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postcocious · 8 years

Text

To the Department of Human Resources

Here lies the /r/nosleep version.

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April 17, 2015

To the Department of Human Resources,

I am writing this letter to make an official complaint about an unfortunate incident that recently happened to me at the office. I believe that I have been sexually harassed by an employee in upper management. His name is Jonathan Herz and he serves as the company’s Chief Operations Officer.

On Monday, April 13, I was asked by my immediate supervisor, Herz, to remain in the office past 9pm to go over some sales and marketing figures for a report that he was compiling for the CEO. It was the first time he made such a request of me and everyone else who was working on the 59th floor had already gone home for the day. As a relatively new employee who has yet to complete her first six months at the company, I felt that declining would not reflect well on my status as an employee and negatively affect future chances of promotion.

When we were sitting in his office and going over the sales percentages, he reached out and placed his hand on my knee. When I stared at him in shock, he moved his hand further up my thigh. It was then that I quickly jumped out of my chair and ran from the room. He grabbed me by the wrist, but I told him that I was married. I even raised my hand to show him my wedding ring, but he simply laughed and said that he was too, and that nobody would have to find out. I rushed home as soon as I could after that.

I thought that that was going to be the end of it when he ignored me in the office the next day, but he summoned me to his office just this morning to pick up some files. When I reached for the files, he grabbed my wrist and showed me a slip of A4 paper with some words printed on them via computer ink. To the best of my recollection, it said: Tell anyone and I’ll ruin you. Not only you, but also your husband and your daughter. You will never be safe, even if you manage to leave this place.

I tried to leave with the note, but he shredded it in the machine under his desk right in front of me. I cannot even begin to tell you how terrified I am, and I am afraid that my silence will not be enough. I am scared of what he might do. I discussed the issue with my husband and some friends, and they convinced me to put it in writing and submit it officially. I am afraid that I will lose my job, but I cannot stand the thought of working directly under this man.

I am writing this letter because I would like to request a transfer to a different department, where I will be able to work under a different supervisor. I would also like a formal apology and acknowledgment by Jonathan Herz, as sexual harassment such as this should not remain unpunished by the company.

Thank you in advance for taking the time to address this sensitive issue.

Yours sincerely,

Natalie Davis

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May 4, 2015

To the Department of Human Resources,

It has been over ten business working days since I officially filed my complaint, and yet I have received no acknowledgement from your department in regards to both its receipt and any subsequent action taken to address the raised issue of the company’s Chief Operations Officer sexually harassing a female employee of this company.

I have been reduced to a state of utter terror these last two weeks, as Herz has been giving me looks of anger. I suspect that he knows I lodged an official complaint. I have received no similar warnings to the first one that he gave me, but things have been happening to me in the office. I have been repeatedly chastised for arriving late to interdepartmental meetings, even when I received the official, scheduled dates weeks in advance. This is not due to personal negligence either, as I check the company’s internal calendar system hourly to adapt to last minute changes and meetings. I even lodged an official complaint to the IT Services Department, but they claimed that there was nothing wrong with my company account, or the devices I was using to access it.

I cannot prove that this is Herz’s doing, but the coincidence of this happening to me ever since the events of April 13 cannot be ignored.

I have attached a duplicate copy of my original letter, in the event that your department did not receive it.

Thank you once again in advance for your consideration in this matter.

Yours sincerely,

Natalie Davis

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From: [email protected]

Sent: Monday, May 11, 2015 12:46PM

To: [email protected]

Subject: RE: Sexual Harassment Complaint

Dear Sir/Madam,

I am now resorting to email as I have yet to hear from your department in regards to my previous letters submitted on this matter.

I have attached a soft copy of my original letter to this email.

Thank you once again in advance for your consideration in this matter.

Yours sincerely,

Natalie Davis

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From: [email protected]

Sent: Tuesday, May 19, 2015 3:17PM

To: [email protected]

Subject: RE: RE: RE: Sexual Harassment Complaint

Dear Julie,

What do you mean by proof? I don’t have any visual or audio recordings, if that’s what you’re asking for. I am sure that the security footage would show me leaving the corridor near his office in distress, if you wish to investigate that.

Are you implying that I need to look through his shredder for the evidence? It’s been over a month now since my first letter to your department. I would investigate his office if I could, but he’s been staying back late ever night since the incident happened. If I stay back, I’ll be trapped with him again and I don’t want that to happen.

Look, I just want to get out from this department, and I want to keep my job. Can’t that be arranged instead? Clearly, he doesn’t want me here and I don’t want to be here either.

Thanks again in advance.

Yours sincerely,

Natalie Davis

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From: [email protected]

Sent: Friday, May 22, 2015 2:57PM

To: [email protected]

Cc: [email protected]

Subject: Sexual Harassment – Update!

Dear Julie/HR Department,

He definitely knows that I reported him. I came back from lunch today, unlocked the screen of my designated company desktop computer, and there was a message typed out on a new word document file. I explicitly remember saving and closing all my files and browsers before leaving for lunch. It was even in the same font he used when he showed me the paper threat over a month ago, and it said:

I KNOW YOU TOLD ;)

I’m so creeped out. Please help me transfer between departments and/or make him stop!! I just want this all to be over.

Thank you for your time.

Yours sincerely,

Natalie Davis

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From: [email protected]

Sent: Wednesday, May 27, 2015 10:33AM

To: [email protected]

Cc: [email protected]

Subject: Sexual Harassment – He’s Going After My Family

Dear Julie/HR Department,

He wasn’t lying when he threatened to wreck my family. My husband received a letter at work yesterday, claiming that I was having an affair with someone at work. I managed to look at the paper and it was in the exact same format as the two typed threats I received from Jonathan Herz. The letter wasn’t signed but I know it was from him. Now he’s spreading malicious rumours in an effort to destroy my family!

So far I don’t think that my husband believes these lies. He knows about what Jonathan did to me. I haven’t kept him out of the loop. But even so, this is highly distressing. He’s trying to jeopardize my reputation both at work and beyond it.

Can’t you put a stop to this? You keep telling me that there’s no proof, but I have proof here. See the attachment for a scan of the letter he sent my husband. Please help me find a solution for this problem. This is stressing me out immensely, both here and at home. How can I feel safe when he’s targeting even my husband at his place of work?

Regards,

Natalie Davis

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From: [email protected]

Sent: Friday, May 29, 2015 9:21AM

To: [email protected]

Subject: He Won’t Stop

Dear Julie,

I don’t know who to trust anymore. I don’t know how he found out, but just yesterday, my husband received an anonymous package at work. It had photos of me laughing and talking to one of my male colleagues at a bar. I can date the photos to approximately two weeks ago, when I hung out with some of my colleagues after work. Nothing happened, but the implication the photos are trying to make frightens me all the way to the core. Doesn’t this count as serious stalking, at this point?

I’m so freaked out that I might just lodge a police report. I can’t take this anymore. Why is Herz trying to ruin my life? I’m so terrified now that someone might be stalking my house. I have a daughter and he threatened her too, you know. She could be next. She doesn’t know about this at all and I’m so scared that he’s going to take it out on her next. My husband is suggesting that I quit my job, but I don’t want Herz to win. He threatened me that he wouldn’t leave me alone even if I left, and at least here I can complain to all of you and maybe something can be done about it! I want you to serve as witness to this. If your department won’t do anything, then I want you to bear witness for me. Somebody has to know the truth. Somebody has to see him for the monster he truly is.

Regards,

Natalie Davis

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June 1, 2015

To the Department of Human Resources,

I am writing this letter to make an official complaint about an unfortunate incident that happened to me over a month ago at the office. I believe that I was sexually harassed by one of the employees under my supervision. Her name is Natalie Davis and she is a Project Manager for the Sales and Marketing Department, one of the departments that falls under my purview as the Chief Operations Officer of HDP. I did not intend to make an issue out of this, but things have escalated since then to the point that I no longer feel safe working at this office.

On Monday, April 13, I made a request to the Sales and Marketing Department for one of their managers to remain after working hours in order to go over some sales and marketing figures for a report I was compiling for the CEO. Davis volunteered for the position, and I saw no reason to refuse.

It should be noted that the following incident took place after 9pm and that everyone else who was working on the 59th floor had already gone home for the day. We were sitting in my office and going over the sales percentages when she reached out and placed her hand on my knee. I was alarmed and made a move to remove her hand, but she moved her hand further up my thigh. My immediate reaction was to remove myself from the room, but she grabbed me by the arm in an attempt to stop me. I informed her that I was already married and showed her my wedding band, but she merely laughed it away and said that she was too, and that neither of our spouses would have to know. I requested for her to leave my office at that point.

I tried to ignore her whenever I saw her in the office, but on Friday of that same week, she cornered me in my office by claiming that she had to pick up some files. It was then that she grabbed me by the hand and showed me a piece of A4 paper that she had tucked into one of her pockets. I will never forget what it said: Tell anyone and I’ll ruin you. Not only you, but also your wife and your son. You will never be safe, even if you manage to leave this place.

I tried to take the note from her, but she tore it up and ate it in front of me, piece after piece. I remember the look in her eyes and it terrified me. I had thought that that would be the end of it, but it only got worse from there.

Initially, it had been largely psychological. She would smirk at me when nobody else was looking, and touch me whenever we passed each other in the hallway. I did my best to ensure that we never attended the same meetings, but she somehow always managed to acquire the schedules for the various department meetings I attended.

She started moving things around in my office when I went out for lunch or had to attend business meetings in the city. It started small, with pieces of stationery being arranged in neat little rows across my table, before escalating to more frightening intrusions, such as photos of my family being switched between frames. There was a recent photo of my son attending his high school graduation. It was taken from my office less than a month ago. I have not seen it since.

It got to a point where I started staying back late to ensure that nothing else went missing. I cannot prove that it was her, but the coincidence of these occurrences happening to me ever since the April 13 encounter cannot be ignored. What disturbs me most is the fact she took my son’s picture. I remember her threat vividly. For their safety, I have asked my wife and son to move in with one of our relatives.

The police paid me a visit over the weekend. It appears that Davis is now accusing me of stalking her and her family. I intend to make a report of my own as I now have nothing left to lose. I only succumbed to her initial threat out of fear for my family, but I realize now that I was only playing into this deranged woman’s hands.

I am writing this letter for the sake of ensuring that a black and white copy remains on hand for the purpose of record keeping, and in hope that the Human Resources Department will thoroughly investigate this matter. Remaining silent when I should have reported this matter earlier has resulted in nothing but negative consequences not only for me, but also for my career prospects at this company.

Davis runs the risk of tarnishing the reputation of this company through her false accusations. Sexual harassment and malicious slander should not remain unpunished by the company. I would like a formal apology and acknowledgment by Natalie Davis, and I hope that the Human Resources Department gives this matter the full attention that it deserves.

Thank you in advance for taking the time to address this pressing issue.

Yours sincerely,

Jonathan Herz

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June 3, 2015

To the Department of Human Resources,

I am writing to inform you that I will be taking emergency family leave immediately due to the car accident that my daughter was recently involved with. As my husband is away on a business trip overseas, I will need to assess my daughter’s condition and be there for her during this time.

I am planning to return to work a week from today on June 10, 2015. I will be in regular communication with your department to let you know the status of my return. I have arranged for all current projects that I am involved with to be handled by my colleagues. I am confident that these projects will be in good hands during my absence.

You can reach me while I am away at (206) 299-6368 or email me at [email protected] in the event of a serious emergency.

Thank you so much for your consideration during this stressful time. I appreciate your time and am eagerly awaiting your response.

Yours sincerely,

Natalie Davis

Project Manager

Sales and Marketing Department

HDP

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From: [email protected]

Sent: Wednesday, June 3, 2015 1:32PM

To: [email protected]

Subject: He Came For Her

He came for my daughter, my Chrissie. She was jogging around our neighbourhood when the car hit her from behind. There were no witnesses at the time, either. It was a straight up hit and run. I only knew because I had been chatting to her on the phone when it happened. I remember hearing the skid and the noise of flesh striking against metal. It happened so quickly that she didn’t even have time to scream.

I can’t prove that it was him, but I know that he wasn’t in the office at the time.

I was there. I checked.

I know that it was him because of the bouquet that was delivered to her hospital room not long after she was admitted. The card was empty, with nothing but a heart decorating the front.

Herz is German for heart, did you know?

It’s what I told the police, anyway. Maybe they’ll be the ones to finally do something about him. Somebody has to.

And if your department can’t do it, then maybe they will.

#horror #reddit #nosleep #short story #fiction

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postcocious · 8 years

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[WP] An oblivious man unknowingly shames some of the most powerful governments and people in the world. For the most unexpected an unbelievable reasons, they continue to fail at killing him. Meanwhile, he goes about his seemingly normal life completely unaware.

Here lies the original prompt from Reddit.

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PLEASE HELP, NEED PETROL, read the cardboard sign in the woman's hands.

He simply drove past. Anyone who was prepared enough in life to carry spare cardboard and a permanent marker pen was definitely not the type of person who'd drive two miles out from the nearest town with insufficient fuel.

It was probably some con artist or professional beggar, he reasoned. They had plenty of those back in Asia. It was easy to spot them when you came from a culture where nobody really trusted anyone who wasn't their friend or related to them by blood.

Unlocking his phone, he refreshed the app to check his notifications. Another ten thousand views in the last hour alone. All he needed was enough subscribers and he'd receive cheques in the mail, or so they said. He could work that out later. What mattered now was the flight to fame through all the views and likes his video was garnering.

"Oh, shit!" he exclaimed, slamming down on the breaks, as he spotted a familiar name in one of the comments. CommunityChannel? The Natalie Tran? Oh god, this definitely counted as being some sort of cyber celebrity now, right? When other famous YouTubers were commenting on your video?

He heard the skidding of tyres as a huge garbage truck shot past in front of his car, slamming into the brick wall on the left.

He stared in shock. It reminded him of that accident in Singapore, where the overeager taxi driver reacted too quickly to the green light and was slammed into by the dude from China in the Ferrari (with his mistress) who ignored the red light.

"Whoa," he said, "Thank God, man. Thank you, Jesus." Making a sign the way the Catholics did it, he resolved to visit a church this coming weekend. Clearly this was some kind of divine signal. It would have really sucked to be killed via garbage truck while rising in the ranks of YouTube video fame.

He went over the accident priorities in his head. First, he looked down, checking that he was okay, before stepping out of his car and surveying the damage. Squatting down, he squinted at the front bumper to check that the truck hadn't grazed it. The worst thing in the world was to be rejected by an insurance claim. He sighed in relief when he ran his hand across the paint. No scratches, no chipping. All was good with the world.

Switching to camera mode, he snapped a few pictures on his phone of the wreckage in front of him. The front end looked crushed. He wanted to step up to the driver's seat to check if anyone was still alive, but was afraid of what he would find. He was not a horror movie kind of fan.

Dialling emergency services, he placed a call.

"Hello? Hello, I need to report an accident. Yeah, some huge garbage truck like slammed into a wall in front of me and I think the driver is dead and it looks really bad. Like, it just missed my car, and--"

Glancing over his shoulder, he saw a figure in the distance. Wasn't that--?

Oh, god. It was the woman with the cardboard sign.

It was legit.

She was a professional thief. She had to be. Who else would walk all this way just to chase a mark? Dropping the call, he rushed back into his car and locked the doors.

"Shit shit shit, she wants my car." Hitting the accelerator, he swerved around the truck and drove on ahead.

#flash fiction #humor #comedy #parody #short story #writing #story #reddit #writing prompts

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postcocious · 8 years

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[WP] At birth, everyone is randomly assigned one law they can break for the rest of their life. You are given... loitering.

Here lies the original prompt from Reddit.

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I waited around for hours for Jim Edge to show.

I wanted to get pictures this time. Maybe a visual medium would get people to change their minds. The government liked assigning career paths from birth, so that everyone's gifts would be channeled wisely. Loiterers like me were expected to join the police force, the paparazzi, or pick up journalism. Maybe even artistry of some kind. Anything that could make great use of waiting in places that made most people look like junkies or stalkers.

People like Jim Edge were expected to join agencies to stay on the side of the good. The angels. That was once the preferred term. Corporations paid big for them to remain otherwise--independent, mercenaries, easy to hire. Many of them opted for secret agencies, or so said the rumours. There were quite a few who went into lab research, as pharmaceutical and cosmetic companies paid big money for their gifts--they were the only ones who could legally experiment on human beings after all, since those kind of jobs always carried the risk of inflicting death.

But Jim Edge didn't do any of those things. He didn't join the government. Neither did he work for big corporations.

No, what he did was use his gift for fun.

#short story #crime #private detective #private investigator #thriller #murder #serial killer #laws #alternate universe #writing #fiction #horror #story #fantasy #flash fiction

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postcocious · 8 years

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[WP] You have every superpower there is, but only when doing pointless tasks.

Here lies the original prompt from Reddit.

&&&&&&&&

When the bullies came after me, I started sharpening pencils in class.

It became so much of a habit that I started offering to sharpen my classmates' pencils, and bringing tons of colouring pencils to school just to formulate a habit of it. I didn't need to, since I preferred using pens. But the task was a stress reliever and I would do it for hours just to catch the sound of lead breaking during a particularly bad twist.

I also found that this habit was changing things for me. Small things, really. I would find things I didn't know I was looking for. Money on the floor. Spare clothes whenever some of the girls would pour juice over my gym stuff in the changing room. A popular girl who tried to knock my collection of pencils off the table simply slipped, causing her to fall face first against the corner of some guy's desk. It nearly took her eye out.

She tried to blame it on me. The teachers found my habit unnerving when they confronted me. It wasn't long before they confiscated all my pencils away.

I came back the next day with boxes of paper clips, which I kept bending out of shape. Some of the girls who came after me kept finding cockroaches in their shoes. A girl who tried to run me off the road found her car crushed by a fallen tree.

It got to the point where one of them summoned their boyfriend to deal with me and I was confident enough to say, "Don't do it if you ever want to play football again."

I think he hit me in the face.

I only remember waking up in the hospital, folding origami boxes from napkins. I left the same day with only the memory of some kind of throbbing around my eye, but no bruises to show for it. My parents raged at the teachers, but I told them to hold back.

"He can't ever escape me," I told them, "I already know his name."

I folded nine hundred and ninety-nine paper cranes that night, because I heard that a thousand made a wish, and all I wanted were curses and what-could-have-beens.

I scattered them all over his car in the school parking lot, taking care to hide some up the exhaust pipe.

"Look alive," I told him, when he crossed my path in one of the halls.

He looked back at me, squinting from behind a pair of half-inch thick plastic rims, his clothes two sizes too big over his now skinny frame, and not a single friend in sight around him.

#short story #writing prompts #writing #flash fiction #fiction #horror #supernatural #superpowers #magic #magical realism #mundane fantastic #creepy

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postcocious · 8 years

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[WP] It is literally always right behind you, but sometimes, if you turn your head really fast, you think you get a glimpse of it in the corner of your eye.

Here lies the original prompt from Reddit.

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It happened because of a mini habit of mine, where I liked to do things in even numbers. If I spun myself silly in a circle, it wouldn't be over until I spun an equal number in return. I had to balance everything in even numbers, or it would nag at me like a heavy weight pulling on the back of my neck until I rectified it.

It started during phys ed, when the teacher made us turn three times before catching the ball. When I was done, I made a quick three-sixty twirl to make it even. I wasn't a ballerina so I didn't have the finesse or subtlety, and one of the girls merely raised an eyebrow as I returned to the benches.

"What?" I asked her, trying to shrug off the uneasiness that her look gave me.

"Nothing," she said, keeping a weird mix of sincerity and amusement in her tone. It only made me feel even more self-conscious.

I didn't encounter her again until the following week's class, where I felt her eyes on me as the teacher designated the number of laps we had to run around the field. I could've died when when the teacher made it five.

It was near the end of the fourth lap when I noticed her slowing down, pressing a hand against her side.

"Er, are you okay?" I asked her, taking in deep breaths of my own.

"Cramp," she replied, when the teacher blew a whistle in our direction. "Help me to the side?"

"What's going on?" The teacher asked, as he caught sight of us.

"I... feel kind of drowsy," she said, her eyes focusing and unfocusing, and she seemed to wobble a bit, causing both the teacher and I to reach out to hold her steady.

"You, take her to the nurse's office," he instructed, and I eagerly agreed.

"Wow, I thought you loved sports," I said to her, when we were out of earshot. "That was some acting. Even I couldn't have switched stories like that midway."

"Oh, I do," she said, "but five laps are three pairs short of one."

"What did you say?" I stepped away from her.

"What, did you think it wouldn't be obvious?" she asked, barking a short laugh. "I've seen you do it too many times. You're so awkward about it too. And you make those kill-me-now expressions every time the teacher mentions an odd number. Tell me, is it just for physical activities or mental ones too? Are you the kind that gets crippled in a maths exam when the answer turns out to be odd?"

I just stared.

"Do you want to know why you can't stop it?" she asked, leaning in closely as though the secrets of the world were only a few whispers away.

"It's not actually an even versus odd number situation, if you want to get technical about it," she continued anyway. "It's all about pairs. Twos. Two peas in a pod, two halves of a whole. You..."

She leaned in closer, grabbing me in a half-hug. "... and your other you."

I felt it more than I heard it, and it was like water coming up to my neck as something snapped my head back, pulling it down like an anchor giving in to gravity. I floundered in her grip, reaching over my shoulder to grasp at her hand, only to find it locked over--

"What is that?" It felt wet. And it wasn't my head.

"I'd say, 'meet your other self', but most people try to kill themselves before they get to that stage." She gave me a smile that was almost mocking.

"Oh god, am I an alien?"

She laughed. "No, it's something that... some people have, and you have to have it to be able to see it."

"Then why can't I see yours?" I asked, feeling her grip on it tighten as it pulled on the back of my head.

Her grin was vulpine, wide and all-knowing.

"Because I ate it, silly. And I'm here to help you eat yours."

#horror #nosleep #reddit #fiction #story #short story #fantasy #supernatural #magic #creepy #writing prompts #writing

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postcocious · 8 years

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[WP] Turns out you've got a knack for magic. If only you weren't a frickin' sandwitch.

Here lies the original prompt from Reddit.

&&&&&&&&

I was always taught that the main limitation of a magic condition was its reliance on homophonics.

In celebration of my birth, the regional seer had declared that my power was dependent on being a 'sand witch'. My mother's first reaction was to rent us a house in proximity of the nearby beach.

We lasted a good decade or so there, until the bills starting pilling up and we could no longer rely on magic to keep us going. The council always cited an annual quota. All magic used for profit exceeding that amount was taxable, and my mother warned me that taxable meant indentured, according to the old ways.

One of my mother's friends helped us rent a place further inland, two hours out from the sea. The problem was that it put us near to Gardenia High, which was famous for its... entitled heirs, so to speak.

It was a scholarship program that got me into the school, and a part of me suspected that my mother used magic to do it. She was always tight-lipped about her magic condition but explained that it was more versatile than mine, though it ran the risk of greater exposure.

I took that to mean it had something to do with people.

The council kept strict rules on magic like that.

Things were okay for me in school until some movie actor's son discovered that I worked at the Subway thirty minutes away from the school. I think he was in one of my classes. The rumours spread fast and by the end of the week, some kid sprayed me with barbeque and mayo in the middle of the school canteen.

"I hope you choke on your sandwich," was all I said before the boy went into shock that very same afternoon.

When I told my mother that he had been eating a sandwich, she shot me an unreadable look.

"Be careful," was all she told me, "some of those rich kids could have connections to the council, even if they are mostly unmagical."

Her concerns were substantiated when the sandwich choker brought his 'lawyer uncle' to the school.

"She's the one who said it to me," he jabbed his index finger repeatedly in my direction. "Those exact words."

"I see," was all his uncle said, and I could tell from the make of his belt that he definitely belonged to the council.

I received an official summons the following day. I could only describe my mother's reaction as something cold. Not ice, but more like the stillness of a slow-moving river. Like she had seen it all before.

I was forced to watch from a cage as the council deliberated for hours.

I wasn't even allowed to speak in my own defense because both my capacity for guilt and truth were on trial. I tried to tell myself that it wasn't because I lacked proper connections or money, but doubt came over me anyway.

"Are there any words the defense would like to offer?" The chief wizard declared. The words were almost mocking. Everyone in the room knew that I wasn't allowed to speak and there were no lawyers here. I saw the regional seer seated just beyond the council table, the ever-silent observer. I felt almost betrayed because I knew that he was the one who named my magic condition from the start. I wonder if he had known then that it would come to this. His head turned a full second before my mother stood up.

"I invoke a mother's right to speak, because this trial is a rich man's farce and nothing more." The look on her face was the same one she wore throughout the trial.

"Are you denying that your daughter spoke those words of ill-intent?"

Her eyes met mine. "No."

"Then what is it you wish to say? For there is little that you could offer in her defense that would alter the decision made by this council." The chief wizard looked pleased. Too pleased. I started to wonder if he and my mother had clashed before in the past.

"This is not the first time that a homophonic word has caused a misdemeanor to occur. The regional seer can vouch for her magic condition, though I doubt that it will be necessary, considering that it's been on trial for the last three hours." Her eyes narrowed as she spoke. "So kindly allow me get to my point. You know who I am, *and you know what I can do*. End this farce *now*."

The chief wizard turned to the regional seer, who spoke for the first time that evening. "Let the girl go free."

By the time we reached home, my mother threw a suitcase onto my bed and ordered me to pack.

"There will be many who take offense to what I did tonight, so we need to leave. There are many who fear what I can do, but I am not invulnerable." She sighed. "It seems that trouble runs in this family. Double meanings can give power, but they can also bring ruin."

"I don't get it," I said, "why were they afraid of you? Is it your magic condition? Can you like magically force them to change their minds or something?"

She let loose a short bark of laughter. "No, sweetpea," she sighed, "my condition is to 'aid'. However, in recent years, that term has taken on a more terrifying meaning. There are some who believe that I could wipe out entire generations in less than an age, simply because there is no living cure."

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Alternative Ending Speech:

She let loose a short bark of laughter. "No, sweetpea," she sighed, "my condition is to 'aid'. Yeah. That other meaning your mind went to? That is exactly what I can do."

#fantasy #magic #short story #fiction #flash fiction #prompt #writing prompt #reddit #homophonics #wordplay #double meanings #alternative ending #story #speculative fiction #witches #council #wizards #seer #politics

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postcocious · 8 years

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[WP] There was a haunted, urgent look to his eyes.

I’ve started taking writing prompts from Reddit’s /r/writingprompts sub. This one can be found here.

&&&&&&&&

There was a haunted, urgent look to his eyes.

"Why are you here?" he asked, his gaze rising from mine to scan the distance. "Strangers are forbidden from entering this place."

What struck me first was how much black he wore. It didn't seem like a deliberate attempt to look gothic; just a plain black shirt that looked well worn and black trousers that could've passed as jeans. His hair was dark too, and messy, like how I always pictured Harry Potter to look.

His eyes were dark too, and there were hard lines on his face. He looked young, though. No more than twenty-five or thirty, at least.

I kept my hands on my camera, which hung from a strap around my neck.

"I just wanted to take pictures," I told him. "They said that this place was haunted and I like urban decay so..." I drifted off. There wasn't much to say.

Or perhaps there was. Nobody mentioned anyone living in these parts.

"Why are you here?" I asked. "Do you live here?"

He only sighed.

"If people tell you that a place is haunted, you should listen to what they say. This is a private place. Leave and never return."

I saw the way his hands clenched as he spoke. I was no great reader of body language, but I understood the gesture well.

I backed away until there was at least thirty feet between us, then I turned and never looked back.

&&&&&&&&

The second time I saw him was in town, around the same time I decided to capture images of a city under waking moonlight. It was three hours past midnight and only the 24-hour grocer was in business, its neon brightness shining like a beacon of all things cheap in a slumbering city.

The owner was a man we called Uncle Joe, and rumour had it that he was half-blind. The only reason he was still in business was because crime didn't happen in these parts. There was maybe one suspicious death every two years, and it mostly involved senior citizens slipping in kitchens or choking on food.

The dark man was reaching into the freezer when I walked in.

Our eyes met for a second, before I hurried down a different aisle.

It took him maybe a quarter of an hour more before he checked out at the counter, taking several bags of groceries with him. It looked like two weeks' worth of food.

I trailed him from a distance, until the lighting was just right.

Turning off the flash, I snapped a picture from behind, a single figure amidst the empty streets, with nothing but the moonlight walking him home.

&&&&&&&&

Developing the picture was easy, but asking about it was hard.

I went back to my earlier sources--the ones who told me about the haunted place. They stood by what they said, even when I showed them the picture of the man.

"That could have been anyone," was all I was told. Even Father Nelson assured me that the property was empty, citing that both his sons often visited the place to look for scrap metal from time to time.

"Maybe someone was playing a prank on you," Fred's mom said to me, and she knew everyone in town. Everyone visited her diner sooner or later. Even the few tourists who visited the town each season.

"He looked like he was in his twenties though, early thirties at the most," I said, pressing the photograph into her hand. "He said the place was his."

One of the patrons at the counter met her eyes. It was the local sheriff's son.

"Probably illegal immigrants, gypsies and all," he said. "Sometimes they bring their RVs, other times they waltz in like backpackers in the night." He plucked the photo from Fred's mom's hand.

"Tell you what," he said to me, "I'll ask around and see if anything comes from it. Heck, I'll even check it out myself. So don't you worry about a thing."

&&&&&&&&

Three weeks passed before two men in suits came by my house.

Mom was alarmed when they said they needed to speak to me, and one of them placed a photograph onto the table between us.

"The sheriff's office said that you were the one who took this picture," said the older one. His accent was a little different, and he carried himself the way some men in movies did. Like he owned the place and knew too many things. The other remained silent, distant, like a statue by the wall.

I nodded. It was a single, short gesture. There was a part of me that didn't want to give him--them--too much.

"I need you to tell me everything you know about this man," he said, lips pressing together into a thin line.

"I went down by the lake to take some pictures," I started. "There's an abandoned farmhouse nearby. Everyone told me that it was haunted, but there was a man there who said that it was private property and that strangers weren't welcome there."

He nodded, gesturing for me to continue. The other started taking notes.

"Is he dangerous?" I asked.

"What makes you say that?"

"Because nobody dressed like you ever comes to this town. And the sheriff's son said he would ask around."

"What happened on the night you took this photo?" he asked, tapping at it with his finger. I imagined all the fingerprints.

I related all the events of that night, down to my observations about the man's groceries.

"He paid, though," I said. "Wouldn't gypsies be broke?"

Ignoring my question, he stood up to offer my mom his thanks. His partner gave me an unreadable look before moving to follow, pocketing the picture before leaving.

I pried open the side window as they spoke on the veranda. The older one withdrew a phone.

"Yes, sir. It all matches up," he said into the device. It looked new, all glass and no buttons. "the crime rate here is practically non-existent. The worst thing that happened in this town in the last two months was some hick stepping onto his own pitchfork while sleepwalking." There was a pause. "Yes, sir. We just interviewed the girl. He matches all our descriptions. The only other witness was some near-blind grocery store--I see. Of course. Yes, sir. If it is him, which I do believe--Understood, sir. We will do so at once."

"They're taking over?" his partner asked.

"This is no longer within our jurisdiction," he replied. "God help this shit town. If they're lucky, it won't be like Perrysburg again."

&&&&&&&&

I looked up Perrysburg and found a black hole where a wealth of information should have been. Turns out it was a small town in Ohio with a low crime rate, until something happened two years ago. All I could find now were news articles about radioactive waste that had something to do with a power plant.

I asked mom about it, but she said that there hadn't been much news about it at the time. She said that there had been rumours back then about it being some kind of government conspiracy, but in the end, it all died out.

I found it strange.

"So what happened to all the people then?" I asked. "Wouldn't they have had to move away?"

"I guess," she said. "I don't think that town had many people anyway, and if lots of people died, we would have heard about it."

&&&&&&&&

I could tell that things were changing when the hunters came into town. It wasn't the right season for it, and rumours floated about that they were probably ex-military.

I approached the friendliest looking one when his friends were no longer in sight.

"Can you tell me about him?" I asked, holding a duplicate copy of the photo up to his face.

"Where did you get this?" he frowned.

"I'm the one who took the picture," I said, semi-proudly. "The agents said that they knew it was him because of the low crime rate here. And what does he have to do with Perrysburg?"

His frowned deepened.

"Kid, if you know what's good for you, leave this town now. Get your parents, pack your bags, and drive away. Do not stop until you're at least ten miles out."

I shivered. "What do you mean?"

"That man is dangerous, and wherever he goes, people die. Whole towns die. So leave while you can."

"If he's so dangerous, why aren't you evacuating the town? How will everyone escape?"

He looked me dead in the eyes. "And risk setting him off? You did good here, kid. I'm surprised they didn't tell you to leave." He handed the photo back to me. "Now go. If you waste any time, you might not make it. Your parents won't make it. Do you really wanna live with that on your conscience for the rest of your life? You can't save everyone, and neither can we. But we sure as hell can try to stop it from ever happening to anyone else."

&&&&&&&&

I hit the ground running.

My first stop was home.

"We have to leave now," I told her. "Call dad. We don't have time. I think they're with the CIA and I think they're here to kill someone and it might destroy the whole town, mom."

"What are you talking about?" she laughed. "Don't tell me you're becoming one of those government conspiracy theorists."

"Mom, one of those hunters told me this. He said that we would die if we didn't leave."

"He was probably just humouring you, dear."

"Are you really so blind?" I nearly screamed. "What do you think the two agents visited us for?"

"Do not take that tone with me--"

"Please," I begged her. "Just pack, call dad. Call everyone. They told me that it would be like Perrysburg again."

She stared at me with something that looked a little like disappointment and sympathy.

I nearly went into a panic attack right there. All I could hear was a pounding in my head and the sound of my own breath. I couldn't drive. I couldn't leave alone, even if I wanted to. I didn't want to leave. Why wouldn't she just listen?

It hit me then.

"I have to go," I said. "I have to stop this."

Whatever she said, I barely heard.

I ran towards the haunted place.

&&&&&&&&

It felt like I had been running for miles before I spotted the lake and the farmhouse in the distance. I was out of breath by then and my knees burned like never before. I don't think I had ever run so fast in my life. If I was a poet, I would have said it felt like flying, without sufficient air.

My arms were tired too, as I had been using them interchangeably to support the camera around my neck, once it started bumping too heavily against my chest.

The photo was crushed in a tight grip. I tried to smoothen it out against the flat of my stomach as I stumbled towards the place.

It wasn't long before I fell against one of the doors, banging a fist as loudly as I could against old wood.

"You need to leave," I said quickly, when he opened the door. "Before the hunters... They know you're here."

He took in a slow breath of air, and his eyes... this time they carried a glimpse of something that looked like bitter resignation.

"How." It wasn't a question.

I think my lower lip trembled. "I didn't know," was all I said. I held out the photo.

"Were you at Perrysburg?" I asked, as he stared down at the ruined piece.

His eyes snapped up to mine. "They said you could destroy whole towns," I went on. "I... My mom doesn't believe me." I could feel the tears coming, but I found no sympathy in his gaze.

"They won't let the town evacuate," I finished. "Please... Whatever you do, please don't--"

I flinched as I heard the shot that struck the door frame, barely a foot away from his head.

Grasping my arm, he pulled me inside, pushing me away from the door.

Leaving the door open, he simply remained where he stood, an elbow resting against the door frame, his body languid, loose, like a panther greeting old friends.

"None of you look familiar," he drawled. "New team?"

A second shot struck near his elbow. He didn't even flinch.

"You should stop," he said. "You know that these things don't work on me... and you're scaring the girl."

"Release the girl, then." I didn't recognise the voice.

The dark man leaned back a little to glance at me.

"... Evacuate the town," he said, turning back to them. "Sound the alarms, give the civilians a chance to run. Then we can finish this."

"What, so you can escape?" This voice I recognized. He was the one I spoke to earlier.

"... No." There was a long pause. "There's no place in this world for a second Perrysburg. I won't run this time."

"Give us the girl and we'll see it done." It was the first voice again.

The dark man gestured for me to approach and pushed away from the door frame to let me through. Placing a hand on my shoulder, he leaned down as though to whisper a secret into my ear.

"Get as far away as you can," was all he said. I staggered out, stepping into the open yard. I could spot the hunters as they gathered at the edge of my vision. They were spread out behind trees, dead trucks, and old bales of hay.

The one who spoke to me earlier made a 'come here' gesture towards me and I rushed towards him. I was barely five feet away when another hunter grabbed me by the shoulder, redirecting me behind a truck.

It must have been their mini command center because there were three others gathered around a man old enough to qualify as someone's grandfather. He wore the same style of uniform but had an air of high command about him.

"One of you take care of her," he ordered. "Then check up with Charlie-Five. Nobody enters or leaves. We are not taking chances. Intel puts him here long enough to have affected the populace. The Perrysburg Protocol is in effect."

"Come with me," said one of the hunters, pulling me along until I kept up.

"Wait," I said, holding my ground. He looked annoyed. "What did he mean?"

I pressed the issue. "Didn't he promise to evacuate the town?"

He stared at me for a short while, before answering. "You've been exposed. All of you. To him. You don't know who he is, what he is, what he can do." I saw him draw a blade from a sheath in his belt.

"I'm sorry."

I tried to scream but he moved so fast, his hand clamping over my mouth, pushing against my teeth as he squeezed my lips shut. I almost forgot to breeze. I flailed out with both hands, my screams muffled as the tip of the knife came towards me. I tried to push his hands up, away from my neck, as he inched towards me, before--

Pain. I think it was shock first as I felt the scrape of metal slicing through something soft. All vision fled my left eye and I felt its absence long before the pain overwhelmed me.

And when it came, in came in droves.

All I remember was blood and a whole field of vision gone, and pain enough that I pushed away from him and screamed--

&&&&&&&&

I was caught between fading moments and waking dreams.

There was an immense throbbing where my left eye was, and I don't remember much. Only darkness, only black. The lake left my view and I saw the blue-white sky.

&&&&&&&&

I heard voices.

One was a scream. A deep, masculine scream.

There were gunshots but I couldn't tell the distance.

Then I heard the dark man speak.

"I have killed others for less." He sounded cold, like ice spanning across rivers for miles. "But for this, I will simply balance the odds."

I heard my attacker say something, but it sounded like gurgling. He spat, and I heard his voice--raspy, like from a ruined throat.

"Go to hell," he seethed.

The sound that followed was like a million pencils breaking.

&&&&&&&&

I woke to the sight of my bedroom ceiling, the vision in my left eye restored.

I grasped at my face with both hands, feeling out all the crooks and edges. I felt the bump of a scar running over my eye.

"Not everything is within my capability, so I couldn't restore your eye. Neither could I remove the scar. But your vision should be fine."

I turned, sitting up on my bed to put the wall behind me.

The dark man was sitting on a chair beside my bed.

"Where's my mom?" I asked, a shiver walking down my spine.

"She's..." He paused, as though finding the right word. "Asleep. They're all asleep. It was the best I could manage, considering the circumstances."

"Will she wake up?" It was all I needed to know.

"Once I'm gone," he answered.

"They were going to kill everyone in town," I said. "He called it the Perrysburg Protocol. He said that it was because you affected us, somehow."

The look he gave me ran right through me.

"It doesn't even work that way," he said softly, handing me a mirror from my desk.

I stared down, and mismatched eyes stared back. It took a moment for me to realize where the other eye came from.

"It may be uncomfortable now, but when you wake again, you'll forget where it came from."

I stared at him, confused. "What do you mean?"

"Everywhere I go, they hurt the ones who pass me by. The people at Perrysburg didn't deserve their fate. Given a chance, I would restore the lives of every single man, woman, and child there." He raised a hand towards my scar. When I jerked in response, he pulled away. "But I can't even undo this."

"I can't have you following me," he said, holding up the crumpled photo I took of him, before carefully folding it away. "But this, of you, I will keep."

His gaze was unreadable then. "Sleep," he whispered, and I felt his hand brush against my cheek, before the silence took me in.

&&&&&&&&

I woke to the sound of my mother banging against my door.

"What?" I asked, jolting out of bed to unlock it.

"I knew it," she declared. "I thought I told you never to visit the farmhouse by the lake."

"What are you talking about?" I asked, and she shook an envelope in my face.

I recognized the logo of the local photo studio that developed my film for me.

Grabbing the envelope, I emptied its contents onto the table.

There were photos of the farmhouse in all its decrepitude. Some were in black and white; most of them were beautiful.

I didn't remember taking a single one.

#fiction #fantasy #speculative fiction #short story #writing prompt #writing #reddit #writer #story #magic #supernatural #sleeper #worm #wormfanfic #fanfiction

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