General Fiction posted June 16, 2021 |
A Modern Grand-Guignol
Mask-er-Raid
by Lobber
The author has placed a warning on this post for violence.
I put on my mask and entered the building.
The electronic door closed behind me with its normal hydraulic wheeze. When the stench hit me, I put on my second mask.
The lobby was dark, I thought...unusually dark. All of the pilot-light systems were off. There were no small flashing blue, red or green lights —indicators for the active fire, emergency and Wifi systems, common to a building of this type and size.
Also, the profound silence struck me as strange...no metallic air vents puffing away, like addicted chain smokers. Then, maybe it was best not to have the smell move about.
For a second I remembered as a child being able to open the third-floor window in my schoolhouse -- Why? ... to get fresh air. I realized how much we now live, ride, work and play in sealed air-tight coffins.
I scanned the area nearest to me with my flashlight. The first thing I noticed was the yellow-gowned bodies lying on the floor. They were in precise positions…like knights on a chessboard. Their garb clearly labeled them as the hospital’s front-line Covid screeners. Their only job was to make sure only people with legitimate reasons for being in the hospital were allowed to pass. It's clear someone disagreed with their job description.
The beam from my flashlight bounced across the shiny plastic of their PPE visors. All of the various limbs from these people were bent and askew, or missing.
I was grateful to be spared having to see the grotesque contortions of each face. Someone else would have to see, and deal with the faces of these heroes.
As I explored the lobby, I felt I was exploring the inside of a horrible, festering vessel, full of dead parasites that used to be humans.
As an almost daily visitor to WC Hospital, I was familiar with the basic setup of its lobby. Single black chairs sat next to the floor-to-ceiling windows. The chairs were provided for outpatients, waiting for their return transportation.
While my own mobility condition slowed me down, for this job it increased the number of minutes I had for seeing the details around me. Perhaps that's why I was picked.
During the pandemic, turning left or right was not a choice in the hospital. All welcomed visitors were funneled forward and then asked to sanitize their hands.
The black and white main dispenser station stood like a well-disciplined guard at attention. On the side of the dispenser was a blood print of a hand...the first finger was missing. The dull blood-print appeared in sharp contrast to the dispenser’s shiny, white background. For some reason, all four gallons of the gel dispensers were empty.
In the daytime, this space was open, airy, and inviting. Tonight it felt like an abandoned, urban graveyard —the gateway to Hell.
As I moved forward, I could sense the three, twenty-foot-high palm trees about me. To my left was a grey plexiglass wall, behind which normally sat the hospital’s security guards. When not doing security checks, they sat monitoring the hospital‘s 24-hour security system. The TV monitors were turned on, but all of the monitors displayed a test pattern. No guards appeared to be in the room.
To my right was the Information Desk. Ever since the start of the pandemic, the Desk, (usually manned by volunteers), had closed. Since then the space near the curved desk was used to hold the many “free to use” wheelchairs. There were usually many additional chairs behind the desk.
I aimed the flashlight down the corridor leading to the food court and drugstore. The quiet darkness struck me as if it were a cavern offering unimaginable horrors.
I heard a sound behind me. I swung the flashlight and caught a glimpse of two rats scurrying toward the elevators up ahead. I would explore the corridor later.
I looked down and found a piece of 4” x 6“ paper on the floor. It was a flyer with artwork showing Commedia dell'arte masks. It was announcing the opening of a play. The cost of entry was "used masks". I realized that the box normally used as a Suggestions Box was being used to hold the "used masks" as payment for entry into the theatre. The lobby had been converted into a theatre lobby.
In front of me was the next screening station. The screeners were missing and so were their tables that were protected by plexiglass. In their place was a roll of about 20 wheelchairs, all of them facing the bank of four elevators beyond. It was like the front row section of a 1960 Théâtre du Grand-Guignol - the famous “theater of horrors and blood” in Paris of old.
I pointed my light across the gleaming white tile floor. On the floor ahead of me, I saw a strange dark circle, about six feet across. As I walked toward it, I thought it was a black mat. But as I got closer, I realized it was a pool...how deep and how it got there, I don’t know.
Its sheer presence forced me to stop. It made my brain freeze. My light beam reflected off the surface of the liquid in the pit. Its surface was dark, but my flashlight caught a blue Covid mask floating on the surface.
I put the flyer in my pocket. As I approached the area, a spotlight from above came on lighting the whole surface...it revealed a pool of gently churning water. Floating on the surface were pink, blue, and yellow Covid masks.
Next to the small pool was a narrow, three-foot-tall wooden box. Inside of the open-ended box stood a five-foot metal rod with a hook on its end.
I donned my pair of surgical gloves and grabbed the rod from the box.
As I poked around on the surface, it appeared that there was a layer of about four inches of masks. I poked under the circulating layer of masks and a dead animal came to the surface. At first, I thought it was a rat, but the shape was wrong. I poked at it, but it sank below the surface and disappeared. Then, another one bobbed to the surface...I was able to hook it. I froze in terror. It was the head of a woman and I had hooked the head by its jaw. I gently lifted my catch. The cheekbone and forehead were prominent in the bright light...there were no eyes, just the sockets. Suddenly I realized that the matted head reminded me of my daughter — the features were alike. I released the head back into the pool.
Then, two more heads came to the surface. At this point, I gave a curdling scream and threw up.
I dropped the rod and flashlight and collapsed to my knees.
My mind swirled. How many more heads were in the pool? What purpose did they serve? Why were there no masks not on the heads?
I closed my eyes and prayed for strength. When I opened my eyes I realized my flashlight had rolled away from me. It was still on and its beam lit the floor for about twenty feet towards the public seating area.
I could see pairs of rats going back-and-forth across the beam on the floor. It was not clear what treasures they were feasting on.
I retrieved my flashlight and returned my focus on getting to the bank of elevators. I slowly ventured toward them.
The first elevator had its doors shut, except for a three-inch opening. Something was keeping the doors from closing. I aimed my light to the floor then moved the beam upwards. At the top there appeared a grotesquely shaped object. It was a human hand.
It dangled motionless with its thumb pointing upwards – perhaps a prophetic warning as to what lay above.
The doors to the second and third elevators were closed.
The fourth elevator door was open and I moved cautiously to the opening. I could see the side cables in the elevator shaft. They, and the top of the elevator car, were about four feet below the surface of the lobby floor.
I moved forward and looked down. At the back of the shaft's opening, I could see one or two human arms.
As I viewed across the area, I discovered it actually held about eight to ten feet of human arms. There was no order to the grizzly stack sitting on the top of an elevator car. Clotted blood seemed to create a demonic mountain of madness.
I stepped closer and peered down. At the bottom of the stack was a shimmering sea of something very wet. My light beam brought the objects into focus. There appeared to be about two feet of human eyes gazing heavenly upwards as a collective plea for help.
As I stood there in shock, I could hear a whirling sound. The third elevator had come to life. The indicator lights showed it was traveling nonstop to the first floor. I backed up and leaned against the wall for support. I began to cry from fear, unaware that my bladder was now empty.
Out of the side of my eye, I could see movement across the pool. The wheelchairs were being filled with ghost-like figures, slowly taking their seats in the row of wheelchairs.
I realized the play had only just begun. Props, special effects, my mask, lighting,… they were all in place for the grand-Guignol. I looked at my watch, it was 8:30 p.m. and the audience had taken their seats. The lights began to dim.
This Sentence Starts The Story contest entry
I put on my mask and entered the building.
The electronic door closed behind me with its normal hydraulic wheeze. When the stench hit me, I put on my second mask.
The lobby was dark, I thought...unusually dark. All of the pilot-light systems were off. There were no small flashing blue, red or green lights —indicators for the active fire, emergency and Wifi systems, common to a building of this type and size.
Also, the profound silence struck me as strange...no metallic air vents puffing away, like addicted chain smokers. Then, maybe it was best not to have the smell move about.
For a second I remembered as a child being able to open the third-floor window in my schoolhouse -- Why? ... to get fresh air. I realized how much we now live, ride, work and play in sealed air-tight coffins.
I scanned the area nearest to me with my flashlight. The first thing I noticed was the yellow-gowned bodies lying on the floor. They were in precise positions…like knights on a chessboard. Their garb clearly labeled them as the hospital’s front-line Covid screeners. Their only job was to make sure only people with legitimate reasons for being in the hospital were allowed to pass. It's clear someone disagreed with their job description.
The beam from my flashlight bounced across the shiny plastic of their PPE visors. All of the various limbs from these people were bent and askew, or missing.
I was grateful to be spared having to see the grotesque contortions of each face. Someone else would have to see, and deal with the faces of these heroes.
As I explored the lobby, I felt I was exploring the inside of a horrible, festering vessel, full of dead parasites that used to be humans.
As an almost daily visitor to WC Hospital, I was familiar with the basic setup of its lobby. Single black chairs sat next to the floor-to-ceiling windows. The chairs were provided for outpatients, waiting for their return transportation.
While my own mobility condition slowed me down, for this job it increased the number of minutes I had for seeing the details around me. Perhaps that's why I was picked.
During the pandemic, turning left or right was not a choice in the hospital. All welcomed visitors were funneled forward and then asked to sanitize their hands.
The black and white main dispenser station stood like a well-disciplined guard at attention. On the side of the dispenser was a blood print of a hand...the first finger was missing. The dull blood-print appeared in sharp contrast to the dispenser’s shiny, white background. For some reason, all four gallons of the gel dispensers were empty.
In the daytime, this space was open, airy, and inviting. Tonight it felt like an abandoned, urban graveyard —the gateway to Hell.
As I moved forward, I could sense the three, twenty-foot-high palm trees about me. To my left was a grey plexiglass wall, behind which normally sat the hospital’s security guards. When not doing security checks, they sat monitoring the hospital‘s 24-hour security system. The TV monitors were turned on, but all of the monitors displayed a test pattern. No guards appeared to be in the room.
To my right was the Information Desk. Ever since the start of the pandemic, the Desk, (usually manned by volunteers), had closed. Since then the space near the curved desk was used to hold the many “free to use” wheelchairs. There were usually many additional chairs behind the desk.
I aimed the flashlight down the corridor leading to the food court and drugstore. The quiet darkness struck me as if it were a cavern offering unimaginable horrors.
I heard a sound behind me. I swung the flashlight and caught a glimpse of two rats scurrying toward the elevators up ahead. I would explore the corridor later.
I looked down and found a piece of 4” x 6“ paper on the floor. It was a flyer with artwork showing Commedia dell'arte masks. It was announcing the opening of a play. The cost of entry was "used masks". I realized that the box normally used as a Suggestions Box was being used to hold the "used masks" as payment for entry into the theatre. The lobby had been converted into a theatre lobby.
In front of me was the next screening station. The screeners were missing and so were their tables that were protected by plexiglass. In their place was a roll of about 20 wheelchairs, all of them facing the bank of four elevators beyond. It was like the front row section of a 1960 Théâtre du Grand-Guignol - the famous “theater of horrors and blood” in Paris of old.
I pointed my light across the gleaming white tile floor. On the floor ahead of me, I saw a strange dark circle, about six feet across. As I walked toward it, I thought it was a black mat. But as I got closer, I realized it was a pool...how deep and how it got there, I don’t know.
Its sheer presence forced me to stop. It made my brain freeze. My light beam reflected off the surface of the liquid in the pit. Its surface was dark, but my flashlight caught a blue Covid mask floating on the surface.
I put the flyer in my pocket. As I approached the area, a spotlight from above came on lighting the whole surface...it revealed a pool of gently churning water. Floating on the surface were pink, blue, and yellow Covid masks.
Next to the small pool was a narrow, three-foot-tall wooden box. Inside of the open-ended box stood a five-foot metal rod with a hook on its end.
I donned my pair of surgical gloves and grabbed the rod from the box.
As I poked around on the surface, it appeared that there was a layer of about four inches of masks. I poked under the circulating layer of masks and a dead animal came to the surface. At first, I thought it was a rat, but the shape was wrong. I poked at it, but it sank below the surface and disappeared. Then, another one bobbed to the surface...I was able to hook it. I froze in terror. It was the head of a woman and I had hooked the head by its jaw. I gently lifted my catch. The cheekbone and forehead were prominent in the bright light...there were no eyes, just the sockets. Suddenly I realized that the matted head reminded me of my daughter — the features were alike. I released the head back into the pool.
Then, two more heads came to the surface. At this point, I gave a curdling scream and threw up.
I dropped the rod and flashlight and collapsed to my knees.
My mind swirled. How many more heads were in the pool? What purpose did they serve? Why were there no masks not on the heads?
I closed my eyes and prayed for strength. When I opened my eyes I realized my flashlight had rolled away from me. It was still on and its beam lit the floor for about twenty feet towards the public seating area.
I could see pairs of rats going back-and-forth across the beam on the floor. It was not clear what treasures they were feasting on.
I retrieved my flashlight and returned my focus on getting to the bank of elevators. I slowly ventured toward them.
The first elevator had its doors shut, except for a three-inch opening. Something was keeping the doors from closing. I aimed my light to the floor then moved the beam upwards. At the top there appeared a grotesquely shaped object. It was a human hand.
It dangled motionless with its thumb pointing upwards – perhaps a prophetic warning as to what lay above.
The doors to the second and third elevators were closed.
The fourth elevator door was open and I moved cautiously to the opening. I could see the side cables in the elevator shaft. They, and the top of the elevator car, were about four feet below the surface of the lobby floor.
I moved forward and looked down. At the back of the shaft's opening, I could see one or two human arms.
As I viewed across the area, I discovered it actually held about eight to ten feet of human arms. There was no order to the grizzly stack sitting on the top of an elevator car. Clotted blood seemed to create a demonic mountain of madness.
I stepped closer and peered down. At the bottom of the stack was a shimmering sea of something very wet. My light beam brought the objects into focus. There appeared to be about two feet of human eyes gazing heavenly upwards as a collective plea for help.
As I stood there in shock, I could hear a whirling sound. The third elevator had come to life. The indicator lights showed it was traveling nonstop to the first floor. I backed up and leaned against the wall for support. I began to cry from fear, unaware that my bladder was now empty.
Out of the side of my eye, I could see movement across the pool. The wheelchairs were being filled with ghost-like figures, slowly taking their seats in the row of wheelchairs.
I realized the play had only just begun. Props, special effects, my mask, lighting,… they were all in place for the grand-Guignol. I looked at my watch, it was 8:30 p.m. and the audience had taken their seats. The lights began to dim.
The electronic door closed behind me with its normal hydraulic wheeze. When the stench hit me, I put on my second mask.
The lobby was dark, I thought...unusually dark. All of the pilot-light systems were off. There were no small flashing blue, red or green lights —indicators for the active fire, emergency and Wifi systems, common to a building of this type and size.
Also, the profound silence struck me as strange...no metallic air vents puffing away, like addicted chain smokers. Then, maybe it was best not to have the smell move about.
For a second I remembered as a child being able to open the third-floor window in my schoolhouse -- Why? ... to get fresh air. I realized how much we now live, ride, work and play in sealed air-tight coffins.
I scanned the area nearest to me with my flashlight. The first thing I noticed was the yellow-gowned bodies lying on the floor. They were in precise positions…like knights on a chessboard. Their garb clearly labeled them as the hospital’s front-line Covid screeners. Their only job was to make sure only people with legitimate reasons for being in the hospital were allowed to pass. It's clear someone disagreed with their job description.
The beam from my flashlight bounced across the shiny plastic of their PPE visors. All of the various limbs from these people were bent and askew, or missing.
I was grateful to be spared having to see the grotesque contortions of each face. Someone else would have to see, and deal with the faces of these heroes.
As I explored the lobby, I felt I was exploring the inside of a horrible, festering vessel, full of dead parasites that used to be humans.
As an almost daily visitor to WC Hospital, I was familiar with the basic setup of its lobby. Single black chairs sat next to the floor-to-ceiling windows. The chairs were provided for outpatients, waiting for their return transportation.
While my own mobility condition slowed me down, for this job it increased the number of minutes I had for seeing the details around me. Perhaps that's why I was picked.
During the pandemic, turning left or right was not a choice in the hospital. All welcomed visitors were funneled forward and then asked to sanitize their hands.
The black and white main dispenser station stood like a well-disciplined guard at attention. On the side of the dispenser was a blood print of a hand...the first finger was missing. The dull blood-print appeared in sharp contrast to the dispenser’s shiny, white background. For some reason, all four gallons of the gel dispensers were empty.
In the daytime, this space was open, airy, and inviting. Tonight it felt like an abandoned, urban graveyard —the gateway to Hell.
As I moved forward, I could sense the three, twenty-foot-high palm trees about me. To my left was a grey plexiglass wall, behind which normally sat the hospital’s security guards. When not doing security checks, they sat monitoring the hospital‘s 24-hour security system. The TV monitors were turned on, but all of the monitors displayed a test pattern. No guards appeared to be in the room.
To my right was the Information Desk. Ever since the start of the pandemic, the Desk, (usually manned by volunteers), had closed. Since then the space near the curved desk was used to hold the many “free to use” wheelchairs. There were usually many additional chairs behind the desk.
I aimed the flashlight down the corridor leading to the food court and drugstore. The quiet darkness struck me as if it were a cavern offering unimaginable horrors.
I heard a sound behind me. I swung the flashlight and caught a glimpse of two rats scurrying toward the elevators up ahead. I would explore the corridor later.
I looked down and found a piece of 4” x 6“ paper on the floor. It was a flyer with artwork showing Commedia dell'arte masks. It was announcing the opening of a play. The cost of entry was "used masks". I realized that the box normally used as a Suggestions Box was being used to hold the "used masks" as payment for entry into the theatre. The lobby had been converted into a theatre lobby.
In front of me was the next screening station. The screeners were missing and so were their tables that were protected by plexiglass. In their place was a roll of about 20 wheelchairs, all of them facing the bank of four elevators beyond. It was like the front row section of a 1960 Théâtre du Grand-Guignol - the famous “theater of horrors and blood” in Paris of old.
I pointed my light across the gleaming white tile floor. On the floor ahead of me, I saw a strange dark circle, about six feet across. As I walked toward it, I thought it was a black mat. But as I got closer, I realized it was a pool...how deep and how it got there, I don’t know.
Its sheer presence forced me to stop. It made my brain freeze. My light beam reflected off the surface of the liquid in the pit. Its surface was dark, but my flashlight caught a blue Covid mask floating on the surface.
I put the flyer in my pocket. As I approached the area, a spotlight from above came on lighting the whole surface...it revealed a pool of gently churning water. Floating on the surface were pink, blue, and yellow Covid masks.
Next to the small pool was a narrow, three-foot-tall wooden box. Inside of the open-ended box stood a five-foot metal rod with a hook on its end.
I donned my pair of surgical gloves and grabbed the rod from the box.
As I poked around on the surface, it appeared that there was a layer of about four inches of masks. I poked under the circulating layer of masks and a dead animal came to the surface. At first, I thought it was a rat, but the shape was wrong. I poked at it, but it sank below the surface and disappeared. Then, another one bobbed to the surface...I was able to hook it. I froze in terror. It was the head of a woman and I had hooked the head by its jaw. I gently lifted my catch. The cheekbone and forehead were prominent in the bright light...there were no eyes, just the sockets. Suddenly I realized that the matted head reminded me of my daughter — the features were alike. I released the head back into the pool.
Then, two more heads came to the surface. At this point, I gave a curdling scream and threw up.
I dropped the rod and flashlight and collapsed to my knees.
My mind swirled. How many more heads were in the pool? What purpose did they serve? Why were there no masks not on the heads?
I closed my eyes and prayed for strength. When I opened my eyes I realized my flashlight had rolled away from me. It was still on and its beam lit the floor for about twenty feet towards the public seating area.
I could see pairs of rats going back-and-forth across the beam on the floor. It was not clear what treasures they were feasting on.
I retrieved my flashlight and returned my focus on getting to the bank of elevators. I slowly ventured toward them.
The first elevator had its doors shut, except for a three-inch opening. Something was keeping the doors from closing. I aimed my light to the floor then moved the beam upwards. At the top there appeared a grotesquely shaped object. It was a human hand.
It dangled motionless with its thumb pointing upwards – perhaps a prophetic warning as to what lay above.
The doors to the second and third elevators were closed.
The fourth elevator door was open and I moved cautiously to the opening. I could see the side cables in the elevator shaft. They, and the top of the elevator car, were about four feet below the surface of the lobby floor.
I moved forward and looked down. At the back of the shaft's opening, I could see one or two human arms.
As I viewed across the area, I discovered it actually held about eight to ten feet of human arms. There was no order to the grizzly stack sitting on the top of an elevator car. Clotted blood seemed to create a demonic mountain of madness.
I stepped closer and peered down. At the bottom of the stack was a shimmering sea of something very wet. My light beam brought the objects into focus. There appeared to be about two feet of human eyes gazing heavenly upwards as a collective plea for help.
As I stood there in shock, I could hear a whirling sound. The third elevator had come to life. The indicator lights showed it was traveling nonstop to the first floor. I backed up and leaned against the wall for support. I began to cry from fear, unaware that my bladder was now empty.
Out of the side of my eye, I could see movement across the pool. The wheelchairs were being filled with ghost-like figures, slowly taking their seats in the row of wheelchairs.
I realized the play had only just begun. Props, special effects, my mask, lighting,… they were all in place for the grand-Guignol. I looked at my watch, it was 8:30 p.m. and the audience had taken their seats. The lights began to dim.
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