He whistled softly as he left his cubical and stepped out into the open hallway, his eyes fixed on the paperwork in front of him that needed copying. The tune he could faintly recall drifted in the air along with the hum of the ducts above pushing recycled stale air out like it would make a difference to the smells that every other office he had ever worked in seemed to create--a melting pot of metal, plastic, food and bodies.
Watching the slight gleam of light kick off from the still rather large device--he often wondered how technology could make smart phones with scanners but copiers still stood like sentries hogging corner space--he caught a glimpse of movement behind him and turned slightly to catch a shadow quickly dart out of sight. It had been getting bolder over the last few weeks, more willing to let him see clearer shapes of its form, but it still kept to itself during the daylight hours.
He hadn't decided yet if that was his good fortune or not.
Carrie had been the first.
Then Daryl.
Followed by Stewart, Kim and Irene.
He hadn't moved her yet.
No, she remained sitting at her desk, just a few feet from where he was at the moment, her now hollow eye sockets slowly sinking in as her skin tightened and withered away. Her honey colored hair still hung in waves, framing her rotting face and gently resting against her boney shoulders. He always loved her hair. And her smile.
When she wasn't being a total sniping bitch.
'A kind face but a sharp tongue is what the Devil loves best', his momma use to say, 'and no man needs a woman that the devil would easily bed'. So he had stayed clear of her, unwilling to let her get her claws into him.
Just in case.
Still, he couldn't let her stay in her office chair forever. Eventually the smell would become too much and he hated having to vacuum up the maggots that kept dropping onto the ugly worn tan carpet. Sometimes he missed a few and he despised the way they would squish under his shoes when he accidentally stepped on them. He was concerned though that the bin of the box crusher was getting full--and messy--and sooner or later he was going to have to find another way to dispose of his colleagues.
He blamed Daryl for that.
The sloppy fuck.
He had definitely let him rot in his chair for awhile, it was easier to carry him away in chunks than to attempt to move him as a whole and he wasn't going to stain his work clothes while the man was a juicy mess of bloated sagging flesh. He had not been sad to see him go.
In fact--as he finished up his paperwork and started walking back to his cubicle--he hadn't been bothered to see any of his coworkers go. That was the beauty, in his mind, of being a temp. No emotional attachments, no friendships, not even a sliver of concern.
It just made things easier when it showed up.
Random, like always, in what ever office he was temping for at that time over the years.
The first time had been...a disaster.
The thing had moved through his coworkers in one day like a wild animal trapped in a cage high on a feeding frenzy. He still couldn't erase the memory of scraping an eyeball off the drop down tiled ceiling into an old coffee cup.
Granted, he could have just packed his things up that day and moved on to the next city that had the best work available to him, but momma would have been displeased if he had left such a mess behind like that.
Momma.
That woman never could leave well enough alone.
'You just let the Angels do their work', she had told him after he had called about...the incident. 'That's what they are there for. To do God's work. Not for you to soil your hands with the stench of the Wretched'.
And he had done just that, because, honestly, he was too afraid to find out what would happen if he did interfere.
It only seemed to strike when he worked with people that were uncouth, as momma put it. Or ungodly. Different. Just unlike him.
Really, he was more surprised when he was able to come and go from a job without having to deal with it, than when it showed up. Those places and people always fascinated him. What had it been about them that kept the creature away?
Because deep down he worried that not interfering would eventually no longer be his other safety net. That sooner or later the thing was going to make a move on him. Or had been working its way up to him from the beginning and no amount of working daylight hours only, or stopping at church for morning and evening services every wednesday and Sunday, would be enough.
If it wanted him, it would have him.
And he wondered then--what momma would have to say about that?
Watching the slight gleam of light kick off from the still rather large device--he often wondered how technology could make smart phones with scanners but copiers still stood like sentries hogging corner space--he caught a glimpse of movement behind him and turned slightly to catch a shadow quickly dart out of sight. It had been getting bolder over the last few weeks, more willing to let him see clearer shapes of its form, but it still kept to itself during the daylight hours.
He hadn't decided yet if that was his good fortune or not.
Carrie had been the first.
Then Daryl.
Followed by Stewart, Kim and Irene.
He hadn't moved her yet.
No, she remained sitting at her desk, just a few feet from where he was at the moment, her now hollow eye sockets slowly sinking in as her skin tightened and withered away. Her honey colored hair still hung in waves, framing her rotting face and gently resting against her boney shoulders. He always loved her hair. And her smile.
When she wasn't being a total sniping bitch.
'A kind face but a sharp tongue is what the Devil loves best', his momma use to say, 'and no man needs a woman that the devil would easily bed'. So he had stayed clear of her, unwilling to let her get her claws into him.
Just in case.
Still, he couldn't let her stay in her office chair forever. Eventually the smell would become too much and he hated having to vacuum up the maggots that kept dropping onto the ugly worn tan carpet. Sometimes he missed a few and he despised the way they would squish under his shoes when he accidentally stepped on them. He was concerned though that the bin of the box crusher was getting full--and messy--and sooner or later he was going to have to find another way to dispose of his colleagues.
He blamed Daryl for that.
The sloppy fuck.
He had definitely let him rot in his chair for awhile, it was easier to carry him away in chunks than to attempt to move him as a whole and he wasn't going to stain his work clothes while the man was a juicy mess of bloated sagging flesh. He had not been sad to see him go.
In fact--as he finished up his paperwork and started walking back to his cubicle--he hadn't been bothered to see any of his coworkers go. That was the beauty, in his mind, of being a temp. No emotional attachments, no friendships, not even a sliver of concern.
It just made things easier when it showed up.
Random, like always, in what ever office he was temping for at that time over the years.
The first time had been...a disaster.
The thing had moved through his coworkers in one day like a wild animal trapped in a cage high on a feeding frenzy. He still couldn't erase the memory of scraping an eyeball off the drop down tiled ceiling into an old coffee cup.
Granted, he could have just packed his things up that day and moved on to the next city that had the best work available to him, but momma would have been displeased if he had left such a mess behind like that.
Momma.
That woman never could leave well enough alone.
'You just let the Angels do their work', she had told him after he had called about...the incident. 'That's what they are there for. To do God's work. Not for you to soil your hands with the stench of the Wretched'.
And he had done just that, because, honestly, he was too afraid to find out what would happen if he did interfere.
It only seemed to strike when he worked with people that were uncouth, as momma put it. Or ungodly. Different. Just unlike him.
Really, he was more surprised when he was able to come and go from a job without having to deal with it, than when it showed up. Those places and people always fascinated him. What had it been about them that kept the creature away?
Because deep down he worried that not interfering would eventually no longer be his other safety net. That sooner or later the thing was going to make a move on him. Or had been working its way up to him from the beginning and no amount of working daylight hours only, or stopping at church for morning and evening services every wednesday and Sunday, would be enough.
If it wanted him, it would have him.
And he wondered then--what momma would have to say about that?
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