Ghost Shadows

by Thomas M. Malafarina

  Cindy looked dumfounded as her eyes nervously darted between Josie and Emerich. Eventually, those eyes stopped at Emerich and she shrugged her shoulders as if to say, “She’s absolutely right, boss. Our hands are tied here.”

  In the meantime, Sarah the Goth girl had taken a few more steps into the area and following behind her was Josie’s boss, Phil Ralston.

  Emerich’s face reddened with anger at the realization that he could do nothing to stop Josie’s outlandish behavior and he shouted “Fine! Believe whatever the hell you want to believe. But this is a place of business not a revival tent. And it’s the end of the workday for most of you, so I strongly suggest you all go home and we will all start fresh tomorrow morning.”

  “That’s fine with me,” Josie shouted right back at him, “But I’m warning you, Mr. Emerich, if you have anyone wash that miraculous sign off the window, I will sue you personally as well as this company for religious persecution and for creating a hostile work environment.”

  Emerich looked as if his head were about to explode and Jill thought he might actually reach out and wrap his hands around Josie and strangle her to death. But instead he looked over at Cindy Smith who slowly shook her head, warning him he had better back down and keep his cool. Without another word, Emerich turned and stormed out of the area grabbing Phil Ralston by the arm and leading him away from the group.

  They went into Phil’s office and Emerich slammed the door shut shouting with uncontrolled anger, “That little holy rolling bitch works for you is that right, Ralston?”

  “Y—ye—yes, Mr. Emerich. She does,” Ralston replied realizing he was about to be put into a very unpleasant situation.

  “Starting first thing tomorrow,” Emerich bellowed, “you have a new top priority. I want you to start collecting paper on that little bible thumping psycho. If she forgets to dot an ‘i’—document it. If she forgets to cross a ‘t’—document it. Every time she says one word to one of her coworkers about religion, God, or miracles, I want it documented. If she farts or burps or sneezes I want it down on paper. By then end of next month I want that mouthy bitch fired! Is that clear?”

  Ralston tried to stand up for Josie to the best of his terrified ability. “But . . . but, Mr. Emerich. Josie is a good worker, one of the best I have. She’s been through a lot in her personal life and still manages to do a good day’s work for the company. I think asking me to fire her just because she got a bit overzealous today is somewhat rash, don’t you think?”

  “No, I most certainly do not think,” Emerich shouted. “She has got to go. And as her supervisor it is your job to make it happen.” Then he looked oddly at Ralston and suggested, “You don’t mean to tell me you and that Josie are playing ‘slap and tickle’ are you, Ralston? You know how I feel about my mangers dipping their pens in the company ink.”

  “No. Absolutely not, Mr. Emerich. I would never—I have never . . .” Ralston stammered. The truth was, Ralston was only about ten years older than Josie and his wife had divorced him a year or so earlier. And he was quite attracted to Josie, despite her idiosyncrasies. Although he could not start a relationship with her, he did his best to take care of her and watch over her on the job.

  Emerich said, “Good thing, Ralston. Because unless you want to join her among the ranks of the unemployed you had better find a way to get rid of her before the end of the month. Do I make myself perfectly clear?”

  “Yes sir, Mr. Emerich,” Ralston said, “I understand.” But Phil Ralston didn’t understand. Under normal circumstances he disliked Sid Emerich but today he despised the man for what he was forcing Phil to do.

  “Now go back there and break up that mob. Send them all home and maybe after a good night’s sleep all of this nonsense will die down,” Emerich said.

  Reluctantly, Phil Ralston did as instructed and unhappily made his way down the hall toward Jill’s cubicle. To his surprise, when he got back to the area everyone was gone except for that new girl Sarah who was staring at the window and tucking her smart phone into her coat pocket.

  “Well,” Ralston said trying to sound as unconcerned as possible, “I suppose I should take a look at this bird shadow that is causing so much commotion.”

  The girl did not reply. She walked silently past him and as he took his place on the ‘X’, just as she turned the corner he heard her say to herself, “It’s not a bird, and not an angel either. At least not a heavenly angel.”

  Ralston thought the remark to be a bit peculiar but chose to ignore it. As he saw the image of the bird appear on the window he said, “Remarkable! It’s almost perfect in every way.”

  Sarah walked out of the building heading for her car. She held onto her smart phone tightly in her coat pocket. Sarah had gotten plenty of good shots of the image with her phone. She knew in her heart it was no bird shadow and most certainly was no angel; but it was a sign. And it was not a sign from Heaven; but from Hell. Sarah recognized a sign from the Dark One, her master, when she saw it. Today was 12-12-12 and Satan had chosen to make her aware of his coming. She was honored to be the chosen one; the messenger to deliver the news of his coming to his disciples.

  That night the Internet was a very busy place indeed. Jill decided to send her copy of the photo to the Weather Channel, which posted it in their animal photos section. She was thrilled that it was chosen and told all of her Facebook friends about it.

  But she was not the only one spreading the news of the image. Josie had sent a copy of the picture to her church’s website where it was viewed by hundreds of parishioners. Plus she was going to email the image to all of her friends and relatives as well as post it on her own Facebook page, proclaiming the coming of the Lord. Likewise, Sarah spread the word through the various forms of social media she and her group of worshipers regularly used that she was the messenger of the Dark Lord and that the seventh seal had been broken announcing the coming of Satan. The result was that by midnight virtually everyone in the area had seen the image on the window and each had their own interpretations of what it might mean.

  By the next morning, Jill had all but forgotten about the ghost shadow. It had been interesting and unique but as she drove to her job that morning, all that was on her mind was the mountain of work waiting for her at the office. It waited for her every day and never seemed to get any smaller. That was why she was caught completely off guard when she got close to the office and saw hundreds of cars parked for more than a mile along both sides of the highway leading to her office. She also noticed several news vans and trucks and saw camera crews walking around to the back side of the office building. She looked up and was surprised to see a news helicopter hovering above the back of the building. She wondered: What in the world was going on?

  Jill slowly navigated through the sea of pedestrians eventually making it to her assigned parking space. She was thankful security managed to at least keep the cars on the highway and out of the company parking lot. As she approached the front door she picked up snippets of conversations and her heart thudded in her chest as she realized what was happening and the potential ramifications to her.

  It was the ghost shadow, that image of the bird on the window. She had been the first one to see it. She had sent it to the Weather Channel and they had posted it on their website. Was it possible that the picture had gone viral overnight? If so that meant that thousands or millions of people had seen the picture. As she walked up the stairs to her second floor cubical she prayed that she was wrong and that all these people might not be there because of her stupid posting. She wondered if Mr. Emerich would blame this on her and maybe fire her for it. Her gut clenched when she thought about it. For her to get fired in this crappy economy would be devastating. Jill felt as if she might pass out.

  Things did not seem much better when she turned the corner to her cubical and saw Sid Emerich, Phil Ralston, and a few other senior staff members standing by the window looking down into the back of the building. Even from her location Jill could see hundreds of people h
ad filled the area behind the office building. She heard Emerich say, “She should be terminated immediately for this!”

  Jill’s stomach sank. Her worst fear had suddenly become a reality—and because of that stupid picture. She had no idea what she and Todd would do once she was out of work. She took an involuntary step backward around the corner so she could still hear their conversation without being seen. She heard her immediate supervisor, Phil Ralston say, “I have to agree with you on this, Sid. I suppose they both have go.”

  Both? Jill wondered. Who else were they talking about?

  “Most definitely,” Emerich said, “Both that holy roller Josie as well as that new girl with the dark clothes; that devil worshipping tramp, Sarah. And the sooner the better.

  Jill suddenly felt a surge of relief. They weren’t after her; they weren’t going to shoot the messenger. Apparently, Josie and Sarah had done something to cause the media circus, which apparently was occurring behind the building.

  “I’ve had my secretary put in a call to both the local and state police. They should be arriving shortly. In the meantime, I’m going downstairs and put a stop to this once and for all,” Emerich said. “And I want you all to come with me as a show of force and solidarity.” Jill peeked around the corner and saw the four members of Emerich’s staff look at him, then each other with uncertainty. She didn’t know what was happening out back but it was clear that none of Emerich’s staff wanted to be part of it.

  Emerich turned to head down followed by his reluctant managers. Jill ducked into an empty office just in time not to be seen. She figured she had somehow been lucky enough this time and there was no reason for them to see her and possibly be reminded that it was she who first saw the image. Out of sight, out of mind, she thought.

  When they had all passed by and were a safe distance down the hall she ducked around the corner and walked cautiously toward the window where the ghost shadow was faintly visible in the morning sun. She found it curiously odd how she had worked near that window for several months and never saw the image yet now that she had seen it once she couldn’t un-see it. True, it was not as prominent or recognizable as it had been the previous evening, but she could still make out its faint image.

  As she got closer to the window, she saw a sight she could hardly believe. The entire back lot of the building from the back entrance to the forest edge was a sea of people; hundreds of them. They all appeared to be excited, if not agitated to the point of hysteria.

  When she looked closer she could see the crowd seemed to be divided into two distinct groups. On the right side of the crowd were people wearing crosses and dressed in bright colors. Some were even dress in robes and vestments, resembling a heavenly choir. They were shouting various religious things such as Halleluiah and the like. Some were singing songs of praise. Some carried gold grosses mounted on wooden poles and others had carried hand-made signs reading such slogans as “Jesus is Coming,” “Repent,” and “The End Is Near.”

  A few were shirtless despite the December cold, and were beating their own backs bloody with long knotted ropes and thin tree branches. Jill believed the practice was called self-flagellation or something like that. She had read about it once but had never seen it before. After today, she hoped to never see it again.

  The members of the left side of the crowd were the antithesis of those on the right. These people wore dark clothing; primarily leather, spiked with shiny silver studs. Jill had never see so many different types of body piercings or tattoos in her life. It was like being front row at a heavy metal concert. Some of these people also carried signs with slogans like “Prepare for the Coming Of Satan,” and “The Dark Master Approaches.” At the front of the crowd dressed in a much more sinister type of dark clothing than she had ever worn to work was Sarah, raising her fist high in the air and angrily shouting something indiscernible through the thick glass. Jill saw that to the right, Josie stood at the front angrily shouting something back at Sarah.

  In fact, it appeared to Jill that both sides of the crowd closest to each other were shouting angrily back and forth. Suddenly it was clear what had happened and why Emerich wanted to fire the two women. Both of them must have gone home the previous evening and began spreading the word and copies of the photo to their friends and fellow believers, each interpreting the image in a way that best served their own belief system. And this flash mob, this pilgrimage of sorts was the result.

  Although Jill was no scholar in the field of human behavior, she knew instinctively that no good could come of these two groups with such opposite beliefs being put into a stressful situation so close to each other. Each group was convinced that the image on the window was a sign from their chosen god and that they were right and the other group was wrong. Even through the thick insulated glass of the window, Jill could hear the constant buzz of the multitude of voices growing even louder, blending together into a dull roar. She could see the angry, hateful expressions on the faces of both sides as they shouted and chided each other. Jill felt as if she were standing on the rim of a volcano waiting for it to blow.

  Behind the crowd were the members of the media with cameras and microphones watching and waiting. Jill could tell they, too, knew something bad was about to happen. But instead of trying to do something to calm people down they seemed to be studying the crowd and panting with anticipation like swarming sharks smelling blood in the water.

  Suddenly she felt a vibration under her feet and realized the back double doors of the office had opened. She heard the booming baritone of Sid Emerich trying futilely to be heard over the ever-increasing din of the crowd. She could not make out what Emerich was saying, but knowing Sid he was ordering everyone to disperse immediately and leave his property.

  As the voices grew louder and the tempers began to grow in kind Jill noticed some of the zealots on both sides who were closest to each other begin to push and shove each other. She didn’t know if the reason for the shoving was to try to get a closer look at the image on the window or if it was simply a result of their disdain for each other. All the while, Emerich continued to shout back at them and the press continued photographing and filming waiting for the imminent explosion of human emotion.

  Then it happened. No one would ever know for sure which side did it or even why but suddenly from the back center of the crowd where both sides blended reluctantly together a large rock was thrown, striking Sid Emerich hard on the left temple. He dropped immediately to the ground—dead. Soon another rock flew and hit Phil Ralston square in the eye. He shouted in pain and anger as his hand reflexively reached up to cover the punctured orb, which oozed blood and vitreous matter, and which would never see again. That was when the trouble began.

  Jill watched helplessly from her window, staring through the image of the bird shadow as the two sides erupted into a storm of violence. Like ancient warriors on the field of battle the two opposing crowds merged together in a flurry of swinging fists as what seemed like gallons of blood spilled to the ground. Moans of pain and thumping of flesh against flesh were everywhere as the madness spread through the crowd like wildfire.

  When it was all over, thirty-two people were dead, including both Josie and Sarah. More than one hundred and twenty people were badly injured with seventy-five of them requiring hospitalization for major injuries. Several days later seven more would die at the hospital from complications suffered on that day. Some of the injuries and deaths were a direct result of blows received during the scuffle, and sadly many were simply trampled to death by the surging crowd. The entire event was caught on film by the media who were safely out of the zone of violence, yet the melee was so chaotic that no charges could be filed on anyone. The press had back row seats at a visage that could only be described as mankind at its worst.

  Later, after the state and local police had regained control of the situation and the dead and wounded were removed, Cindy Smith from the HR department walked through the building checking to see how many workers had been wise e
nough to stay inside and were still safe. Cindy found Jill sitting on the floor leaning against the glass window staring up at the ghost shadow. She seemed to be in shock and her lips were moving as if quietly repeating something over and over.

  Cindy asked, “Jill, honey. Are you all right?” Jill did not respond but kept staring at the image and apparently mumbling the same elusive phrase. Cindy knew as long as she lived, she would never forget the glazed look of despair on Jill’s face, or the words she repeated. Jill had been saying, “Sometimes a bird is just a bird.”

  Automotive Graveyard

  Inspired by a photo by Lawrence Knorr

  No trait is more justified than revenge in the

  right time and place.

  —Meir Kahane

  Like monstrous rusting hulks, the ancient shells of what once were noble classic automobiles now lay hidden from the prying eyes of the civilized world by a thick creeping blanket of overwhelming forest undergrowth. Dozens of trees sized from meager saplings to full grown majestic behemoths towered far above the ground, entwining themselves in and around the corroding, formerly-mechanized cadavers.

  Dense, impenetrable snaking vines of kudzu and other such equally aggressive vegetation likewise knotted themselves so cripplingly about the machines as to make them virtually indiscernible. The upper halves of the largest trees seemed to literally propagate upward from deep within the mountainous piles of greenery-encased metal. Many trees had collapsed throughout the years and now lay upon the mounds further camouflaging the rusting metal relics.

  Unless you were aware that the ancient cars were there or unless you were deliberately searching for them you would be more likely than not to simply pass by the enormous mass, thinking it to be nothing more than natural forest growth.