Spencer Canton.
That's what his ID said that was strategically placed on his white shirt, as if people would take the trouble of learn the name of a pharmacist. Encouraging.
Spencer hated his life, he believed he could walk through life without complications until he was threatened with being thrown out of the house. For his sake, her mother had said with tears in her eyes, yes, of course, for his sake.
And now there he was, wearing a uniform similar to that of a surgeon, even though he only worked in a pharmacy. He hadn't yet really clear what his work really was.
"Delivery the merchandise, son"
That was all his boss told him, he was supposed to work in the dispatch area, not making deliveries but hey, work is work.
Spencer was never superstitious, even when at the University he shared a room with a weird guy who said he saw dead people, Spencer never believed him, you can't trust in someone who hates chocolate and makes rare concoctions at night while playing a drum.
Yes, that boy was weird, who hates chocolate?.
Even when Spencer didn't believe in ghosts or undead he could say in the book he would write when he grew old, that it would be called "My memories", that the place where he had to deliver a box of a drug with an unpronounceable and long name, was super weird and baleful.
A chill ran down his back as he passed the security fence and greeted the guard with nervousness, which certainly didn't return the greeting. Not only baleful but also discourteous .
He continued to drive trying to appear calm, parked right at the entrance of the large house where it read on a poster somewhat ramshackle for the time "Psychic The Cry Of The Owl."
For some reason the name amused him, although it was not appropriate to put a mental institution in his name something that had to do with "screaming", the name reminded him of a book by Patricia Highsmith that he never finished reading.
As he passed the glass doors he met a kind of receptionist, she told him where to go. Rare, he just had to deliver the box, someone signed and goodbye.
The office to which they directed it was that of the director of the institution. A tall, broad man with glasses and bald head, This subject expire an aura that made Spencer shiver.
"You brought the order?" - The question of the great man who could have been a mobster if he decided to change his profession one day, sounded more like they were doing something illegal instead of simply delivering drugs.
"Here it is, I need you to sign here" - The man took the paper clip and signed with reluctance, then took the rectangular box and dismissed Spencer with his hand, as if an annoying fly was frightened.
Spencer just left, carefully following the steps that took him to that office. On the way, two nurses who looked like security guards because of their height and physical condition, carried a woman who kept shouting. Something about why she didn't want more holes in his head.
Jezz... Yes, more chills. The sooner he left that literally crazy place better.
Spencer took the delivery car and returned to the pharmacy, his first day was weird and still wasn't over.
In the pharmacy the course of the day was normal, he began to familiarize with the boxes and to make friends with the coffee machine in the rest room. All normal until he received a message from one of his co-workers. The least you want to hear any worker and much less on your first day.
"The boss asks to see you in his office"
God. There should be a rule or something like that you can't be fired on the first day.
Spencer went and assumed everything as the responsible man he pretended to be, his boss just looked at him with a calmness that made him feel restless.
"Spencer, missing an Oxytetracycline box, do you have any idea where they might be?" - Spencer blinked quickly without understanding.
"He asked me to deliver it" - The boss just raised an eyebrow in disbelief.
"I never did that" - ok... That didn't sound good at all.
"Wait a few minutes here, I'll be right back" - Before the big boss said something Spencer as the responsible man he was fled.
The path he took in the morning to the psychiatric clinic looked strange, not like he did before, now he looked degassed and with boiling growing everywhere, he didn't remember any of that before.
Arriving at the entrance was the worst, first he was surprised that the trellis had no guard or gate, but the entrance was neglected with the walls half falling, almost as if it had been decades since someone entered the place.
Odd thing since he could bet his little finger that he was there in the morning.
Ignoring all the warnings and forebodings that he shouldn't enter that dismal place, he still did, following the path he knew early and ignoring the holes in the wall, on the floor, the moisture marks, the pool of dried blood on the floor...
Ok, he quickened his pace and arrived at the 'director's' office, since Spencer had the day he had, he was not surprised to see the box with the drugs, intact, just as he had delivered it. He thought about leaving once but a strange sensation for a change froze him in that place, then a lugubrious voice cried out loudly.
"I don't want to, I don't want a hole in my head!"
Spencer forced himself to react and ran as fast as possible to get out of the horrible place and get to the delivery car, already inside and feeling sure he stopped holding his breath without realizing he was holding it.
I was about to turn on the vehicle when the delivery clip caught his attention, just because if he took it and looked at the delivery early. Another shiver enveloped him.
On the receipt sheet was the signature of the psychiatric director, which meant that the morning thing did happen.
Okay, enough, he would go to the pharmacy and deliver the drugs and take advantage as he was and resign.
He had heard hundreds of times that the first day of work was the worst, but this was ridiculously exaggerated.
He started the vehicle and left the site without looking back, just for what cost Spencer still didn't believe in the ghosts but definitely that work wasn't worth his sanity.
They didn't even pay so well.
I was thinking on make it about terror but... I couldn't xD thats my entry for the #twentyfourhourshortstory contest :) i hope u like<3
Very True !! nice one !!
Yeah...didn't like chocolate, that's why he was weird! Your dry wit got me.