The Record Store

"When can I start?"
"You can start straight away. You seem the most suitable for the job."
Conrad punched the air triumphantly as the manager turned away. Yes! Finally someone hired him.
"Where do I get my uniform?"
The manager glanced uncomfortably towards the dark corner in the back of the store.
"Through there," he said. "The back room."
Conrad waited a moment for the manager to take him but he was busy scribbling on a clipboard.
"O-kay. I'll just go..."
Conrad strode to the door with a renewed confidence.

Records. Who really buys records?

STORE ROOM

It was handwritten on a piece of paper stuck to the door that hadn't been cleaned in a long time. A heavy, iron door, rusted, it looked more like the entrance to a bomb shelter than the store room of a music store. Conrad swung the door open with youthful exuberance. He scrambled for the light switch and found a hanging cord which he tugged to light a dim hanging light with no light shade. Dark, green-blue damp festered in every corner of the room.

God what a dump!

Trotting down the steps in his brand new, old school, b-boy trainers he spied the folded t-shirts with THE RECORD STORE logo on and searched for a decent fit.


THE RECORD STORE

Real original name!

Conrad whistled as he changed out of his smart-white shirt into his brand new uniform.

Good thing I wore my jeans.

Crsssssss.......

Conrad looked around quickly.

What the hell was that?

Crsssshhhh....

Is that a rat?

Conrad suddenly became uneasy, his heart beginning to beat louder. It was so quiet in the room his ears buzzed from the silence. There was only him, a few boxes and a vintage, unused speaker in the store room. Most of the records were stored in the middle room where the interview had been held.

Crssssshhhhhhhhh.......

He looked sharply at the vintage speaker, brown and moulding, it just couldn't be working. But a slow tone was trying to play; crackling like a broken radio, a slight melody could be heard. Hollow and simple, the melody made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

Crssss..... crssss... crsss...

Conrad rubbed the back of his shaved head nervously, his fingers dipping where he had a pattern shaved. The pattern was a symbol of his favourite band. He had always wanted to work in a music store. He had thought it would be one that sold CD's.

Hurriedly Conrad half-backed, half walked out of the room shutting the door behind him and went out into the main store. His new boss stood waiting at the checkout, ready to show him how to use the outdated equipment.

"So that's it. Nothing to it. Any questions?"
His elderly manager seemed to think that the store was a professional place of work. It was nothing more than a dead-end shop in the deadest part of the town. What was the point of professionalism when they would barely get two customers a day?

But it's a job, its money. Pay attention!

"No, no questions."

There was an uncomfortable silence, his manager seemed ill equipped to deal with his new employee. Conrad disliked the break in conversation but a least music he recognised played comfortably into the store.

Say something, anything!

"How did you get that old speaker to work in the back there? It must be pretty ancient."
The manager stopped still and stared at him his beady eyes seeming completely black. He was nervous.
"What?" Conrad asked. What did I say?
"Nothing. The speaker is very old." He paused and then clapped his hands together. "Well I'll leave you to it. I'll be in the back if you need me and someone should be here to help you out soon. If you get stuck just ask."

Ask what? This place is dead!

Conrad watched as his manager hurried into the middle room, probably to write some more on his clipboard.
"Freak," he muttered.
For the next hour Conrad did nothing but sit bored at the counter.

I'll have to bring a magazine next time.

Crrrsss....

Conrad jumped. It seemed to come from behind him. He looked into the back room but the manager didn't seem to be there.
"Mr Stevens!"
Not quite shouting but now beginning to feel shaken Conrad started to walk slowly into the middle room. He couldn't see the manager but he could just see a glimpse of the metal bomb-shelter like store room door glaring back at him.

"I'm here. Don't panic! I'm here!"
The voice was young. Conrad turned and saw a tall boy wearing a backwards baseball cap and a tracksuit walking behind the counter. He already wore his The Record Store t-shirt underneath. When he saw Conrad he turned around.
"Oh Hi. You must be the new, new boy. I'm Jake."
"I'm Conrad. I just started today."
Conrad shook hands with the boy and then wiped his hands surprised at how clammy they were.

New, new boy?

"Sorry. I woke up late. I had to run here and now I'm all sweaty."
"Don't worry about it."
"So what do you think so far?" he asked leaning backwards on the counter.
"Er... It seems okay."
The boy laughed, stretching out casually.
"It's a dump isn't it? But Hell, its money... and it's not all bad working in a record store.
“Especially with the lack of customers."
Conrad relaxed and slouched back into the doorway.
"Yeah, but what's with the creepy manager and the creepy back room?"
"Oh this place is haunted. Didn't you know?"
Jake's eyes twinkled blue-gray. He grinned deviously and Conrad knew straight away that he was messing with him.
"Yeah right," he scoffed. "But seriously, what's with the manager? He left me here on my own on my first day."
Jake's grin faded. He swung his arms about.
"Mr Stevens is alright. He's just a little nervous at times. He always leaves the shop to the employees, prefers to do his paperwork at home."
"Cool. More time to mess about on the job."
Jake grinned again. "Well let's get down to work. You grab those boxes there and sort them out and the take some of the other boxes in the other room down to the store room. We're moving them all down there today."
Conrad nodded and started sorting through the first box humming to the music as he worked.

I could really get to like this job if I can manage not to get fired again for slacking.

Jake meanwhile sorted through the other boxes.

Crsss....

"What was that?"
"What?" Jake asked looking up from the box he was sorting.
"That noise?"
"I didn't hear anything."
Conrad shook his head still feeling uneasy.

CRSSSSS...

"That! You must have heard it."
Conrad was shouting now, angry at Jake for pretending.

He knows what it really is. It's the heating or the air conditioning or something stupid like that but he's not telling me.

Jake laughed.
"I told you. It's haunted!"
"I don't believe in that bullshit."
"Okay. Start stacking those boxes then in the store room. We need to get it done by 3pm."
Conrad shook his head, still irritated by his new co-worker and moved into the middle room.
"Dickhead," he mumbled as he picked up the first box.
Struggling he opened the store room door and placed the first box down in the doorway, holding the door open and moved to pick up the second box. He carried it down into the store room and placed the box down onto the stone floor.

Crrrrrrsssss.....

Conrad tried to ignore the sound as he paced up the steps to get the next box.

Crrrrssssshhhhhhhhhh...........

He walked faster still as he placed the next box. By the time he came to place the last one he was running in and out of the store room.

Ooooooooo aaaaaaaaaa laaaaaa ooooooo......

Conrad stopped, his back facing the room. The melody was suddenly clear.
"That store room used to be some secret room years ago in a real old building," Jake was shouting from the front of the store. "All of the streets around here were built over the grounds of what used to be some big mental institute, decades back. They used to leave people here to rot. That room was for the solitary confinement, it was for the people they drugged up and beat and left there to die because they thought that madness meant evil."
"Hey shut up!"
Conrad shouted back, vehemently.

He's just trying to scare me.
It's working.

Oooooo aaaa laaa ooooo.....

"One mental patient, they shut up in here, she been locked away for murdering people. They say she strangled them, a complete nutcase. They say she used to sit here singing to herself the same tune over and over again: singing the same song until she died."

Ooooo aaaa laaaa oooo......

Conrad wanted to run, he wanted to shout and scream and cry. That damn music. Why couldn't it stop? It just kept playing over and over again.
"They say that she still haunts the room. They say she even still kills, stuck there forever."
"Jake, shut the fuck up!"
Conrad could shout now but he was still frozen.

Pull yourself together. Move. Move.

He shook himself again, feeling the movement returning to his limbs and moved for the door.

SLAM!

The box! It hadn't been in the door. But no one else had been there to move it The light switched out and Conrad was trapped, alone and afraid, his heart pounding insanely fast as he scrambled for the door handle. He pushed against the door but it didn't move. He couldn't see anything. The darkness enveloped him, trapping him. Time ceased to exist.

Was something blocking the door?
"That isn't funny! Let me out!" He rapped on the door frantically.
Something touched his shoulder and he jumped. Two hands dragged him back by the shoulders and pulled him down onto the stone floor. It was freezing. Why was it so cold so suddenly? He shivered and struggled, fighting for his life.

Letmeout! Letmeout! Letmeout! Letmeout!
I'm going to die.

He couldn't breathe. Hands were on his throat. Hair brushed his chest. He couldn't see anything. He couldn't hear anything. The music had stopped. He struggled, gasping. He was dying. His life was being choked out of him.
"LET ME OUT!!!!!!" He screamed.
He felt dizzy, sick. He fought for once last shout. "JAAAAAAAAAAKEEEEEE...."

If only someone could hear him. And then suddenly he was released.

Silence...
Conrad stood up trembling. He could barely breathe with terror.

What is this? What's happening? Why has it stopped?

Staggering he rushed for the door and threw his shoulder at it. It opened quicker than he anticipated and he fell foolishly onto the tiled floor. The boxes he had taken down into the store room sat at his feet, taunting him.

I moved them. I did. How???

“Jake?" he gasped.
He struggled to his feet and pushed himself into to front of the store using the wall as a guide. Out of breath and dizzy he tried to look around but he could not see anyone. All he saw was the record box, half-sorted by Jake.

The side door in the middle room slammed shut and Conrad turned around, terrified.
"Conrad? Are you okay?"
Mr Stevens had returned carrying a shopping bag. He moved towards Conrad who leaned against the record shelves, one hand on his tender throat.
"Where, where you???"
Conrad glared at him still trying to catch his breath. His throat was bruised. It still hurt. He touched it testing himself.
Mr Stevens dug into the bag and brought out a jar of coffee.
"I went home to get some stuff for you to have on your break. We ran out. What happened?"
"Where did Jake go?"
The old man turned pale. "Jake?"
Conrad shouted at him, his voice faltering and weak. "Yeah, Jake! The guy you left me with who was a total dickhead and locked me in that stupid store room. I must've been hallucinating from that stupid story he told me."
Mr Stevens shook his head.
"Jake?"
"Yes Jake? Baseball cap, tall, cocky attitude. I already said! Where is he? I'm going to kill him!"
The manager wouldn't meet his eyes, weakly he shook his pale head. His eyes were a watery red, ringed with dark circles and heavy bags. He seemed grief-stricken
"The only Jake we had here was a few years back and he's dead."
Conrad stared at him in disbelief.
"But how? He can't be! I talked to him. I sorted records with him for two hours! But you told me that someone else would be coming in."
"No I meant my other employee Kathy was supposed to show. She rang in sick half and hour ago. I got her message on my answer machine at home."
Conrad backed away.
"This is some sort of sick joke. It has to be."
"It's true," he continued sadly. "There is no Jake. He was found dead in the store room years ago, white as a sheet. He must have been ill, must have had some sort of attack or something."
"Attack?" Conrad laughed incredulously.
"Attack?
He looked around nervously, the enormity of it sinking in. He stared helplessly into space and then shook himself again.

"Fuck this!" he shouted I'm out of here. Keep your sodding t-shirt."
Conrad tore the record shop uniform over his head and threw it at the manager. He ran out of the door almost headlong into the street leaving Mr Stevens staring at him in despair.
"I didn't like him anyway," Jake whispered besides him. You need to stop hiring these people."
"Go away. You're not here."
"But I am. And I'll stay here making sure that no one ever takes my place. You can't get another employee like me."
"No," Mr Stevens mumbled "That's true.
"And you know Kathy won't be returning to work anyway."
"No."
"It's just you and me now. Oh and our friend in the store room."
Mr Stevens stood alone in the empty record store amongst the piles of old records, trapped, as Conrad sped home free running as fast as he could.