The Beast From The Blackness

A deafening thunder strike woke Scotch up. Exhausted and confused, he swiftly surveyed his surroundings.

He was still in his office. It was dark.

His fingers found the keyboard of his laptop and interrupted the screensaver. Once his eyes had gotten used to the bright light, a glance at the screen made his heart skip a beat.

11 PM!

He’d wasted more than two hours while sleeping. He cursed out loud, rubbed his eyes and looked at the screen again. After reading the last scene he’d written, his tension eased a bit.

The Beast from the Blackness. He grinned. It was good stuff for a horror adventure game. Just a little more time was all he needed to write a surprising and fitting end.

His hands started tapping the keys more quickly as he kept staring at the screen, mesmerized by the words which were now flowing freely from his imagination.

He suddenly stopped typing and listened. There was a noise coming from the hallway. It sounded like someone was banging on doors. Between each bang was an interval of several seconds. Scotch got up from his chair and carefully opened the door of his office. There was nothing to see and the sound was moving away from him.

Maybe it was the lack of sleep from working so much these last couple of nights, but the sudden silence made his spine tingle. He gently closed the door to make as little sound as possible and walked into the opposite direction of where the sound had been. He had to check if Cookie was still working before closing up.

After he walked up the stairs and turned around the corner where the other offices were, he froze. There was blood on the door and wall.

The door was half open and the lights inside the office were flickering on and off. Scotch walked through the door opening. There was a strange smell penetrating the air.

Scattered across the office were three fresh bodies. They were horribly mutilated and there was blood everywhere. With the unstable lights flickering on and off Scotch couldn’t see much, but a severed arm and a chest slashed open were enough to make him hurry back to the hallway and head for Cookie’s office.

It just as bad as in the editorial offices. There was blood all over the desk, but Cookie himself was nowhere to be found in the well-lit room.
Scotch panicked. He ran into the hallway, darted down the stairs and into the lobby, where he sighted the automatic doors that lead to the parking lot. Just as he was about to exit the building, the voice of a terrified man sounded from behind him.

“Don’t turn around! I’ve got a gun! Just exit the building slowly with your hands above your head!”

Scotch recognized the voice of Clarence, their regular security guard.

“Clarence,” Scotch’s voice trembled, “I’ve seen what happened. We just need to get out of here, and fast!” He was now sweating and breathing heavily.

“I don’t care!” the terrified security guard answered, “Just move!”

They slowly walked toward the automatic door. Outside, a few squad cars with lights flashing awaited them. Two officers approached Scotch with drawn weapons. They shouted at him to put his hands forward and he noticed his bloody arms. When they roughly cuffed him, he caught his reflection in a squad car window. His once white t-shirt was almost entirely covered with dark stains.

The officers pushed him in a squad car. A wide-eyed Clarence was still holding a gun, pointed straight at him. His facial expression only showed fear. From the corner of his eye, Scotch could see ambulances arrive.

A shade from behind Cookie’s office window saw the squad care drive off and ambulance personnel enter the building.

The room went dark.

In an empty corner, the only things visible were a pair of red, glowing eyes, accompanied by soft chuckling.