I know I already made a post, but since it was so small I decided to do the next one tonight as well.
I found the rough draft of this in my closet the other day, having completely forgotten it. It's a short story I wrote for my high school English class, and it's much, much better than the other old writings I found. So I've typed it up, editing it slightly. It's a lot different from my current writing style, but I think it makes a great creepypasta (though it was written before I'd discovered creepypasta)-- and I might even post it on other sites.
If you're wondering what my teacher thought of it, I think she liked it. She likened it to
American Psycho, which is a little odd since I've never seen or read it. I forget now what inspired me...
~*~
His office was his castle, his stronghold. Adrian had chosen
a large, second-floor room, one with wide windows that soaked up the sunlight.
Nothing within that room was out of place, not even a paperclip.
Just like
the office, Adrian himself was impeccably neat. His suits were perfectly
pressed, his nails manicured, his golden hair cut short and fashionably. He sat
behind the desk every day, well-sculpted fingers drumming on the glossy cherry
wood surface.
That was his
life; perfection mirrored in his environment, appearance, work. That was how he
was perceived. It was a perfection he cultivated, one he'd spent his whole life
attaining.
He had just
finished a tall caramel coffee, just thrown the paper cup into the metal
waste-bin besides his desk when there was a knock on the door. Adrian's face
tightened in frustration, an expression that was gone as quickly as it had
come.
“Come in.”
he said smoothly. A short, middle-aged woman, thin and cheerful, entered the
room: the cleaning lady. She was the only person who'd seen the inside of his
office regularly, as Adrian lived alone. She was kind and motherly, and
completely dull.
“Good
morning!” she said with the enthusiasm and cheer of a kindergarten teacher. “I
hate to interrupt, but I was hoping to get to cleaning that attic of yours
today.” Her voice grated on his ears like a fork scrapped across a ceramic
plate. Even so, he smiled- that charming smile that endeared him to so many women
(and some men).
“Sure, sure.
You'll need the key then.”
The woman
nodded. Adrian opened the top, left-hand drawer of his desk and produced a
tarnished key, dropping it into her palm.
“And what
about that room up there?” she asked with barely-restrained curiosity.
Adrian
paused. That room had never been cleaned, at least not since he'd hired her.
“It could
probably use a good scrub.” he said with a laugh. “But I have no clue where the
key ran off to. Somewhere up there, I expect.”
The lady
nodded and began to leave.
“Wait.”
Adrian stood and headed for the door. “Let me come with you. It's been forever
since I've been up there. I want to see what's hiding away.”
“Of course!”
Her enthusiasm waned a bit, but she hid it well. Anyone else wouldn't have
noticed.
As they
walked up the stairs, he ran his finger along the dark banister. The farther up
they went, the dustier the banister became. Adrian pulled a pure white
handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped the dust away. He then folded it into
a small square and tucked it away in his breast pocket.
The cleaning
lady was silent and tense at first, but after a time she seemed to relax.
Behind her eyes, Adrian could see her making assurances. Perhaps she felt that
he was suspicious?
Adrian
smiled again. She smiled back.
Finally,
they reached the top landing. The woman clattered with the door, opened it, and
took a hesitant step inside. Adrian followed. The dust hit his sinuses almost
instantly, making him sneeze.
“Let's get
some air in here.” he suggested. The lady (what was her name? Adrian
wracked his brains without success) walked over to the small window that
overlooked the front lawn and forced it open.
The attic
was dim, and it took a few minutes for their eyes to adjust. Boxes and
furniture were littered across the floor, and dust coated everything. Slight
footprints could be seen if one looked hard enough, but both Adrian and the
woman (Alana? Alicia?) were distracted by the volume of antiques.
“What a
mess!” she tutted.
“It's one
hell of a job.” he said, glancing around. “I don't envy you, Addie.” She nodded
and smiled.
At least
he'd gotten her name right.
Addie lifted
something that looked like a strange mixture of an oar and a baseball bat-
small, dented, and heavy.
“Strangest
bat I've ever seen.” she muttered. Adrian laughed and took it from her.
“It's a
cricket bat. An old find from my last trip to England.” He swung it underhand,
knocking an invisible ball across the attic. “Like so.”
“Ah. Well,
I've never been a big sports fan.” she said apologetically, and moved on to
something she found more interesting.
Swinging the
bat had left a smear of dust on his pants leg. Adrian clenched his fist
tightly. His manicured nails dug into his palm, leaving half-moon indentations.
Addie walked
over to the far wall. Beyond that wall and the old steel door was a separate
room. She watched it intently, as if she expected someone to burst through at
any moment.
“Let me
try...” Adrian felt around the ledge above the door until he found the a key.
It was cold and heavy, and strangely clean. He handed it to Addie with a smile,
snapping her out of her daze.
“Oh. Right.”
While she
tried the lock, he waked back quietly and shut the window.
“I'm having
a little trouble with this.”
Adrian
returned to the door, and with a little effort, got it to open.
There was no
doorknob on the other side, only a bolt, and the wood was scratched and dented.
They stepped inside, their shoes making a light clang on the bare steel
floor.
“What is
this? She asked, almost in a whisper. Much to his delight, her over-the-top
cheer had fully vanished, leaving behind fearful apprehension.
“A
disappointments room.” he said with the air of a teacher. “They say that in the
18th and 19th century, families would keep their mentally
ill up here, hidden away from the world.”
“That's
terrible.”
“Compared to
the asylums of the time, it was a mercy.”
They stared
into the pitch black room in silence. After a long while, Adrian cleared his
throat.
“Should I
turn on the light?”
“Yeah...”
Reaching
over, he flicked the switch, and light flooded the room.
Addie let
out a strangled cry, frozen in place.
Sitting
limply against the wall was a human form. Male or female, she couldn't tell: it
was a human skeleton, skin stretched tightly over the bones. It watched her
silently, sunken and empty blue eyes barely moving.
Behind her,
Adrian flexed slightly. He picked up the bat and swung it in a smooth arc,
bringing it down on Addie's head. She collapsed in a twitching heap, blood
pooling around her. He dropped the bat and glanced at the thing across the
room.
“You've got
company now!” It watched a little stream of blood flow towards it. “Don't
worry, I'll clean this up later.”
As he locked
up the disappointments room, he glanced down at his shirt. Speckles of blood
had soaked into the pure white fabric. He tensed, knowing that the shirt was
ruined. With a little burst of speed, he descended the stairs and turned into
the spacious bedroom. Removing the shirt in one smooth movement, he rolled it
up and dropped it into the waste-bin. He opened the wardrobe, revealing a line
of identically crisp dress shirts, and pulled one on. Opening the drawer, he
pulled out a pair of crisp slacks and changed into them, tossing the dusty pair
with the bloody shirt.
Then he
paused, running his hand through his hair. In his head, he ran over what he
knew. When did Addie usually arrive? Who knew her? Had someone seen her come?
More
importantly he thought as his agitation subsided, and he slid back into his
usual calm demeanor, I need another cleaning lady.
He smiled at
his reflection in the wardrobe mirror, watching his world click back into place
and his cultivated perfection resume control.
Returning to
his office, he sat in the chair rather like a monarch on their throne,
surveying his desk.
Not a
paperclip out of place.
Picking up
the heavy pen, he pulled a piece of paper from his file drawer and crossed the
name Addie Wilson off the list.
“Leave it to
miss sunshine to ruin my morning.” He chuckled, then dialed the next number on
the list.
