She walked into my office and shot me. I stared at her face, covered by a black veil, and at the gun in her hand, smoke rising from the barrel. Then I looked down at my chest and saw the flower of red that was spreading across my shirt. “Shit,” I said as I collapsed to the ground.
“I told you not to meddle, Johnny Coldclock,” she said. “But you had to go and stick your neck in where it wasn’t wanted.”
“I’m not Johnny,” I coughed. “I’m Rick Stephenson. Johnny Coldclock is next door.”
I heard her say, as if from a great distance, the words “Oh, Goddammit, not again.” Then I blacked out.
I don’t know where this idea came from, but I just had to get it out of my head once it was there. It’s too long for a microfic, so I put it here on the blog.
To whom it may concern,
Thank you for considering my application for the position of Specialty Assistant at your local establishment. Ever since I graduated, I’ve wanted the opportunity to really dig my teeth into the barrier between the real and the unreal. I think this position will finally give me that chance.
In addition to a passion for the work, I bring a considerable amount of practical skill to the table. I have extensive knowledge of grimoires, skinning knives, and bloodstone amulets, as well as prior experience with Microsoft Office. I also have great customer service skills. Once, when I was working as a cashier at Heinen’s, I was able to quiet a particularly disruptive customer by removing the flesh from my face, allowing them to see the terrible visage that lurked underneath. Needless to say, they never caused another disturbance again.
Thank you for taking the time to review my application. I can be reached via phone every evening between the hour at which the wolves first begin to howl and the hour at which the cock crows. I will follow up via summoning ritual in two weeks time. I look forward to hearing from you.
86 Desolation Lane
OK, so I know I said I’d write something every week and I’m a few days late. Sorry about that. Anyway, this just popped into my head the other day while applying for jobs.
Steve filed in to the auditorium with his fellow employees. At the podium was the CEO, her face twisted into a smile that made dogs howl.
“Thank you all for coming,” said the CEO to the assembled crowd. “We have a really exciting piece of news for you all. We are ready to proceed with phase two of the Great Transferal. Now is the time to ready ourselves to topple the governments of the world. We shall begin immediately.”
As his co-workers shuffled off their flesh, exposing the alien forms underneath, Steve began to wonder if he should have chosen a different place of employment.
The CEO of my company sent out a really cryptic email about a surprise mandatory meeting, and this popped into my head. The announcement turned out to be that the CTO is retiring. I guess you humans get to live another day.
The photo is yet another one from my trip to Wales. It depicts the newspaper where Dylan Thomas worked.