1000 Little Horrers Episode 1

Episode 1: Boredom and Betrayal1

The cubicle was a prison, and not the nice kind like the institutions reserved for tax evasion and unpaid parking tickets. It was constructed of thin fiber board, rusty nails, and a thick white paint that had a high chance of containing lead. It was also incredibly small; it was roughly 5 feet by 5 feet with barely enough room to hold the small, child size desk, the old fashioned swivel chair, and of course the occupant himself. Gene loosened his tie which was beginning to feel more like a noose than an article of clothing. The day had been long and was growing longer as the many factors of overtime fit into place. The boss had run through the hall sweating profusely and grasping at his chest. No doubt he was going for the nitrate pills that fought his heart condition. Jeremy Brocher, the head accountant, had been frantically punching figures into his computer during his lunch hour. Jeremy never worked through lunch unless the office was about to go to hell. And the coup de grace was the fact that on the hottest day of the week the air conditioner was conveniently shut off. They were bad omens, and generally conducive to a night of hard labor and carpel tunnel syndrome.2

Gene heaved a heavy sigh and spun back toward his blinking computer. The blank screen stared back at him, as if telling him that it knew that not one word of the monthly status report had been typed by his perfectly able hands. In fact he hadn’t done anything work related for the past three hours. His time had consisted of playing minesweeper religiously, and surfing the internet for Russian mail order brides (not that he had any intention of getting married; he just wanted to see how it worked.). The day wasn’t getting shorter, and every time he looked at the clock the end of the working week seemed further and further away. He just hoped the time would expire before they all found out they had to work late; then he could simply appear on Monday and feign ignorance on the matter completely. 3

“Hey Gene!” The head of Brad Ames popped up from the neighboring cubicle like a ground squirrel out of its hole. “You think were working late tonight slugger?” Gene scratched his head. “I don’t know seems, that way.” Brad raised his eyebrow in the suave manner in which he always did, usually before he spouted off a really cheesy idea. “How about we clock off early and hit the bar. I mean it’s seven o’clock; it’s prime happy hour time.” “How the hell are we going to pull that off?” Gene responded. Brad laughed a little. “Just make up a good excuse, your quick on your feet. The first rule is that it has to be convincing, the second is that it has to be horrible enough to dissuade any follow up questions.” Then Brad shot up a pair of thumbs to emphasize his point. Gene shook his head. “What! Are you crazy? How am I going to pull that off? It’s not going to work. We might as well settle in and prepare for the siege.” “Okay,” Brad said clearly feigning disappointment. “but from the way that the boss man is running to the bathroom every so often to take his heart pills I’m guessing that we won’t get out of here ‘till way past midnight.” Gene rubbed his neck in contemplation. 4

“Alright, I’m in.” “Well if you want to make your move now’s the time to do it. The boss man is walkin’ around again.” Gene swallowed hard and pushed his breath out to calm his nerves. He pushed himself up from his chair and in a few strides he was right next to the boss. Walter Thorndike Macanroe was a big man with a slight pot gut and a thick southern accent reminiscent of Colonel Sanders or some slight 1800’s nostalgia. When Gene approached he was adjusting his belt and pulling at his collar nervously. “Uh, excuse me sir.” Gene mumbled. The guise of fragility quickly lifted from Macanroe’s face and he immediately became tough and assertive. If there was one thing Walter couldn’t stand it was showing weakness in front of his employees (although he did it quite often without knowing it.). 5

“Speak up son! Grow some fuzz on your peaches and talk with your boss. Correction, talk to me as one friend to another. That’s just what we are just a bunch of friends working together as equals. Except that this particular friend in front of you can fire your ass faster than you can say tobacco spit! Just kidding! What’s on your mind?” Gene had forgotten how incredibly long winded Macanroe could get. “Well sir, my grandma….” “Stop right there son.” Macanroe interrupted. “Now I don’t care if your grandma is sick or anything of that nature; we’re probably going to have to work late tonight and I need you right here. Besides I’m going to order us some pizza; it’ll be fun!” Gene composed himself and thought for a second. “You see she’s been…. shot!” Macanroe almost keeled over where he stood. “Shot? Well what the hell are you doin’ here? Get your ass over to the hospital!” Gene grabbed his satchel from his cubicle and made a quick escape down the elevator. Brad grabbed his own bag and headed for the exit before Macanroe’s searching gaze stopped him dead in his tracks. “Were the hell do you think you’re goin’ Ames?” Brad being always quick on his feet responded in a likely fashion. “Well, I’m the one who… em shot her sir. And I must go promptly to turn myself in.” He flashed a smile and stood triumphant. Macanroe looked as if he was about to explode then his flush faded and a grin spread across his face. “Get the hell out of here Ames; you’re darn near useless anyway.” Brad tipped an invisible hat and ducked out. Macanroe shook his head and wiped the sweat off his brow. Then he commenced his frantic behavior as the clock continued to tick and the only other sound was the tapping of the computer keys.6

¥7

The bar was a welcome change of pace from the busy world of the office. The music was smooth and relaxing, the atmosphere was calm and euphoric, and Brad was making an ass out of himself with a couple of girls which always made Gene smile. The pop of a bottle cap brought him out of his trance as another beer was placed in front of him. “Hey I didn’t order this.” The bartender grinned. “It’s a gift from your friend over there.” Gene stared in the direction that the man was pointing. Sitting in a booth in the darkest corner of the bar sat the man in question. His eyes met Gene’s and he tipped his wide brimmed hat in an informal greeting. Gene nodded in kind and walked toward the mysterious stranger. As he got closer he felt a sudden chill come over his body that he could not comprehend. Perhaps it was the colorless eyes that he had seen in the man, or the fact that his attire was black and foreboding. The hat seemed to hide his facial features very well and the only discernable characteristic was his thin mouth that seemed plastered with a very fake grin. Gene slid into the seat opposite the stranger and tried not to seem too intrusive. “Thanks for the beer.” 8

“Thank you for the company.” The stranger replied. He then slid a small plate towards Gene. “Would you care for some baklava? My housekeeper sends me bundles of it, but I’m afraid I’m not much for sweets.” “No thanks.” Gene replied. “I would like to know your name though.” The stranger’s grin grew wider and he touched a gloved hand to the brim of his hat. “Names are so bothersome don’t you think? People spend all this time in wonderfully complicated relationships only to ruin them by requiring a name to define each other by. I absolutely despise names, but seeing as how I have a proposal to offer you I must tender mine. You may call me Alistair Reaver, or Dr. Reaver if you prefer.” Gene was beginning to feel more than a little uneasy, but some unexplainable force kept him glued to the table. “Don’t try to speak; this will go much smoother if we don’t have to waste our time with endless bantering back and forth.” Alistair continued. “I will as a courtesy to you however, try to answer every conceivable question you might have. First, why you can’t move. You can not move because I have a special ability that gives me temporary control over the minds of others. The second that our eyes met I was luring you into my web. Just call it instant hypnosis if you will. And your friend over there is hypnotized into talking to those two young women and forgetting about you.” Alistair chuckled a little as if admiring his own brilliance.9

“You see I need you to help me with a daunting task that seems to be giving me quite a headache of late. And note that refusal is not an option, but I will explain that part later. Have you ever heard of Donna Sophia castle? What am I saying, of course you haven’t. You see, it is located in a poison swamp in the south of France; a place that the locals think is cursed, so the estate has not been disturbed for over five hundred years. It was an architectural master piece made by the Italian architect Luchino Medici around the end of the 15th century. Luchino you see was very famous at that time and he was enlisted by a very influential marquis to design and build a castle that would rival the city of Atlantis. It took Luchino seventeen years to complete the castle and when he was finished it was indeed the greatest work of architecture the world had ever seen.” Alistair paused and cupped his wine glass in his left hand. He gave it a few swirls then drained the last of the crimson liquid. Gene still sat transfixed in fear.10

“Now this is were the story takes a turn for the worse. The marquis you see had no intention of ever paying for the work that he had commissioned Luchino to do; he also had no intention of letting Luchino live to build anything that could possibly dwarf his castle. So in the middle of the night he and all of his men raided the camp where Luchino, his workers, and their families were staying. They slaughtered them all in their sleep, sparing no one. The soldiers would tear babies from their cribs and cut them to pieces and rape and kill the women and small girls. The marquis in particular was especially brutal and it was he who dealt the coup de grace to Luchino. The only survivor of the massacre was Luchino’s daughter. When she returned to the camp and beheld the slaughter she tore her clothes and rolled in the rivers of blood. She wept for days on end until finally she used the last of her strength and took her own life and buried her fathers chisel into her gut. But before she died she used the black magic that was taught to her by a witch she had given refuge to, and used it to curse the marquis and his household for all eternity.”11

Alistair took a small square of the baklava and chewed it slowly. “This is divine you really must try some.” Gene shook his head and Alistair laughed. “Now where was I? Oh, yes now I remember. So according to the legend the marquis and all his servants became imprisoned in the house that the architect built. They found themselves unable to leave and unable to sleep. They could not eat though they starved inside, they could not drink though they craved water. Most importantly though, they could not die. Many of them began to take on bizarre shapes, and morph into strange creatures. They have remained thus for over five hundred years. The occasional tourist or lost traveler may stumble upon it and be foolish enough to enter in, but they never come out.” Alistair grinned his evil grin and popped the last of the baklava into his mouth. “As to my proposal I require a certain item that lies within that castle. You will accompany me and help me to locate the item. As to what, in fact we are retrieving I will tell you when the time comes. Now, on to why you will do this for me.” Reaching into a coat pocket Alistair with drew several photographs. “Your sister has had the unfortunate luck of wandering into that castle; by our estimates she has three days before they kill her, maybe less. If you want to save your sister you will help me to achieve my goal.” Gene tried to protest but found that he lacked the ability to speak. Alistair withdrew a card, scribbled a note on it and handed it to Gene. “Be at the airport at that hanger by 7:30 tomorrow mourning. I would advise you to be on time, because we are leaving with or without you. And if you’re not with us we will leave your sister in there. Oh my look at the time I’m afraid I have prior engagements to attend to. I do hope we can continue to have such talks in the future, I thoroughly enjoyed this one.” 12

Without another word Alistair stood up and in flash was out the door and out of sight. Gene felt as if he had just been let go by a vice grip and he inhaled heavily. Words could not describe the mix of anger and horror that he felt. Brad plopped down beside him in a childlike fashion. “Hey Gene I think those girls liked me. What’s the matter buddy? You look like you just saw a ghost.”13

End of episode 1:14

Next episode: Into the Mouth of the Dragon15