Strange Day

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic

It started like any other day, until it wasn't...And the world went to hell quickly.

The day was like any other, my mom arrived a little late to babysit my son. And I was getting ready for work. The weatherman predicated 20 percent chance of rain in the forecast. And that was good since Texas was going through a bad drought. Rain in these parts was greatly appreciated and very much needed. The grass in the backyard hadn’t seen rain in seemed for ages, it had already yellowed and died from the lack of moisture. The news anchor went on to mention Mexico’s continued drug war, and the dismembered to drug lord found dead, or body parts missing.

Annoyed by the bad news, I turned off the TV and kissed my son, then waved goodbye to my mom, as I headed off to work.

The morning commute to work was smooth, minus your typical fender bender. Driving into the garage I notice there was an accident off the side street. A man was on the ground, whether he was alive or dead I couldn’t’ tell. But a small crowd of curious spectators had gathered around him. As I entered the garage ramp a police car pulled to the side, and the officer got out. I thought nothing of it and continued up the garage ramp wondering whether I would hear about it later on the news.

After parking I headed to the garage elevator and was surprised when it came up immediately. Was this going to be a good day? I wondered? Normally the elevator was incredibly busy and never as fast. But today it seemed quick and empty.

I stepped inside and pushed for floor 3. The doors seemed to pause, perhaps I had underestimated my good fortunate too. I push for the button again, when I noticed a figure of a man coming down the dark garage. Strange that I hadn’t noticed him there before. Although he was quite far from where I stood. I could make out the dark suit and red tie he wore, but it was covered in dark stain I couldn’t make out.

He looked disoriented stumbling clumsily forward. He seemed not to know where he was, looking emotionlessly around him. Almost blank and soulless.

And then as if by some strange magic he caught sight of me standing inside the elevator. I pushed for the elevator button again. Perhaps because of the way he looked or appeared, something didn’t seem right with him. My attempts at the elevator button finally succeeded. The elevator doors began to close, afar I could see the man burying forward. And it was the way he moved that assured me something indeed was wrong with him. One of his feet was obviously broken the foot bend at the ankle awkwardly. Yet he moved quickly dragging it with him and showing no signs of pain.

I pushed for the button again, cursing the doors to close. When they finally did, I caught a glimpse of the man one last time. But he was no longer looking in my direction, coming out of a nearby car, a woman was getting out and making her way to the elevator. I only saw her and him briefly as the doors closed.

I felt a sense of relieved and shame. What if the man needed help I thought suddenly? What if he was injured? Well, the woman could help him. I ‘m sure she would. If not I would tell the guard at the reception desk. I convinced myself. He’d call someone.

But when I got to the desk, it was empty. I figure the guard was doing his runs. I would call him once I got to my desk, I decided, as I took the building elevator to the 23rd floor.

The office seemed quite empty but it usually was very early in the morning.

I got some coffee and took a seat at my desk, when my cell phone rang. I was my mother, she sounded shaken. It had only been a few moments since I had left the house to come into work. I wonder if there was something wrong with my son? For the pass two months she had taken care of him while I returned to work.

I tried to calm her as she said in Spanish, “Hay alguien en la Puerta.” Someone was at the door she claimed. I wondered why this was a matter of urgency and why it had her so terrorized.

Since I had often told her that if someone were to come knocking, she shouldn’t be worried about opening the door or answering it. To just let them knock, so I didn’t understand why this time it required a call and why she sounded so scare. But something in her voice alarmed me.

“Hay un hombre en la puerta y sigue tocando. No quiere irse.” There was a man at the door, she continued, and she claimed that he wouldn’t stop knocking.

“No abra la Puerta. Ignorarlo.” Ignore him, but don’t open the door I advise.

“Claudia, se ve un poco extraño.” My mom said. She claimed the man outside kept hitting his head against the door, then walked up and down the entrance swaying side to side. I told her to call the police, already. Nervously picturing the scene in my mind. She claimed she had but that no one was picking up the phone. In fact, that the phone sounded busy or disconnected. Immediately I picked up my bag and told her I was coming home.

I dialed the police as I raced into the elevator. On my way I pass the reception desk, and noticed it was still empty. Only now did I realize how quiet the building seemed.


Submitted: July 08, 2021

© Copyright 2021 C.S Luis. All rights reserved.

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