The Chronicles of the Dead

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic

The Romero Files

Chapter 1 (v.1) - The Chronicles of the Dead

Submitted: December 21, 2011

Reads: 178

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Submitted: December 21, 2011






Tom Beckler was one pissed-off guy.....Tom,a ametur stargazer,was the night atendant at the new city morgue,work was not the problem.. rain was Toms agravation. .....unending ,pouring rain...

Standing at the main entrance door to the morgue,he watched the rain pour down.

"Shit!" he muttered to himself, "I won't see fuckin shit with this goddamn rain!!!" Turning he walked towards the vacant security booth,still muttering curses to himself. Entering the booth ,he leaned over flipped on the security moniters...armed the security system.....and flopped into the nearest chair.....and waited for the bank of moniters to warm up.

"A MORGUE.....I work in a fucking morgue...a dead end job..babysitting a bunch of fuckin dead stiffs....SHIT !!!"

He was thankfull that he was now working at the new morgue.

When he first started working for the county,they placed him at the old morgue......he continusly got sick..from the reaction of the years of acumulation of formaldehyde and many other noxios chemicals...he was ready to quit when his supervisor transfered him to the new morgue. He no longer got sick from the smells..but he still got the creeps having to work the graveyard shift..alone in the house of dead.

"Only Stephen King could enjoy this fucking place." he muttered. "Damn place still gives me the creeps..just lucky it does'nt smell like dead meat anymore...I could handle this place a lot better if I could just crank up the heat a little.....fuckin city and their fuckin economy drives to save money." He groused.Looking over at the security moniters,he saw they had not come on yet.

"Now what the fuck....goddamn rain must have fucked with the fuckin cables....FUCK,FUCK,FUCK... shit....means i gotta check the cold rooms myself.......shit this just ain't my night!" he complained ..........He slapped the switch controlling the moniters and reached under the desk to remove a small t.v. the day gaurd kept there,plugging it in and turning it on to warm up,he decided to take a quick walk thru the cold rooms and do the first of several security checks required by the city if the moniters went down.Standing he left the booth and walked over to the elevator that would take him down one level to the prep and storage rooms.

"Maybe I'll at least see some of the meteor shower on the boob tube." He muttered as he entered the elavator,punching the down button he leaned against the elevator wall and watched the doors silently,slowly close....feeling the slight downward motion of the elavator,he shuddered and complained "I dont care what anyone says....I can feel it get colder as I go down......Damn I gotta start bringin a jacket to work...."

The elavator reached the lower level and silently opened..Tom stepped thru and crossed the hall to the first storage room.pushing thru the double swinging doors,he entered the long cold storage room.Glancing around,he thought how glad he was that he didnt have to spend much time in these rooms full of the dead,waiting for someone to claim them for burial.

The storage room,one of several was long and narrow..along each wall were dull silver doors,stacked three high and ran the length of the room.behind each door was a corpse...some dead by natural causes...some not. Tom sometimes had nightmares about him walking thru the room and suddenly hearing one of the doors chunking his dreams he could never make himself turn and face whatever caused the door to open.........Walking the length of the room he was spooked by the hollow sounds of his footsteps,and started talking out loud to himself,just to hear a voice even if it was his own..."Well ladies and gentlemens...your stay here will just be a short one,so ya'll just lay back...and stay cool ,ya hear...."

Snickering at his little joke about staying cool he aproached the swinging doors at the far end of the room,he stopped and turned to count yellow tags hanging from the handles of the ocupied units.counting just three tags in this room he cracked "Not many tenants tonight" snickering again he pushed thru the doors into the next room....jokes and calling the dead tenants was his way of coping with being surounded by death eight hours a night........little did he know how close and personal he would get with death before the night was over.........................


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