Short Story: Please. Do Sit.
Silence.
There are no sounds to be heard as I step out of the elevator. I look to my
left and then to my right but the hallway remains empty. Not many people are up
here and very few ever get to see or experience the perspective of being in the
top floor. Today I was given this chance, and to get another I had to prove
myself.I turned
left, as I was directed to by the general assistant downstairs and walked down
the hallway until I reached the corner. Doors flanked either side of me, each
with its own tag and engraving, signifying whose space it was. I read each one
through my head "Mr. Wolf, Mr. Parson, Mr. Crab, Mr. Huntsman…" So on
the names went.
When I finally reached the assistants office, I had passed several male office rooms but no female executives were to be seen. The only female on this level was the assistant who greeted me with a dull expression. "You must be the 8:00 pm interview" she mumbled, looking down at her collection of papers, books and journals. She didn’t look back up at me but I nodded my head anyways. I looked to her shiny name tag whilst she fumbled around her desk. Executive Assistant, Ms. Fly it read. After looking around her table and unsuccessfully not finding what she was looking for, she looks back up to me and frowns. "Go on, he's waiting for you" She says abruptly, annoyance filling her voice. I proceed to walk to the doors behind her and I reach out for the chrome handle, pulling downwards and pushing in.
As I step into the room, a cold breeze meets me - the stale smell causing me to cringe. The room is dark, with little to no lighting but it was at least large - with a curved wall across from me, fitted with windows, windows and more windows. The view from up here was fantastical. The lights from the city below glowed like ember and they prevented the darkness from consuming them all. Looking out into the horizon, I could see the light slowing dispersing as it reached higher and higher into the sky. It was raining tonight; the clouds were illuminated in the sky, both from above and down below. A full moon hid itself behind the droplets but still shone through the sky and left shadows through the room. I walked tentatively towards one such shadow that sat behind a chipped or 'vintage' wooden desk, with the back of his leather seat facing me.
"Come. Forward" His deep, hollow voice, booms through the room. Once the echo dissipates, his arm stretches out from behind the safety of the leather seat, his hand open wide, waiting. I walk towards him, paper in my hand, my heart palpitating. I stop right before I touch his desk, bend over and carefully place the parchment into his waiting palm. His arm was long but slender and was framed by the black suit that he was wearing. His fingers were long too, at the end of each, long sharp nails, that were well groomed but appeared longer than a normal human would leave them uncut for, were present. As I step back up, my tie brushes against a rope-like ornament that sat on his desk and the man flinched. Jerking backwards, I arrange myself and remain silent. I watch as his fingers, slowly clasp around resume and pull it behind the chair away from my sight.
The man stays quiet while he presumably reads my resume. I look back to the table and to the rope-like ornament that my tie brushed across. It was a tall figure that was wrapped in strands of rope spinning around and around until it reached the top – it appeared almost phallic. The ornament stood next to his name card on his desk, which inscribed by metal reads “Mr Anthony F. Webb”.
As if my mind called out to him, he spins around in his chair and looks at me, confusion filling his face. I gulp down the remaining saliva in my mouth and hope he is not disappointed with my work.
He indicates to me with his long, slender arms to come forth. “Please. Do sit” He commands. CLAP! The roaring thunder in the background jolts me and I quickly sit down, as if the thunder was a shock collar. He places both his hands together and forms a ball with his fingers, his long sharp nails resting firmly on the back of each hand.“We have had quite the need for new blood here on the executive level. All the other executives are becoming…hungry…for new ideas and innovations of course.” His deep voice is commanding yet soothing, placing me in a trance-like mesmerisation. “The board has reviewed your work in this company and have agreed unanimously to accept you into our creative talent division. I have one question before we move on to complete the process. Do you know what the company’s values are?”He pauses and looks at me, with a death-like expression. His absent, grey eyes follow my every move. I sit there thinking of an excellent response to this question. My mind blanks out and I sit there anxiously waiting for one word, any word to come out of my mouth. I open it, to speak, but only my breath is heard. Mr F. Webb looks at me, and sighs.
He begins again “Our company values are simple junior; they require us to be have the highest discretions as we funnel money for the rich. It requires that we remain silent about everything we see and anything we hear, it requires complete loyalty and devotion. You sell your soul for the job I guess” He pauses and looks at me up and down. “Do you accept these terms?” He says pushing a sheet towards me to sign. I barely scan the sheet before I reach for my pen to sign at the bold line at the bottom.Flashes of lighting light up the dark room and provide just enough light to cause shadows to dance around my hand and the page. As I finish my signature off with the final flick of my wrist, I push the sheet back towards him.
He accepts it with a growing grin and licks his lips. He stands up and I stretch out my hand for a handshake in sake of tradition.He moves quickly and swiftly his arm reaching out to mine in one second, the next he is crouched over me with my body on the ground, writhing to be released. He covers my mouth with one hand, the other hand clutches around my throat. “Remember our company values that you signed your soul off to: You say nothing, you heard nothing”. I moan in hopes it will attract attention but alas, no one is on this floor. His nails dig deep into my neck and I feel blood leaving my body. As I begin to slowly weaken he removes his hand from my mouth and unlatches his nails from neck. I lift my head up, exhausted and bleeding and watch as he penetrates his claws deep into my chest – my blood splattering over my glasses and my face. I drop my head in exhaustion and stare up at the ceiling with the dim lights. A flash of lightning fills the room again and Mr F. Webb stands over me, gleaming. He walks back to his own chair, announcing to himself “Please. Do sit”.
When I finally reached the assistants office, I had passed several male office rooms but no female executives were to be seen. The only female on this level was the assistant who greeted me with a dull expression. "You must be the 8:00 pm interview" she mumbled, looking down at her collection of papers, books and journals. She didn’t look back up at me but I nodded my head anyways. I looked to her shiny name tag whilst she fumbled around her desk. Executive Assistant, Ms. Fly it read. After looking around her table and unsuccessfully not finding what she was looking for, she looks back up to me and frowns. "Go on, he's waiting for you" She says abruptly, annoyance filling her voice. I proceed to walk to the doors behind her and I reach out for the chrome handle, pulling downwards and pushing in.
As I step into the room, a cold breeze meets me - the stale smell causing me to cringe. The room is dark, with little to no lighting but it was at least large - with a curved wall across from me, fitted with windows, windows and more windows. The view from up here was fantastical. The lights from the city below glowed like ember and they prevented the darkness from consuming them all. Looking out into the horizon, I could see the light slowing dispersing as it reached higher and higher into the sky. It was raining tonight; the clouds were illuminated in the sky, both from above and down below. A full moon hid itself behind the droplets but still shone through the sky and left shadows through the room. I walked tentatively towards one such shadow that sat behind a chipped or 'vintage' wooden desk, with the back of his leather seat facing me.
"Come. Forward" His deep, hollow voice, booms through the room. Once the echo dissipates, his arm stretches out from behind the safety of the leather seat, his hand open wide, waiting. I walk towards him, paper in my hand, my heart palpitating. I stop right before I touch his desk, bend over and carefully place the parchment into his waiting palm. His arm was long but slender and was framed by the black suit that he was wearing. His fingers were long too, at the end of each, long sharp nails, that were well groomed but appeared longer than a normal human would leave them uncut for, were present. As I step back up, my tie brushes against a rope-like ornament that sat on his desk and the man flinched. Jerking backwards, I arrange myself and remain silent. I watch as his fingers, slowly clasp around resume and pull it behind the chair away from my sight.
The man stays quiet while he presumably reads my resume. I look back to the table and to the rope-like ornament that my tie brushed across. It was a tall figure that was wrapped in strands of rope spinning around and around until it reached the top – it appeared almost phallic. The ornament stood next to his name card on his desk, which inscribed by metal reads “Mr Anthony F. Webb”.
As if my mind called out to him, he spins around in his chair and looks at me, confusion filling his face. I gulp down the remaining saliva in my mouth and hope he is not disappointed with my work.
He indicates to me with his long, slender arms to come forth. “Please. Do sit” He commands. CLAP! The roaring thunder in the background jolts me and I quickly sit down, as if the thunder was a shock collar. He places both his hands together and forms a ball with his fingers, his long sharp nails resting firmly on the back of each hand.“We have had quite the need for new blood here on the executive level. All the other executives are becoming…hungry…for new ideas and innovations of course.” His deep voice is commanding yet soothing, placing me in a trance-like mesmerisation. “The board has reviewed your work in this company and have agreed unanimously to accept you into our creative talent division. I have one question before we move on to complete the process. Do you know what the company’s values are?”He pauses and looks at me, with a death-like expression. His absent, grey eyes follow my every move. I sit there thinking of an excellent response to this question. My mind blanks out and I sit there anxiously waiting for one word, any word to come out of my mouth. I open it, to speak, but only my breath is heard. Mr F. Webb looks at me, and sighs.
He begins again “Our company values are simple junior; they require us to be have the highest discretions as we funnel money for the rich. It requires that we remain silent about everything we see and anything we hear, it requires complete loyalty and devotion. You sell your soul for the job I guess” He pauses and looks at me up and down. “Do you accept these terms?” He says pushing a sheet towards me to sign. I barely scan the sheet before I reach for my pen to sign at the bold line at the bottom.Flashes of lighting light up the dark room and provide just enough light to cause shadows to dance around my hand and the page. As I finish my signature off with the final flick of my wrist, I push the sheet back towards him.
He accepts it with a growing grin and licks his lips. He stands up and I stretch out my hand for a handshake in sake of tradition.He moves quickly and swiftly his arm reaching out to mine in one second, the next he is crouched over me with my body on the ground, writhing to be released. He covers my mouth with one hand, the other hand clutches around my throat. “Remember our company values that you signed your soul off to: You say nothing, you heard nothing”. I moan in hopes it will attract attention but alas, no one is on this floor. His nails dig deep into my neck and I feel blood leaving my body. As I begin to slowly weaken he removes his hand from my mouth and unlatches his nails from neck. I lift my head up, exhausted and bleeding and watch as he penetrates his claws deep into my chest – my blood splattering over my glasses and my face. I drop my head in exhaustion and stare up at the ceiling with the dim lights. A flash of lightning fills the room again and Mr F. Webb stands over me, gleaming. He walks back to his own chair, announcing to himself “Please. Do sit”.
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