Friday Afternoon(James Calton) It’s funny what goes through your mind when you stare blankly out of a bus window. It was my last day in a very long working week and I was sat dreary eyed on a bus that seemed to get its momentum and power from a hamster in its wheel. The journey seemed to take forever, which I didn’t really mind. The thought of another nine hours of speaking to the world’s stupidest people, trying to convince them to get their selves into thousands of pounds of debt had lost its appeal. Three years ago the idea of manipulating people into taking out loans that they realistically couldn’t afford, and probably wouldn’t want if they knew the truth, filled me with a kind of perverse pleasure. Though after a while it became mind numbingly dull, spoon-feeding people information they had no idea what to do with was not something I wanted to do anymore.

I looked out of the front of the bus to check that the world was actually still out there, because it felt like time had stood still inside the damp and sickly sweet atmosphere of the bus. I caught sight of the road works and let out a heavy sigh. Slumping back in to my chair I closed my eyes. The second my eyelids met, there was a scream from the back of the bus that not only hurt my ears but made my seat vibrate. I jumped up startled, my head spinning from the speed of my ascent. Steadying myself I whipped round to witness a sight that burned in to my memory like a branding iron on the backside of a cow. Spread across the inside of the bus was a middle-aged man. When I say spread, I literally mean it. With out being too macabre, his right arm and head were casually draped over the back seat. If anyone had got on at that point, if it wasn’t for the blood that covered the entire back third of the bus and the fact his left ear had been ripped off, they would have thought he was sitting calmly waiting for his stop. However on closer inspection you could see that it was his right arm and head only. The rest of his body was snagged precariously on the back window as though the slightest breath would knock him off.

Even with the horrific images and thoughts of that day, and the events that followed, one thing will stick with me until I die. On the bus, as the stunned passengers started to edge towards the biker, a voice asked from behind me, “Is he dead?”

We were told that he had been going too fast on his motorbike and hadn’t seen sixty eight year old Doris Hope heading to her weekly Women’s Institute meeting. As she attempted to cross the street the biker, not seeing her, only just missed her but in doing so managed to come crashing through the back of the bus. After what seemed like an eternity, I finished giving my statement to the police and had been given my fourth business card for a Psychiatrist or Therapist. I finally walked in to the office three hours late. Being on the third floor of the building I had a couple of minutes to relax before I hit the madness of a busy call centre. Taking my time climbing the stairs I started to think of some of the people who will be waiting in anticipation for me to arrive. Knowing the way the hierarchy worked within the company I knew that what was a private call will have been Chinese whispered round the room. As I approached the door it never occurred to me that I couldn’t hear any thing through the wall. I stopped with my hand on the door, I took a second and opened it. What was it Shakespeare wrote “Once more unto the breach dear friends”? I had prepared myself for the deluge of questions that would undoubtedly hit me, but there was nothing.

No questions, no noise, no lights, and no people. My first thought was that maybe I had walked on to the wrong floor. I turned back out to the corridor to make sure. “Level two, mortgages” I stared at the sign for nearly twenty seconds. “Where the hell is everyone?” I said out loud, as if to make sure I was still there. With a hint of nervousness creeping in, I decided to head downstairs. I had passed at least three people on my way up, there had to be someone who knew what was going on. My best bet would be the security guard who seemed to know everything. I let out a muffled laugh, “I’ve probably f***d up my shifts”, feeling utterly ridiculous. I entered the second staircase off the first floor. I had hit the third step when the lights went. I missed the next two steps tumbling half way down until I hit the midway point of the staircase. A little dazed I tried to get to my feet; however the extreme bolt of pain that erupted from my ankle prevented me. Due to my clumsiness, and some idiot, I had twisted it. Feeling annoyed but also a little relieved. It meant there was someone in the building, maybe they could tell me where the hell everybody was.

I cautiously got to my feet, feeling my way tentatively up the wall trying to figure out how close I was to the edge of the staircase. Standing upright I stepped towards the overhang of the stair. Holding my breath I made solid contact, and as I tried to pull my injured leg forwards I swayed a little. So with no one there to see, I dropped any hint of a masculine façade and let out a low whimper. Gaining control of my balance I took a baby step forward.

It was then I first heard the laughing. It was a full deep booming sound that seemed to emanate from the walls. Now, any rational person would get angry at this point, thinking they had been the victim of a practical joke. I usually see myself as rational, but there was something in that noise that made every nerve ending in my spine go into over time. I reached the first floor and stopped. I could not see my hand in front of my face so I inched forwards towards the door to the first floor office. As I headed towards what I hoped would be answers, I remember thinking, “its eleven thirty in the morning, why the hell is it so dark”.

Nothing.` I kind of expected it. The room was deserted, I stepped through the door, but the laughing seemed to get louder the further in I went and at this stage I’ll admit I was starting to feel a little worried so I backed out and shut the door. The fire protection seal hissed behind me as it made the empty room safe from any hazard, as it did this, the laughter stopped. This did not have the desired affect that I hoped it would. For a split second I thought I would calm down, but then the temperature must have dropped twenty degrees in one second. I could feel the icy cold of my breath as it drifted aimlessly through my nose. I stopped in the middle of the landing frozen with fear because I could feel someone else’s breath on the back of my neck. I stood arms clamped to my sides; an earthquake would not have moved me from that spot. I had never in my life felt the kind of fear I felt at that point. My brain was doing somersaults, it didn’t know what to do, run, fight, scream, laugh or cry. Just as I began to fear that I would die of panic, I felt the blood draining from my body, the breath stopped and the temperature in the room went back to normal.

I stood still for a good thirty seconds before my conscious self regained control of my motor functions and I realised that I could move. After a couple of very nervous steps I picked up my pace, not wanting to be in the building any more. This time I approached the stairs carefully and started down, hardly feeling the throbbing pain in my ankle. My heart was racing and felt like it wanted to break open my chest and race me down the stairs.

My feet were trying to keep pace with my heart but failing miserably so I started to fall again. But this time I made it to what was supposed to be the bottom floor. At various points through your life you have flashes of inspiration or realisation. It was when I hit the bottom floor that I realised I had a small torch attached to my keys. Fumbling about in my pocket I managed to pull it out and turn it on. It was pathetic, the light spluttered into the gloom, it barely managed to put a dent into the darkness let alone cut through it. The small beacon of light danced around the shadows, I still had no sense of where I was. Then it landed on a part of the wall that caused my heart to thud in my chest. A sign directly in front of me, it was against all logic, there was no way it was right. “Second Floor, Mortgages”, I had to read it four times to make sure I wasn’t seeing things. I swung the torch to my left, to the door that theoretically should lead to the exit, but part of me knew it wouldn’t.

Even though I refused to believe it I knew that the door would lead to my office. I did not want to go in there! You know when you’re about to do something you know you shouldn’t, your conscience will pop and say something that would stop you. This was something similar, a voice in my head was screaming “get the f*** out of here”, but even as I was thinking this, my feet decided that they did not care about what might be in there, so taking on a mind of their own they started to move towards the door.

Taking hold of the handle I could feel something warm and sticky underneath. Almost not wanting to know, I hesitantly shone the torch at my hand. Blood. My palm was coated in a thick layer of blood. I could feel my stomach start to reach as it decided that was the limit. But the irrational side of me was winning the war that was waging in my subconscious and decided to push through the madness and open the door. The image was there for only a moment, but it was long enough. They were everywhere, every one of my friends, people I worked with sprawled across the floor of the room. The blood covered every available inch of space, it was as though someone had turned on a high-pressure hose and sprayed the room. It was like a scene from a battlefield. The bodies were in every conceivable position. In that second I knew that none of them would ever walk from the room again. The thought of the image made me stagger and sway, but still my feet continued in. I stood in the empty room, my brain had decided to shut down so I was working on autopilot. Then with a flash I felt something hit into the back of me. Hitting the floor I turned as soon as I could but saw nothing there. Leaning up on my elbows, breathing so hard that I could feel my lungs, I looked round the room in terror. Then the laughter started again, only this time I knew it was coming from some thing standing not five feet away from me hidden in the shadowy corner. It came straight at me, fierce and powerful. The face came in to the range of my torchlight and I saw. I don’t know if it was the shock of what I saw or the smash I received to my face, but I was out.

It took me a second to register that I was lying in the empty office still, but I was on my own this time. After thirty seconds I decided I had the energy to stand up. Very unsteadily I took a step forward. I swear I could see light on the other side of the door, so I headed that way. It was then I heard a crash and tumble coming from the staircase on the other side of the wall, my first thought, even with everything that was going on, was “some silly sod has missed a step and taken a tumble”. It then occurred to me that I was on my own so who fell down the stairs? “It must have been me,” I said out loud. I don’t know why but I found this notion ridiculously funny and started to laugh. I couldn’t help it, my laugh got louder and more hysterical the closer I got to the door.

Stepping through, I caught sight of the lift door open, its single light bulb shining like a lighthouse calling the ships home. I got in the lift and pressed down, and then realising there was no power. I laughed harder than before. Then all of a sudden the doors shut and the lift started to move. I was at breaking point by this time and the unexpected movement of the lift tipped me over the edge. The doors opened with me still laughing. Staggering out I started to make my way towards the next flight of stairs. But as I did I heard something moving around in the office to my left. I turned and headed towards the far corner where I knew whoever it was couldn’t see me. When the door opened I could dimly see a figure hobble out. I began to sneak up behind them but stopped about a foot short. Something cracked in my mind. After about ten seconds I turned and moved back towards the stairs and headed back up to the second floor. As I climbed the stairs I remember thinking, “this can't be, it’s impossible!” I didn’t even notice the temperature fluctuation again. I was taking the steps two at a time (any thought of my ankle was long gone). I almost leapt through the door of the office not stopping until I hit the darkest corner possible. I was sitting for less than five minutes when the door opened and the figure walked in. I let it get three or four feet into the room then I charged. I ran with all the force I could muster crashing hard into the back of it. My momentum took me straight past and on to the shadows on the other side of the room.

I skirted the edge trying to stay hidden but I started laughing again. Only this didn’t sound like me, it was a strange noise, it was like someone else’s laugh was coming from my mouth. Making sure I was facing it I crept closer to the doors. I got to within ten feet when I stood on a computer keyboard. Picking it up without even thinking about it I ran. It seemed my subconscious war wasn’t over, because my brain thought I was gonna run out of the door but my feet decided that they weren’t finished, they ran straight at the figure on the floor. I was within two feet when I clearly saw its face. But in the same instance I had brought the keyboard down across it with a blow as heavy as I could force. Then, turning on the spot, I ran back through the door and that’s when I crashed in to you officer.


Signature of Witness:
Peter Hartly

Names of at least two attending officers:
PC Brant
Detective Inspector Moore

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