I have a special Halloween treat for readers of this newsletter.
Recently, I entered a story in the first ever Wicked Writing contest put together by
and on the official Macabre Monday newsletter. I deeply appreciate the time and energy they put into bringing the contest to life. My story ultimately earned second place, finishing behind Rare Dawn, a haunting tale you can read in the latest newsletter.And now for our featured presentation, I give you that second place story for the first time: The Job Interview
This had to be the wrong place.
Chris double checked the address he typed into the map app on his smartphone. He glanced back up at the number above the door.
616.
No, he had the right number. 616 Market Street. Still, his destination did not match his expectations based on what he read and saw online.
A nondescript brown brick building. Windows flanked both sides of a heavy white wooden door. Drawn blinds shut out sunlight and concealed whatever lay inside from prying eyes. No sign hung above the door.
Maybe interviewing to be a content writer for Wild Grape Marketing wasn't such a hot idea after all. If this building truly housed their home office, it sent the wrong message about the company's approach to marketing.
“What kind of fishy fly-by-night company is this?” Chris wondered aloud.
He stuffed his phone back inside his jacket and shifted a navy-blue folder to his other hand. The folder held an up-to-date resume. Chris spent an entire evening ironing out the details after reading various articles that offered resume-writing tips. He ran his hand through his light brown hair, stepped up to the door, and twisted the knob.
A hinge creaked as Chris pushed the door open. Darkness and emptiness swallowed everything in front of him. Outside sunlight flooded past his shoulders and soon revealed an empty waiting room. His eyes settled on a single couch covered in rough brown fabric. The couch faced a bland white round table decorated with three random magazines. Across from the office furniture stood a second door.
“Hello?”
Silence greeted his question. Chris stepped through the open doorway and surveyed the cramped room. Nothing beyond the minimal decor caught his eye. No signs of human activity.
“Hello?” he repeated. “Is anyone here?”
Chris approached the second door and knocked. An echo of his knuckles banging against wood bounced back to him. He scrunched up his eyes and nose and let loose a confused sigh.
“Is this a prank?” Chris glanced back at the open door behind him. “Am I being punked?”
Did someone post a fake job at Wild Grape Marketing on the job board? Wouldn't be unprecedented for some anonymous jerk to pull that trick. Too many trolls out there with too much time on their hands.
Chris tested the doorknob.
Unlocked.
He pushed the door open and poked his head through the doorway. It led into a darkened hall. Chris paused. Should he go inside? If someone lurked around in the hall, they were doing a good job of hiding from him.
“I'm here for the job interview,” Chris called out as he stepped through the doorway. “Is anyone here?”
Hinges creaked.
Two doors slammed.
Darkness deepened into a thick shadowy soup. Chris jumped and wheeled around. The folder holding his resume tumbled from his hand to a floor covered in rough tawny carpet. He tried the knob on the second door again.
Locked.
“Hey! What the hell's going on?” Chris pounded his fist against the door. Vibrations from the repeated blows shook the hinges. “If this is intended to be a joke, I'm not laughing.”
His words returned a faint echo. Dim lights sprang to life above him. Fluorescent tubes flickering with a sick glow and emitting a sputtering hum.
“This isn't funny!” Chris yanked on the doorknob harder. “Let me out of here!”
The knob refused to budge. He ripped away his hands a second later and uncorked an angry sigh. His eyes trailed from wall to wall and then floor to ceiling. Chris ran his fingers through his hair again and straightened his skinny tie. He studied his surroundings, searching for an alternate exit. An opening to a larger room stood on one end of the hall. Nothing lay in the opposite direction except a dead-end wall.
He scooped up the dropped folder again. That ragged persistent hum from the overhead lights dug into his ears as Chris walked down the hall. A scowl deepened on his lips. Man, he wished had a rock to chuck at those fixtures. Striking the lights would plunge the hall back into total darkness. Then again, at least that annoying hum would finally stop.
The hall fed directly into an expansive office. Empty cubicles dotted the room from wall to wall. No visible windows anywhere. Chairs and desks occupied random cubicles while others remained empty. Passing each occupied cubicle left Chris with an increasingly eerie feeling. None of the cubicles offered signs of recent use. Usually, an office cubicle would house an assortment of pictures, a desktop computer, and a phone. Items showing an actual human used the place as a workspace. These cubicles were an exception.
Nothing except a deserted office greeted his eyes.
If Wild Grape Marketing ever existed, that fact was no longer true. Chris licked his lips as he wandered from cubicle to cubicle. Who set up the phony job posting? Who sent a response email to his application directing him to come to this empty office? The sender of the email identified himself as Cameron Prett, lead talent recruiter at Wild Grape Marketing. Now Cameron's existence had turned into a legitimate question.
Was this merely an alias for someone else?
Chris pulled out his smartphone. He swiped the screen and encountered a dreaded notification.
Out of service area.
Chris unleashed another angry sigh and shook his head with vigor. How come he had no cell service inside an empty office building? This wasn't an isolated wilderness cut off from civilization. He drove out to an east side San Cristobal neighborhood for Christ's sake. Getting a signal around here shouldn't be a problem.
Unless someone intentionally blocked the signal.
Whoever lured him in here wanted to prevent him from reconnecting with the outside world. Why? What did he do to deserve this? This whole episode seemed a little too personal to be a random prank.
Despair gripped Chris. He desperately needed this job for Lucy's sake. Money grew sparse after getting laid off from the magazine copy desk in the spring. Being denied unemployment only tightened his budget further. Skipping random meals became a necessary step during the past month. He was willing to make whatever personal sacrifices he needed to make to keep his little dog from going hungry. Maya insisted Chris let her adopt Lucy while he got his act together. She got defensive when he told his nosy neighbor to mind her own business and zip her lips.
He pressed the emergency call button on the phone lock screen. Smartphones were supposed to connect to the nearest cell tower if you dialed an emergency number. Or so Chris had been told. Time to test that theory out. A dial pad appeared. He entered 911 and then pressed the phone against his ear.
One ring. Two rings.
“911. What's your emergency?”
“I'm trapped in an abandoned office building! I showed up for a job interview and I got locked inside.”
Chris blurted out the words with frenetic energy, betraying his increasingly anxious state.
“We can help, sir.” The dispatcher answered him a soothing tone. “Try to stay calm. What is your address?”
“616 Market Street. Please hurry.”
“Did you say 616 Market Street?”
Chris didn't like how the dispatcher repeated the street address back to him. Something about the way they said the number revealed hidden skepticism.
“That's correct. Please hurry.”
“No building is listed at that address.”
His eyes widened and his mouth fell open. What an absurd thing to say! He didn't make a mistake with the street number. The dispatcher was flat out wrong.
“Of course, there's a building here!” Fresh irritation laced through his voice. “I'm trapped inside. Please send someone. Hurry!”
'Sir, you need to stay calm or I —”
At once, the line went dead. Chris pulled the phone away from his ear and glanced at the screen. It had gone black. He pressed a button on the side with his thumb.
Still black.
“No! Not now. I charged it this morning.”
How did his battery drain so damn fast? Chris clenched his teeth and jammed the phone back inside his jacket pocket. God, he hoped the dispatcher sent someone out here to help him soon.
Chris started pacing along a row of cubicles near the south end of the room. Worried thoughts swarmed him, matching the speed of his outward nervous energy. He paused in his tense circuit when his eyes fell upon a single folded piece of printer paper. It lay on an otherwise barren desk inside the cubicle where he started and had his name written on front. How did he not notice it earlier? Chris approached the desk and set down his folder. He snatched up the paper and unfolded it.
A message filled one-third of the paper. Each word written in impeccable cursive using a calligraphy pen.
Don't waste your time waiting for help. Deliverance will never arrive. Don't bother searching for an exit. You will never escape. This is a new beginning. And also a definitive end. Your fate will be a shared one with that cruel, selfish brood who once poisoned paper with ink. Locked in an empty prison, existing beyond space and time.
His heart sank as Chris studied these words. Someone went to great lengths to lure him inside this place and trap him here. A dead phone and no visible exit complicated his efforts to fight back against their scheme.
He had to fight though. For Lucy. She couldn't be left alone in that apartment to fend for herself. For his mom and dad too. Chris was their only child. They would grow sick with grief if anything bad happened to him.
“I know I can find a way out,” he said aloud. “If I retrace my steps, maybe I'll come across another door or window that will lead me outside.”
The paper rustled in his hand as though a breeze brushed against it. Chris stared down at the unfolded sheet anew. New words were inscribed on the page, replacing the earlier message.
I won't let you escape; you fool. Get used to this place. You're not going anywhere.
His heart raced as this new message settled into his frantic mind. Chris trailed his eyes across the empty room searching for signs of his captor. Part of him prayed he wouldn't find anything. Learning who brought him here may be a mystery better left unsolved.
They were able to alter words written on a paper before his eyes while remaining unseen. Anyone that powerful also had enough power to do much more unspeakable things.
Did you enjoy my latest terrifying tale? Check out my other short stories in the Strange New Worlds archives. You can also order your copy of, Snow Dragon, my latest release that’s now available in eBook and paperback editions at major booksellers worldwide.
Halloween Sale!
For Halloween day only, you can download all four of my horror stories for 50% off the list price at Google Play. Just use the promo code 593YWSZJXAAYD to receive your discount. This offer is available only on Google Play for subscribers to this newsletter.
Skip the cheesy slasher movies this year and settle in for some real Halloween scares with these haunting tales from Samak Press.
I just had to read it again, it's so good! Seriously, well done.
Great anxiety inducing tale sir. I will take great care not to ever enter a building with that address. DYK - - While 666 is called the "number of the beast" in most manuscripts of Revelation 13:18, a fragment of the earliest papyrus 115 gives the number as 616 - hrm sneaky devil. (also maybe Earth-616?)