are hurting you—hurting you
Whatever resilience towards misdirection I had kept within for my new employer was now obliterated. I quickly folded the note—not rereading the frightening side—and jammed it into the side pocket of my uniform.
________
A day passed—I wasn’t attacked by unseen, lurking men. A week passed, doing my duties as a guard day by day—still not approached by any mysterious men. Three more days passed slowly and grudgingly and although my paths and routes throughout the Envision complex now were memorized and fear of the dark, rain stained pillars and columns dotting the solemn lawn that encompassed the whole place was gone; one fear and terrorizing thought remained in constant examination—who left that note, that note of pure warning.
I had slipped the note from uniform to uniform, often peeking at it while eating and walking about, but no further contacts came. I felt alone and lost in my aloneness. It wasn’t that I missed talking to Dr. Prodere in any manner or form or that I wished to question the origin of my hidden note, it was the utter solitude I was beginning to fight. And on that third day—a day and a week past the discovery of the note—I saw man. A tall, thin man in the distance.
I had been making the normal struts through the buildings and outside, unsheltered corridors when I spotted, amongst a set of encircling pillars and near the edge of my sight, a man. He wasn’t moving and due to this, at first, I saw him as simply another dim, white and distant against the rain, pillar. But when I stopped and leaned at the waist over the railing of the outdoor middle bridge I was on—the same place oddly enough I had heard the whistling weeks ago—and looked through the fallen clouds that wondered the grounds and assaulting water pellets, he cocked his head towards me.
His frame was lean and his clothing undistinguishable. But his face—it was pale, deep black holes for eyes and a little slit for a mouth. I leapt backwards and double backed on my footing, falling on my shoulder blades. I now only saw sky, a dark forecasted blue mirror.
I rolled over quickly and bolted for the ledge and hurriedly searched the far off half ring of pillars for the man—he was missing. My scanning of the field of grass grew frantic and my heart pounded in me. As my searchings gained closer the wall I stood upon, I peered straight down at the foot of the structure, there he was. He was looking, awkwardly, inches from the wall, at it. I could only see the top of his bald crown. His clothing still was indescribable. How had he traversed the field so fast…—he suddenly jerked his gaze towards the heavens and locked a disturbing stare with me. The eyes were gone; rather voids of blackness filled them. Even though it was mere moments held within a mouse’s breath, the fear bubbling from my ears, eyes, and throat was terrific at length. I tore away from the ledge just as the man flung a milky white arm upwards against the falling rain. And upon pulling from the edge that offered such a frightful sight I heard the subsequent slapping of “its” supposed hand on the laid brick wall—the wall I now ran hysterically on and away from. The rain washing the clarity of my sight and a faint whistling chasing me.
I ignored the twists and turns the route had called for and begged my legs to carry me faster. The all too familiar, randomly organized various circular pillar formations and inaccurately placed arches on the foggy lawn careened down below me as I tromped upon the top of the border wall. In and out of the encroaching building attachments I ran, rhythmically receiving droplets to the face fully.
I arrived at the security room’s door all too quickly, for when I threw it open and leaped inside for fearful safety I had imagined it offering, Dr. Prodere’s chilling smile was there to greet me.
I steadied my footing, stopping my legs from shaking and looked at him entirely. He was wearing his normal all white attire and was sitting at my little table—placed before him was my dinner, still steaming in fact.
“You look a little winded my boy,” he said jokingly as he heard me sucking wind from across the room.
I paused, first not knowing what to say, then scared of sounding insane. I settled for sounding idiotic, “no, no Doctor. Just really hungry.”
“Oh… I see,” he stood and retreated from the chair and white, round table, “looks like a meat patty and broccoli tonight.”
“Thank you Doctor,” I said as I took the unwanted seat at the table. Food I didn’t want. I forced a scoop of “meat patty” into my mouth.
“Although you might be hungry, it also seemed like you were running from something. Did our portly chef frighten you?” He slowed his words and found his much too apparent grin and slapped it on, “or did something go ‘bump’ in the night.”
I froze. Looking at him you couldn’t even glean a hint at what he was thinking. I lost all my expression capabilities and attempted to find the soul behind his dark, old eyes. His whole face was like that of an eternally grinning gargoyle, forever in glee, never letting you know why. Dr. Prodere was an awkward elderly man—so our minute of staring at each other went by fairly unnoticed, my juice dripping meat patty slowly sliding off my fork and our occasional paired blinks.
And then a noise found our ears—Click-Click-Click. The motion sensors. I spun around quickly, terror filling me once more—did it follow me?
All the windows that surrounded us held no pictures or forms of life. It seemed as though we were still alone, only pecking water knocked on the sheets of clear glass. Then, I suppose admiring my alertness and stern nature towards the clicks, Dr. Prodere let escape his old and weathered lips a slight giggle. I looked at him a little offended.
“The rain seems to have screwed with them,” he giggled again, “I’m surprised you haven’t noticed. Napping are we?” a final giggle.
“Of course not,” I spurted mortified at the possibility of losing my newly found job. The climate for work back home had slowed greatly and this was a well-paying job on a short list. “I just am a little flustered; I don’t see people very often. Or at all for that matter Doctor.”
“Am I the only one you see?” he asked shifting his eyes to stare me down over his glasses.
Although I was heistant, I believe I still answered with realism and truthful sounding words, “just you. And my wife, she visits my dreams as I sleep. Her name was Heather. You would have liked her.” He wouldn’t of, but I wanted to change the subject from my seeing of people to practically anything else; and my dead partner in life seemed to fit the need.
Dr. Prodere’s eyes however, at the mentioning of the dreams of my wife’s accompaniment, grew stale and hard. He stepped back, further from the table than before, and tilting his head slightly to the left, he sneered “well isn’t that good for you.”
I set my fork, and now cold unused biteful of food down on the plate, “I didn’t mean to offend. Did you lose someone dear as well?”
“Don’t nap while you are getting paid to watch camera monitors,” his sneering was gone and replaced by undisguised loathing with a hint of self-pity. He turned and began for the door—a few clicks called from behind him and I. I turned again, this time with less urgency, he continued for the door. Still nothing but falling water.
The plainly dressed—all white with no accents—Doctor pulled the door open and craned his neck to see me. “I’ll make sure to check up on you more often I guess. What a shame too,” the old man added matter-of-factly, “I actually came here to see if you wanted a few days off.”
There was a loud and echoing slap from behind, this time I did spin around urgently in my chair. The white faced man stood outside drenched and dripping. He was nearly eight feet tall and cloaked in grey rags, his untouched by sun skin peeking out from behind them. His eyes were dark holes, no light or life came from them. He had slapped his hand, a hand with pale exaggeratedly long fingers absent finger nails, against the window behind me. A square piece of paper in the center of his palm pinned between glass and skin, it also appeared wet. His eyeless sockets gawking deeply at my eyes.
I hadn’t noticed but while I had been admiring the sheer amount of intestinal wrenching, utter
black and oozing fear I had been filled with so quickly, Dr. Prodere had walked quietly to my side, leant close to my ear and, barely pulling any spare attention I had to give, whispered, “what are you looking at?”
Then, in my mind and shouting so loud as to make me nearly wince, a voice not my own and exceedingly clear went blaring, “Tormenter! Tormenter! Leave! Leave!—Make him leave!” The head of the cloaked pale one snapped violently to one side to view Dr. Prodere’s full form.
“It’s nothing,” I felt my lips moving and my words were meant for the Doctor but my gaze held the pale, thin man in the rain, who had presently looked back at me.
“Are you certain?” the Doctor’s eyes skipped from me to the window then back to me.
“Yes, just thought I heard some motion sensors being tripped. Senseless rain breaking things right,” I earnestly yanked at my eyes; reluctantly they found Dr. Prodere’s. All my adult concentrations of emotion had dissipated and only child-like heart palpations remained.
He didn’t seem convinced, but he still walked for the door again, “alright then. I’ll be back before you know it.” Then, with no more words or questionings, he was out and gone, getting soaked by the rain as he disappeared into the foggy lawn beyond.
I turned to
Sickeningly Human: Advena Page 3