I don't know why but I have recently been taking a different stairwell to reach my office. The cool thing is that the door is only steps from my cubicle. The bad thing is that I am pretty sure I will be murdered in it one day.
It's creepy. Like hella creepy. Not that it really looks different than the other stairwell. The creepiness stems from that not as many people use it since you need one of the key cards to exit onto any floor aside from the first. I've never run into another soul since I started using it.
Perhaps it is my over-active imagination, but I could see the following one day becoming a reality.
It's late one night when The Office Scribe finally finishes up work for the day. The rest of the office is empty, the other employees all having gone home to see their families and embrace their social lives. She powers down her computer, shrugs on her jacket, and heads for the stairs. Once the door slams behind her the silence is palpable. The only sounds she hears are the thuds of her stylish yet ancient Doc Marten's as she plods down the stairs and her breaths coming in short bursts.
She is halfway down the first flight when a door somewhere on a higher floor slams shut and she hears the heavy walk of someone making their way down towards her, at a pace faster than normal. Her blood starts to run cold, because she has seen wwwaaayyyy too many horror movies and knows exactly what is about the happen.
Slowly she turns and looks up, and stares right into the face of a deranged madman, his eyes bulging from his head. He starts to laugh. The deep laugh of the truly insane. From behind his back he produces a manila envelope, and closes in on The Office Scribe. She grabs her favorite pen, the only thing she has to defend herself....
The following day someone from the office decides to sneak out for an early smoke, and uses the back stairs to make their escape. He is so busy fumbling with his pack of cigarettes he almost doesn't notice the pool of blood and the decapitated body of The Office Scribe lying at the bottom of the stairs.
Panic sweeps through the office as the news of her demise spreads. The police are called and do an investigation. The co-workers gather and hold a candlelight vigil on top of the parking deck. Her cubicle is adorned with black bunting and it is said that no one shall ever sit there again. Building security installs cameras and become more aware.
But they never seem to notice the quiet janitor who always has the same black Jetstream pen sticking out of the pocket of his work shirt.
Never thought I a post from a blog about office life could give you chills and haunt your dreams, did you?*
The Office Scribe
* Sometimes a girl just has to put her degree in creative writing to use.
"If it's not your butt, don't touch it"
1 month ago