Odd Jobs

(Short-short Story | Science Fiction, Horror)

They know what you’ve done. And they’re sending someone…

THE ELEVATOR CLIMBED silently, prowling from floor to floor like a beggar. On the eleventh floor the cabin stood empty. Same on the twelfth. Typical of tall buildings the thirteenth floor was a phantom. When the doors crawled open on the fourteenth floor a man stepped out.

A slight wobble marred his progress and he steadied himself with a hand against the wall. He took a deep breath. It smelled of pine and disinfectant like the tile floors had just been mopped. He looked down the hall. The dim lighting created ghostly swirling shadows. His vision hadn’t quite adjusted and the world rippled like a reflection on lake water. He knew it would pass soon enough.

Being inside skin again felt so strange…

He moved cautiously down the hall. His flesh seemed tight, constricting, like fifty pounds of needles stuffed in a twenty-five pound bag. The doors along the hall had numbers on them. A hotel then? No, by the look of it an office building. After hours most likely, with the low lighting and lack of foot-traffic. Things started coming back to him. His name: Roy. His job…

He dug through his coat pockets, found a crumpled scrap of paper. In handwriting he didn’t recognize: 1420C Melissa Carter.


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