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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2175234
Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Thriller/Suspense · #2175234
Working in an old people home wasn't supposed to be this terrifying.
"I thought that they would never leave." Myra voiced her opinion in front of the crowd of 90 somethings. I was sat in the far corner of the room, my eyes finding it hard to keep themselves open. I was tired. Distressed. Bewildered, you could say at the most.

Working in an old people home had its ups and downs. Right now, it was most definitely a down. I couldn't fathom how long it had been since the last time they had visited. Who were they? People? Aliens? Personalities ascended from hell?

I'll settle with the latter.

Something hit my thigh and I looked up from my inner thoughts to find Myra standing there glaring down at me, her more brunette colored hair tied up into a pristine bun to compliment her black pencil skirt and pearly white blouse.

"What is the matter with you? Aren't you supposed to be getting on with what I told you to get on with?"

She quizzically looked at me. I was trapped. She had told me earlier to do something and right now my brain was spiraling down a black hole. I just could not for the life of me remember what she said.

"Damn it. " I muttered to myself.

"Did I hear you swear or was that my imagination?"

Oh marbles. This wasn't the time for more reprimands when there was already a reprimanding on my hand at the minute.

"No." I shook my head and smoothly tried to go back to the first question she had asked

"Also, I remember you told me to go to the basement to go get the pillow covers!" My quick-witted brain had finally decided to aid me in my discomfort.

I ran as fast as I could away from the grilling stare of my boss and made my way to the basement.
It was cold as soon as I left the comfort of the main living base and entered into the passage. I was only wearing a thin tank top as I had taken my checked shirt off due to it being insanely warm in the living room. And the panic of bolting away from Myra had taken over so I wasn’t even thinking of how cold it would be in the rest of the house. The basement door was positioned underneath the banister of our gloss painted stairs. I made my way to it and positioned my hand over the golden knob. I twisted it and pulled the door open to be faced with absolute pitch black darkness.

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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2175234