ࡱ> 7 \bjbjUU 7|7|Xl4     ,d6, L };}}}0}}P} ֎  r 06 } } SEEING THINGS OFFICE HALLUCINATIONS "You're fired". "What?" "Get out. I don't want you in my sight any more. Leave the building in five minutes or I'll call Security." Charles Philpott stood and leant forward on his desk, aggressively facing down his junior colleague. His face was red with shouting and his mouth was dry. He had been sacking people all day it seemed. Ever since that 'phone call. That 'phone call. Drastic cuts had to be made if he was to keep his business empire intact and there was no room for any dead-weight. He stared as the younger man despondently stood up and walked out of the pristine white office and he smiled to himself satisfactorily. He had never liked Jeffries anyway and the crawling little bastard had finally got his comeuppance. The door to the office slammed shut and Charles sat back in his executive leather seat and savagely undid his tie. There was a crash. The door was thrown open again and there stood Jeffries. Staring at Philpott. Charles instinctively went for his top drawer. The drawer with the gun in it... "Let me just say this you bastard. People aren't going to take you steam rolling all over them forever you know. You'll get yours one day and when that happens, I want to be there." "Get out of this office now, said Philpott flatly. "I'm not going to be intimidated by a sad little fuck like yourself Jeffries. You haven't got the balls to do anything about anything." Jeffries face fell and he dropped his glare and walked back to the door. "I'll make sure you never work in this city again!!" screamed Philpott as the door was closed, more respectfully this time. "Tosser" spat Charles to himself as he sat back down. The intercom buzzed. Charles mopped his brow and prepared himself for the next onslaught on his vocal cords. "Yes, what is it?" "You wanted to see me Mr. Philpott?" It was his Secretary. He paused. Sod it, he could do without this. Mrs. Prentice was one of those rare employees of his that actually did the job she was paid to. But, needs must. "Yes, but what I have to say can easily be said without you coming in. It's like this, you either take a thirty percent pay cut or you leave now." There was silence. "Goodbye Mr. Philpott." The intercom clicked off. A long silence. "Bugger". He mopped his brow with his red handkerchief and poured himself another drink. He picked up the 'phone. "Michael? Yes, Charles here. I've taken some pretty drastic steps to limit the, errr, problem. Meeting on Monday as planned? OK. I'll let you know what's been happening then. Yes. Yes. Alright then, we'll have to but I can tell you, I'm not very popular around these parts today and I can't see my popularity rating getting any higher. Still, do I care? See you". He put the 'phone down and downed his drink in one go. He looked around the office. His office. His clean white polished spick and span office with its expensive pictures, it's matching accessories and it's large windows overlooking the city. The city he once had control of. Not any more. He punched the desk with his clenched fist and screamed in frustration. He had worked for forty years to get this far. People had respected him in his day. Oh sure he had been ruthless. Sure he had been a bastard. But that was the way of things. The way it had to be. The only way to survive in the city. Then he had taken too many risks. He had begun to lose it. He had let the job take control of him and he had lost it. People had started taking advantage of his increasingly weak position and then he had received news of this latest crisis. An attempted hostile take-over of his parent company. He was forced to maximise his resources. Make the most of what little money his company had left. He had to do what he was doing. But part of him enjoyed it. He liked the power over other peoples lives and this could be his last chance to exercise that power. Ruining people forever. He liked it. * * * He left the office late that night. It was the weekend now and he had to go home and get thinking. Back to the country to revive his flagging body for Monday's traumas. He looked around the empty reception area. He saw the huge beaming picture of himself by the lift. Someone had drawn a moustache and glasses over it. Sore losers. Next to his vandalised, beaming face was a slogan written on the wall in thick red marker pen. You'll get yours Philpott you bastard Philpott smirked at this and shook his head. Someone in Security must have let this happen right under their noses. Well, he would show them. He looked at the Security guard who promptly turned away to the black and white monitor screens placed in their neat rows. Philpott gave up trying to catch his eye. He was too tired. This office may have to be vacated soon. He would have to find somewhere cheaper. Besides, it held bad vibes for him now. He didn't speak or look at the Security guard that sat behind the desk and the Security guard barely acknowledged his presence as Charles Philpott left the office for the last time. The guard watched Charles on the monitor as he went into the car park. He relaxed in his chair and switched the electronic door locks on. He was alone. Or so he thought. Something had manifested itself in the corner of the foyer. Something shimmering. Silvery. Transparent. It glided over the carpet of the reception area and past the unwitting guard. It went through the glass door and outside into the cold, dark misty night. A pillar of silver light. Charles pulled his coat over his neck as his breath blew frosty clouds into the night. His car was parked in it's designated spot and had not surprisingly been keyed down both sides by someone. Another ex-employee, recently sacked without notice. Another sore loser. He would monitor the videotapes next week and find out who it was. He just wanted to get home now and put his feet up to prepare for the coming storm. The shimmering thing that followed him halted in the middle of the car park and it monitored Philpott as he clambered into his car and started it up. It moved to one side as he gunned the engine and roared out of his parking bay toward the entrance. As Charles drove out of the complex, he looked in his mirror thoughtfully. He could have sworn he had seen something stood there in the mist. Something silvery... No, of course not. He must be seeing things. * * * ROAD HALLUCINATIONS 12:30 AM. Charles felt the puncture first. Then he heard the familiar noise. That rhythmic bump bump bump as the tyre spun uselessly on the alloy wheel. He pulled over to the hard shoulder of the motorway, wearily got out of the car and walked over in the freezing night to the nearside rear wheel as traffic sped past into the darkness. "Oh sod it!" he exclaimed and he kicked the useless ring of rubber that sat there in it's shredded state on the fancy wheel. He considered phoning for assistance but he decided it would be just as quick to fix the wheel himself at this time of night and he proceeded to remove the unused factory toolkit from the boot of the Mercedes and tried to work out how to use the thing. Half an hour was all it took. He considered that to be a success for him as he was slightly inebriated and who could blame him after all he had been through? Of course, he was running the risk of being stopped by the Police, but surely they would see who he was and let him off with a caution? They must see sense after all he had been through the previous day. He was Charles Philpott. In his arrogant state of mind he had no doubt at all that he would get away with it. As he dumped the now useless wheel back into the boot he sensed rather than heard that he was not alone. Something was watching him. Something was with him. You'll get yours Philpott you bastard. "Who's there?" he shouted into the night as he whirled around. But there was nothing to be seen. Only blackness and the orange glow of the motorway lights to break it up. There was almost complete silence but for the distant rumble of traffic. "Get a grip Philpott" he told himself as a slight breeze blew past him. He pulled his coat higher and closed the boot. Within a few minutes he was back on his way home. On the verge by where his car had been stopped, a shimmering silvery shape watched him depart. It stayed there for a while as if considering it's next move before it disappeared in the twinkling of a Police patrol car's headlights. * * * HOME HALLUCINATIONS The silver shape stood outside the large country mansion. Its semi-transparent form shimmered in the brilliant reflected early morning moonlight that shone down now the mist had cleared. It was now 01:10 and it was waiting for someone. It would not be long now. Headlights illuminating the surrounding trees, the red Mercedes convertible pulled sharply onto the driveway, it's tyres crunched on the white gravel and sharply threw some up into the air as it skidded to a halt. Charles Philpott undid his seatbelt and clambered out of the car hurriedly, slamming the door violently as he headed toward the large country house that was his pride and joy. A shaft of light bled out onto the drive as the front door was opened for him by the pale faced Butler that stood there. He held a silver tray with a glass of wine perched on it in his right hand and Philpott roughly scooped the glass up and the wine was downed in a single gulp. He slammed the glass back on the tray and looked up at his Butler. "Good evening Sir. Can I get you anyth...?" Fuck off." "Very well Sir. I'll be in my quarters should you want me." The Butler turned to leave but he was grabbed by the shoulder and spun round to face Charles. "No. You fail to understand me Medford. I want you to leave. I want you to fuck off out of this house and never come back. You're useless and what's more, you're fired." The two men stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity and then Medford the ex-Butler dropped his head and slouched off towards his room to pack his things. Charles made a disparaging laugh at the old man's stooped back and closed the front door. He headed off into the lounge area. Medford turned to look behind him and rebelliously let the glass fall to the floor with a crash. The tray swiftly followed with a clatter and Medford glared at the open door that Charles had just walked through. He jerked two fingers up into the air violently and went to go and pack his things. The hall was now empty. Or was it? If anyone had been watching, they would have seen a shape, an indistinct blurred image that might just have been humanoid. It shimmered transparently as it "stood" on the tiles and it moved almost imperceptibly toward the entrance that Charles had just left the hall through. It was following him. * * * Charles had heard the smash of the glass and he had considered having another go at the Butler but decided against it. All he wanted to do was to get seriously sloshed and he was halfway there already. He went to the cocktail cabinet and opened it up. He poured himself at least one glass of everything he could get his hands on and when the glasses were empty, he topped them all up again. The drinks barely touched the sides of his mouth as he dropped them back down his throat one by one. He just wanted to forget it all until Monday and booze was the only way he knew how. Behind his back, Medford entered the room clutching a suitcase full of his possessions and watched as Charles stood there draining glass after glass of liquor. He shook his head in sympathy for the man and turned to go without saying goodbye to the man who had employed him for over thirty years, as the silver shape glided behind him unseen and entered the lounge. Medford left the mansion and trudged up the driveway road toward a waiting taxi. He knew not where he was going, all he knew was that he was well out of this house. Things had been going downhill for a long time ever since the divorce of Mr. Philpott and he wasn't paid to take abuse. This wasn't the first time he had been "sacked" but it was the last. All loyalties were forgotten and he no longer owed Charles bloody Philpott any favours at all. * * * Philpott drank the last of the whisky with a sigh and slumped into a waiting armchair. Something caught his eye. A shimmer of reflected light. He turned his head and saw it. The thing. There it stood. A pillar of silvery transparent light. A something. Incomprehensible. "Izsh that you Medford?" called out Philpott in his confused state. The thing glittered in response. Philpott blinked once and when he opened his eyes, the shape was gone. "Musht be hallushinating" he said to himself and he dragged himself up and off to bed clutching a half-empty Brandy bottle. The shape re-materialised on the stairs and watched him go. It drifted up after him. * * * BEDROOM HALLUCINATIONS A nightmare. Terrible. Images. Shouts, screams. You'll get yours Philpott you bastard. Accusing faces screaming at him, demanding questions of him as he tumbled about in the sweaty damp bed moaning loudly to himself. Guilty conscience. You'll get yours Philpott you bastard. He woke with a start and shook his head to clear himself of the visions. Breathing heavily he didn't notice it for a few minutes. Stood there. Shimmering. "What the fuck?" he said almost to himself as the thing tracked across the room. The thing was a pillar in shape, but he could see through it. It had no face or features, but he could tell it was watching him. It was watching him. It wanted HIM. What the hell was it? He could not tell. Was he still asleep and dreaming? He stubbed his toe on the sideboard. "OW! Jesus!!" he screamed. No, not a dream then. The drink? He checked the time. 10:00 PM. He had slept all through Saturday. The booze should have worn off by now. Whatever this thing was, it was real. "Medford!!" he called as he stood facing the silver shape that moved toward him inexorably. "Medford!!" he bawled even louder than before but the Butler did not come and he realised with a start that he had sacked him that morning. The thing got closer and it seemed to glow as it did so. He instinctively backed away and it began to shine with an unearthly light. Bright luminescence. Overpowering. As Philpott backed against the wall the thing let loose a stream of electrical energy that blew a hole in the wall close to Charles' head. "CHRIST!!" he shouted and he ducked out of the way and ran past the thing into the hall. It turned and followed him, hovering above the deep carpet and buzzing intensely. "Oh shit, oh shit..." cried Philpott as he ran downstairs naked and into the dining room. There was a gun cabinet on the wall. The weapons were mainly for decorative purposes but they still worked. He smashed open the glass cover, yanked out a hunting rifle and loaded it with gunpowder and shot. The shimmering thing appeared in a flash at the bottom of the stairs and loosed off another bolt of sizzling electrical energy at his head and he fired back. The shot went THROUGH the thing and into the wall behind. Philpott dropped to his knees and whimpered to himself as the thing moved in for the kill... You'll get yours Philpott you bastard. The thought flashed through his head and his eyes snapped open like shutters. No. Not like this. He would not allow it. He wanted to show the world a thing or two yet and he would not allow this, this THING to destroy him before he had destroyed those who had brought him down. The pillar of shimmering silver had halted about three feet away from him and it glowed brighter than ever as it prepared to let loose again. Philpott held his breath and with a cry of anger he leapt up and ran as fast as he could past the thing, keeping his head down as best he could. The thing tracked to follow him and it fired, but he was already out of the door and running to his car. Charles clambered into the Mercedes and started it up with the keys that were in the pocket of the long trench coat he had grabbed from the hallstand. The engine kicked into life and with a screech of tyres and the rumble of gravel he was away and out of sight within seconds. The pillar of energy appeared in the doorway and watched him go before it disappeared completely out of sight. * * * POLICE STATION Philpott drove the car at almost suicidal speeds down the narrow country lanes in his bid to escape whatever it was. He gripped the wheel in vice-like hands and made sharper turns than were safe through the twisting lanes. His unblinking eyes fixed on the road ahead with grim determination as he tried to rationalise the situation. Seeing things, he MUST be seeing things!! This was insane!! A pillar of silvery light??!! Things like this didn't happen in REAL orderly life!?!? What was going on? He must be overstressed. That must be the problem. Overwork. You'll get yours Philpott you bastard. There was a sudden bang and the car lurched dangerously to one side as Philpott tried desperately to regain control of the spinning Mercedes. What the fuck was going on NOW? With the sound of rending metal and smashing glass, Charles Philpott drove into a tree. His head was snapped forward violently as he halted and the driver's airbag deployed in microseconds to cushion him. "CHRIST!!" he shouted to nobody in particular and he got out of the car and stood by it in the middle of the road wearing only his coat. His feet got cut on the broken glass as he went to the back of the car to see what had caused the crash. His newly "fixed" wheel. He hadn't put the bolts back in tightly enough. The wheel had come straight off and he had been driving on three tyres for the last three hundred yards of his journey. Nasty. He looked up and down the road desperately but there was no sign of the thing pursuing him. Maybe he HAD imagined it? Maybe he had simply escaped for now... * * * You'll get yours Philpott you bastard. That one thought kept Charles' mind alert as he walked tenderly down the damp road to the nearest town where he knew he would find a Police station. He would not be beaten. There it was. After nearly half an hours walking. His naked feet ached like nothing on earth. At least he would be OK now. His one thought was to get inside where he would be amongst other people. Rational people? Maybe they wouldn't believe him? He would make them believe. He was Charles Philpott. They were bound to believe him. High-powered executives like him didn't make things up. They would listen to him and he would at least be safe. Safe from the thing. * * * A what sir?" The desk Sergeant looked down his nose and past his bushy moustache at a bedraggled Charles who stood leant against the reception counter with an ever-increasing pool of water forming around him on the floor. "A silvery pillar of light. Kind of...transparent. It fired off energy bolts or something at me. It was trying to kill me." "Really sir" sighed the Sergeant as he licked the end of his HB pencil and wrote down some brief facts on the report sheet. "And, what else did this "thing" do sir?" "Nothing. It was trying to KILL ME. I didn't exactly wait around and watch it have a shit did I?" "That's quite enough of that sir." The Sergeant looked behind him into the wardroom and glanced at the other three officers sat by the kettle and rolled his eyes at them. They burst into laughter and mumbled amongst themselves. "Look. Listen to me you BASTARDS. I AM TELLING THE TRUTH. I HAVE SOMETHING FOLLOWING ME AND IT IS NOT FRIENDLY. WHY DON'T YOU BELIEVE ME??" The desk Sergeant looked down at the messy soaking figure of a man with his cut bleeding feet wearing nothing but a wet trench coat and sighed. "I DO believe you sir. Why don't you just sit over there while I fill out an incident report and we'll keep an eye out for this thing shall we?" The Sergeant pointed to a long cushioned bench by the noticeboard and stared at Philpott patronisingly. Philpott knew he was taking the piss, but he sat down where indicated anyway and watched as the Sergeant filled out form after form. You'll get yours Philpott you bastard. "I'm not mad you know". "I know that sir" replied the Sergeant almost immediately. Too quickly perhaps. Without thought. There was an embarrassed pause. "You aren't thinking of having me committed are you, because I'm not mad. I'm Charles Philpott. I'm very big in the city you know." "Of course you are sir." The Sergeant looked up and beamed at him jovially and Philpott smiled nervously back. He was tired beyond belief. He allowed his eyes to close and his head to droop. "This, errr, thing you mentioned sir. Did it look anything like this?" Philpott looked up. IT WAS THERE. STOOD NEXT TO THE POLICE SERGEANT. "Oh my God" he muttered quietly to himself as the Sergeant casually looked the thing up and down. It was spinning its silvery dance less than two feet from the Sergeant's shoulder. Looking through it, Philpott could see that the Police Officers behind in the other rooms were not even looking at it. Like it wasn't really there. "I'll take that as a yes then shall I sir?" asked the Sergeant, calmly ticking a box on another form as the thing shone unearthly brilliance all over the room. You'll get yours Philpott you bastard. Philpott couldn't move. He was stuck to the spot in sheer terror as this THING shimmered and span in front of his very eyes. The Sergeant appeared next to him and leant down to whisper into his damp ear. "Nice, isn't it?" he asked politely as he pushed the small automatic pistol to Charles' temple. "Very handy for weeding out disgusting little parasites like yourself. Very handy for removing the dregs of society that we can quite easily do without, without upsetting the status quo. Very handy for getting rid of nasty pieces of work like you, eh Mr. Philpott?" You'll get yours Philpott you bastard. Philpott looked round in sheer terror at the face of the Sergeant as the spinning pillar of light got brighter, casting reflections all around the station reception. The Sergeant's face was lit like a beacon as he grimaced the last words Charles would ever hear. "Of course, the old fashioned methods are good too." The Sergeant pulled the trigger and blew Charles' brains and two pints of blood out of his head and all over the desk. END Andrew John Summersgill 27/28/07/94. 'nl""%%6 7G7m7 808I@o@DDFGK&KSSV VGXnXZZ\\\\\\56CJOJQJ6CJOJQJ56CJOJQJ5>*CJOJQJ CJOJQJ56B*CJ0OJQJph+'()9:BC+,CD $a$$a$\   ( ) < = y z   ~  -.$a$$% mn_`$a$$a$45cdjklV W 5"6"""$a$$a$"""##$$%%%%%%%%&&;(<())))))q*r*I,J,$a$$a$J,t-u-----......1122J4K4Q4R44455i5j566$a$$a$66666666 7 7 777)7*7F7G7n7o777 8 818288899$a$$a$999?:@:;;p;q;;;<<6=7===H@I@p@q@@@AACC-D.D$a$$a$.DDDDDDDDDFFFFGGGGHHIIXJYJJJJJJJ$a$$a$JJK'K(KKKLLLLLLMMMMMMNNO OOO,P-PQQ$a$$a$QQQ4R5R0S1SSSSSSS[T\T|T}TUUUU$V%V3V4VWVXVWW$a$$a$WFXGXnXoX=Y>YZZZZ[[\\\\\\\\\\\$a$$a$. 00P. A!"#$n%. 00P. A!"#$n%. 00P. 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