"Baby Monitor"

 
(submitted to Authonomy - FFF - October 14, 2011 - 416 word)

“I’m late, everybody doing OK tonight?” as the old building’s heavy door slammed.

“Old” Harry, our security guard, sat chuckling maliciously behind his desk. “Crazy” Grace, clapping, whistling, and skipping up the hall, was grinning like a Cheshire cat. “Chicken” Joyce, bow-legged and limping, carefully climbed the basement stairs and yelled, “Wash is in…”

Desks were dusted, carpets vacuumed and bathrooms stocked, scrubbed and disinfected. All that was left…fresh bathroom towels for the “prissy” executives, they had their ‘own’. What made them think they were too good for the employees’ facilities and TOO GOOD for paper towels?

Lifting the wet towels from the washer, Joyce filled the oversized dryer. Stepping back, she peered into the dark rooms of the old basement. She heard something, sounded like breathing. Quickly throwing in softener sheets, she slammed the door, turned on the timer and pressed the start button. Her heart beat faster. She limped around the corner and looked back. The breathing was louder…closer…

Finished upstairs, Amy walked to the main staircase and down to the first floor open lobby. “Grace is in the kitchen…” Harry said, sitting cross-legged, tapping his nightstick against his shoe.

Passing the basement door, she could faintly hear the dryer running. Amy waited, and watched as Joyce scuffled to the stairs, nervously looked around again, grabbed the railing and, step by step, meticulously returned.

“How much longer…”

She was well behind the regular schedule. “Another hour…my legs are really bad tonight, sorry,” she replied, with a phony smile. “Would you mind getting them when they’re done?”

“You know the schedule…tonight’s your night, sorry!” You only clean the president’s office and do the laundry ONCE a week…lazy ass!
An hour passed, limping out of the office, she made her way slowly to the basement.

Harry wasn’t at his desk…apparently on his nightly rounds. Grace, coming up the hall from the kitchen, dragging a full garbage bag, called out, “Towels done yet?”

“She’s doing them now.”

Harry was on the steps outside the building and Grace stopped at the basement door. She gave him a wink and laughed uncontrollably.

As she folded, the breathing began again…heavy and forceful. “Joyce…JOYCE…GET OUT…I’m coming for YOU!!”

Grace flipped the basement lights off, back on and waited.

Joyce ran up the stairs, two at a time, white as a sheet, eyes saucer wide. “This place IS HAUNTED!” Pushing Grace aside, she bolted passed Harry and out the door.

Laughing wildly, we all came to the same conclusion…her legs were FINE!!


© 2011 Gretchen Steen