and certainly without pity.
When they explained even his child eyes could see the lack of care or concern the doctors had. Had he been older and looked deeper in them he may have seen a certain sense of satisfaction almost in them, almost. His shift had picked up from where it left, back on the third floor which had for the time being been disallowed any further access even to personnel. For the cleaners though like Joel, it was an open invitation to wipe away the reminders of a fact so disparaging that it would eat any man, woman or child that crossed it's path. Terrible things happened even in the places you felt most safe. It didn't matter if terror was waiting inside a dark alleyway at the edge of midnight or beneath the foot of your bed always ready to drag you beneath. Pam had met a fate so unnatural and so unexpected that she was overcome by it and shortly enough killed all the same. Maybe it had been those thoughts now coupled with the following of the alcohol but Joel began to feel uncomfortable in his heart the longer he spent time there. The marks were gone yet somehow the traces of the stain could still be seen by him and only him. He didn't like it at all. He didn't like the unnatural rhythm of his pulse either as a veil of dread had slipped over him like a plastic bag. Almost like he was suffocating on the air he breathed and that was when he discovered something his own body had disallowed him the knowledge of.
The air had been as cold as ice, for how long he wasn't sure. In fact Joel Peterson was too busy fighting off the warping of his senses as a haze flooded his visions. He could taste the white paint and could smell rats clawing inside the walls. And like that he was released from the moment, reprieved of the suffocation but only for the satisfaction of something far worse awaiting him. As Joel gasped for air he heard a hissing that earlier had been far too above his spectrum of hearing. Now it had lowered to his level and as Joel came to find the floors melting into the walls, as the stains of what was pam came flooding through the carpet like a broken pipe, Joel felt it's power finally upon him. As the walls shifted and foamed towards the floor, behind the melting wood work and paint he saw worms writhing in such a mass, but they weren't worms, they were tails, removed with the bloody cut edges writhing out to flail on the hallway.
He had ran without air in his lungs, hadn't had any time to as his body plunged him through the purest instinct of self preservation and fear. The floor beneath him felt plastic, rubbery every few steps, and wet. His mind was swept in a blaze of horror and a sickness flowing from his stomach; so detained that it could find no better an escape from it all than in the storage closet. Had he been more persistent to push further on, five doors down he might have hit the stairwell door and gotten away, maybe. Instead however as Joel fumbled for the light switch in the darkness of the closet he became aware that it was nowhere to be found. And as he took step after step reaching for it he would discover that where he was now had never been a closet at all.
A sudden sharp pain rung through the fingers on his hands, a hot sensation so deep that it gnawed at the nerves of each digit. His eyes had been opened but they saw nothing. What he thought was darkness had been light all that time; something had made him believe otherwise as he stared at his right hand, looking at the shining red fluid of blood from his fingers. He'd been stabbed at multiple points, all think holes flowing with red now and as his attentions turned to the ceiling he found what was never a closet was instead a room of bent needles. Syringes discarded in a mountainous slope all around him, suspended from the ceilings even as if held by a force defying the relevance of gravity. Bits of glass had littered the floors like sharp confetti, the ends of the hypodermics the party favors that never ended. He'd leaned further than he should have, felt the agonizing stab of the metal penetrate his giving flesh. His scream of agony almost seemed to make the room shake with anticipation. He'd dislodged the discolored tube from himself, watching it vanish into a pile of mirrored glass and metal. Almost like it were alive.
" Joel..." his head had snapped forward again, staring but unsure of what he truly was seeing. He could feel the frog in his throat that would soon enough threaten to asphyxiate himself for across the other side of the room was a single cherry red oak coffin freshly covered in dirt. It's lock had been rusted, cracking, breaking at the force from within struggled to escape. The scraping, the thudding as it shuddered and shook with an unnatural power that the unknown amplified. " Joel...You've been worthless far too long. All of you have. " it had been his grandfather's voice and as the lock gave way at last to the force, Joel let loose a scream so powerful that it nearly consumed him altogether. Mondays, right? From what had been released from that coffin was the overwhelming stench of decay and death, the flooding bodies of rats who could not see the needles, that fell onto, ran across and impaled themselves on all towards Joel. Inside that swarm had been a skeleton with just enough flesh to remind Joel the endless horrors of a man whom had been rotting all those years beneath the earth. Just enough to give it a face he could not shut out even when he could not believe in it. How that grey hair on the tatter of his skull seemed to sway like snakes in water. What had been his grandfather eyeless as he were stared at and into him and oh how that skull grinned. " You belong here with all of us, Joel. All of us beneath the Elevator. And when you see how deep it goes you'll meet all the rest. " Joel had been petrified, unable to look away from the madness that had now gripped him so fiercely it was threatening to pop his head off like a rag doll.
As that mans own neck to reveal a sharpened pair of scissors where his tongue once had been. Glinting in the yellowing and dirty light as it clipped open and closed; sharp enough to cut more than an air tube." No! This isn't happening! You're not real! I've written this, this isn't real! " his eyes had closed but none of it was vanishing. " Jesus, help me. " he groaned into his palms as he tried to wake up from it all. A laughter so old and ruined filled his ears " I ate your heaven's boy, and I spit Christ down into the gutters. There is nothing that can protect you from me. You belong beneath the Elevator with all the rest of us. " His screams only grew as he felt the cold grip of a corpse at his arms. He fought it, struggled but didn't dare open his eyes to stare into the hollowness of the other. When his hand met with pearls of metal and brightness of the light flashed before him, his eyes opened to the emptiness of a closet. No syringes, no rats...no coffin. As he lurched into one of the shelves, about to vomit, he was completely unaware of the shadows beneath the door that reluctantly slipped away. Far from finished and further from satisfied.