Do you remember when... (#007-#009)
The empty office, the thing in the night, and those old photos.
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We’re back with another selection of tales dug from your memories. I assure you the procedure was barely intrusive and has only a moderate chance of impacting the clarity of these events that definitely happened to you.
#007: Do you remember when you were the last person in the office?
The timer on the main lights clicked off. You hadn't realised it was so late, but the report was due in the morning. You half-stood from your chair so you can see over the cubical wall, feeling like a soldier hazarding a peek above a trench line. There was no reason to be nervous, nothing to be scared of, but your stomach twisted inside.
Computers hummed, their fans stirring the air. Above the suspended ceiling, the air-con tubes made an odd metallic hiss, like something brushed against them. You looked up, even though you’d only see the white textured panels. Perhaps your stare would be enough to stop whatever made the sound.
Across the office, something soft fell to the ground. Probably a jacket slipping from the back of a chair.
The wheels of an office chair moved, just a tiny amount, almost like they were trying not to be heard.
A keyboard gently tapped a few times. You stood bolt-upright, sending your chair spinning behind you. "Hello?" you called. You felt stupid, but unsure why. There must be someone else there. They'll reply in a moment.
There was no reply.
You saved your work. It could wait until the morning. It would be a little late.
You didn't bother putting on your jacket, you just grabbed everything and headed for the elevator and its bright, sterile walls with no places to for anything to hide.
As you passed by the cubicles, all the screens were black, except one. A document was open, with two words typed on the screen, but you ran before you could read them. You shouldered your way through the stairwell door—a faster option than waiting for the elevator—and didn't stop running until you were outside and panting in the freezing autumn night’s air.
#008: Do you remember when you couldn’t move in the middle of the night?
You didn't usually wake from your dreams. Something made you stir. Your flesh was cold and heavy. Instinct told you not to move, not to make a sound.
There was someone in the corner.
A tall shadow.
Could it be the dressing gown, you'd hung from your door? You'd even thought when you hung it: 'one day I'm bound to get a scare from this'. But, no, it wasn't that. It took deep, rasping breaths, like the air was hard for it to process, like it fought to be there, as if it had come from somewhere very different.
Its darkness swallowed all light, leaving only an outline of impossible void in the already shadowed corner. It sucked away heat and hope. The room turned colder, your limbs weaker. You tried to slowly move, not wanting it to know you were awake in case this provoked it. Your body refused to move.
As if it transported without taking a step, it was at the end of your bed. The shape almost touched the ceiling. Its head tilted to the side, as if it were inspecting your fear. Your heart pounded so hard it shook the bed. Sweat dripped from your forehead, beaded on your lips, flooded your body.
You didn't believe in evil, still don't, but somehow this thing was evil. It was malice coated in darkness. It watched you until dawn, when it simply faded from sight.
But, when its shape had gone, the feeling lingered. You think it might still be there, hidden in the darkest places until your eyes are shut.
A secret memory for paid subscribers:
#009: Do you remember when you found those old photos at a jumble sale?
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