Free 13 Tales To Give You Night Terrors by Elliot Arthur Cross

see
forms, just barely.
    Groups of men cling to the
walls tightly, holding hands and shaking. Every so often the thing
in the shadows lets out a long mournful sigh, and the men snort in
fear, shuddering against the walls. There is a flump of weight hitting the floor,
the clambering of the thing, and the soft slapping of wet bodies.
It begins to feast on the unlucky soul who fainted in the
heat.
    The Assistant races down
one of the well-lit pathways, and hanging a sharp right into the
equipment department, she slams a key code into the door and slides
through to the relative safety of the Menswear staff area. It is
well lit back here and there are few shadows to hide in. So she
rests, slipping onto the musty sofa, whilst forgetting about everything .
     
    ● ● ●
     
    HERE and there the other staff members perch, no two standing too
close together or too far apart. The air is thick with accusation
and morbid curiosity. The overall effect is somewhat jarring to the
Assistant who awakens, with severely mixed feelings, to a room full
of bloodied silent people staring at her.
    She makes her way to the table and
takes a seat, one of the new girls picks up her scarlet coat and
swings it on, wandering to the door.
    “ You’re seriously going out
in that?”
    The girl turns, confused and distant,
a constant question on her brow. The Assistant takes out a rusted
blade and slides it across the table—you might as well stick that
in your heart right now. The girl picks up the knife in a daze,
turns, and leaves for the ladies toilet. The sobs stop and start,
then dissipates to nothing. The door remains locked.
    As she reaches over the table for a
glass of water, the room shudders violently and the pitcher quivers
over the edge of the surface to smash loudly on the laminate floor.
Everyone gasps and prepares to flee, but the action fades as
quickly as it started.
    “ It’s the rain,” someone
says, “the rain, it’s falling too hard. It’ll wake the Old
Ones.”
    Everyone frowns and turns away, waving
arms and making sharp sounds of dismissal.
    “ You’ll see,” the Assistant
says.
    Over by the phone, a young man has the
handset to his mouth and is whispering something into the receiver.
The Assistant wanders over to whisper in his ear, “Where can I get
the Manager’s office key?” The man seems to start awake then turns
to her.
    “ The Manager should have
them.”
    “ Last I heard she was in
the basement.”
    “ Basement’s flooded, so…I
hope not.”
    “ Ok, so I’ll make my way
up—”
    “ Have you
noticed—”
    “ You guys stay here, enjoy
your break.”
    “ You probably
shouldn’t—”
    “ See you.”
    He turns back to the receiver and
carries on whispering. She steps out onto the floor and stops to
listen. Over the Tannoy, comes a strained whisper, “Prowl…prowl…I
wanted help on the desk but no one came there was a body but it
disappeared after a while in the basement then the blood but it
wasn’t blood it was pus from the boiler it’s all gone off…” It goes
on and on. The Assistant makes it back to the lift just as the
candles puff out in her wake and something slides towards her in
the dark. She drags the black sack in and the door slams shut.
Something reeking of flowery perfume slams into the
door.
    The lift stops on Three but the doors
won’t slide open so she presses the button for Four and the problem
repeats. This time the inadequacy of the institute sets a fuse in
her belly, and she screams every terrible word she knows. She
considers calling someone but the janitors are zombies so the
engineers have probably met similar fate.
    She fits her fingers into the groove
between the doors carefully, nails first, and wrenches with all her
strength. Nothing. Not even a slight give. She pulls her lanyard
from her neck and bashes the plastic fob into place, pushing the
door millimetres apart. Her fingertips fit in and she splits a nail
in her haste, the pain makes her hands tremble and,