Needle

(This is an older thing of mine, but I still like it.)

The last customer left the shop, the small bell letting out a high ding as the door closed. I sighed in relief, dropping my hands to my sides. Thank goodness, the day was finally over. Mercy bustled around the kitchen as I left the counter and went to help her close up. Flour was everywhere, covering pots, pans and most importantly, Mercy herself. Mercy’s red hair was clinging to her forehead, her green apron only visible under the dough and icing.

“Will you make sure these dishes are cleaned?” She begged, grabbing her coat and getting flour all over the black velvet. “They won’t want to clean them in the morning.”

“Yes, I promise,” I assured her, my eyes rolling. The bakery was Mercy’s heart and soul. The thought of leaving me here alone scared her to death. What if I broke something?

“Just. . . Don’t forget to lock up.”

“I won’t.”

“And don’t forget. . .”

“Mercy! Go home.” She threw me an insulted glare before glancing around the shop one more time nervously. Only a few short steps brought me to her side and allowed me to grip her shoulder. I pushed her around and opened the back door one handed. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, but will my bakery?” she grumbled. I laughed and shoved her through the door. She spun around, opening her mouth to continue the argument. I snapped the door shut, shoving the dead bolt home. The lights flickered above me sending little spidery shadows all along the walls.

Finally! I hummed a little as I went about my work, putting the finishing touches on a few pastries as I closed up. It was dark outside, nearly one A.M. and I couldn’t wait to be able to go home. It had been a hectic day, no less then 12 orders of cinnamon rolls had come in during my shift alone. That was nearly twice the amount we normally received!

I plunged the roller into the steaming, soapy water, pushing against the clinging dough with impatient fingers. My bed was waiting and when I got there I wouldn’t leave until noon. The water felt good against my skin, warm and steamy. I could feel the sweat on my brow, but didn’t mind it so much as my hands transferred dish after dish from one sink to another. My eyes burned with the effort of keeping them open, my work turning to autopilot as my mind drifted.

I just couldn’t wait to go home to my warm bed. My pillows were soft and clean, my blankets would wrap around me and be my sails as I was taken from harsh reality into the warm comforts of. . .

Something very cold touched the back of my head. It wormed its way into my hair, shifting through the thin strands like a snake. Screaming, I whirled around, my hands jumping to my hair in panic. It was gone, ripping a few of the strands along with it. For a moment, I didn’t move. Just stared around the kitchen. It looked just like normal, the big black oven to my left with a preparatory counter off to the side. Great silvery cabinets adorning the walls.

My hand rubbed the sore spot gently as I turned back to the sinks. The lights above me flickered unsteadily. Calm down Natalie, I ordered myself, taking deep breaths. It had probably just been my hair getting caught on one of the drying utensils above my head. My heart beat slowed down to a more normal pace allowing my breaths to come easier. It was nothing, don’t be stupid.

It didn’t feel like nothing though, I could still imagine the cold hand wrapping around my hair. Touching me. . . I shoved the thoughts from my mind, grabbing a bowl and shoving it into the water with unnecessary force. Water slopped all up the sides and stained my apron, showering my shoes. I held my breath in anger, trying to calm down. It was stupid, it wasn’t like I had never closed up shop before.

[I]But never alone,[/I] a snide voice whispered in the back of my mind. I ignored it and went to grab the mop. The thing was so old bits of fiber were missing from the bundle. I gripped the rough worn handle comfortingly, as I pulled it back, a small piece of mirror fell from the shelf it had been leaning on. I tried to grab it before it hit the ground but it slipped through my fingers, shattering against the cold linoleum floor.

“That’s bad luck,” something whispered. Tell me about it, I thought. I dropped the mop and grabbed the broom instead. My heart was pounding again, sending the blood rushing through my veins. Thumpthump, thumpthump, thumpthump. Skittering sounded off to my right and I almost dropped the broom.

“Please,” I begged, “Don’t let it be rats.” Mercy would never forgive me if she found out there were rats in her store.

“Natalie. . .” something whispered, it’s voice was oily and smooth, goose bumps erupted all along my skin, my heart pounding ferociously.

“Shut up!” I yelled, it echoed around the store, bouncing off the silver surfaces. I felt stupid. It wasn’t real, I was just freaking myself out. I leaned my head against the broomsticks handle. Closing my eyes and breathing deeply. I was being stupid. It wasn’t real. I was just freaking out.

Now open your eyes, and just get back to work, I commanded, slowly peeling the lids back.

The mirror hung on the wall opposite me, completely full and unblemished. My fingers gripped the broom tighter. My mouth going dry. My eyes darted to the ground, where the shards of broken glass had just been scattered. There was nothing. I raised my eyes back to the mirror. My arms shaking.

The face looking back at me was distorted, strangled and thin, with dead sunken in cheeks and black lifeless eyes.

I touched my own face with shaking fingers, probing the skin. It felt the same. The mirror laughed at me, making no noise. She placed a long, white finger to her lips; motioning for me to be quiet, then pointed toward the walls.

She laughed again when I turned to gaze at them, when I looked back she was gone.

Nothing could hurt me here, it was all in my head, it was just a fake, unbelievable. . .

“Natalie,” My head jerked up, the voice coming from above me, “Naatalieee. . .” it called, soothing and quiet. It was a woman’s voice. “Please come upstairs.”

“Who. . . Who are you?”

“Please come upstairs Natalie, we don’t want to hurt you.” a snickering, high pitched giggle sounded from beneath me. I jumped backwards, straining to see clearly as the lights flickered above me. Something cold and clammy touched my bare leg. “Please come upstairs.”

The lights flickered faster, making my eyes stream water. I gasped and tried to rub them clear, but when I opened them again the kitchen was dark. Something sharp scraped against my shin, making me scream and jump into the air. Another high pitched giggle sounded. I ran, running from the supply closet in blind panic. My foot caught on the edge of something, causing me to sprawl to the ground, smashing my head against the cold, metal floor.

It giggled as it let go of my ankle.

“Natalie,” the voice whispered, its breath ruffling my hair “Oh Natalie. . . “

I pulled away, curling into a ball and clutching my bleeding leg. A shape was emerging from the darkness, a shape barely larger then a six month old child.

It was white, the skin glowing through the darkness like a beacon. Small little red eyes peered at me from a hairless face. It walked on two legs like a man, but clutched a long, thin needle in one hand. Something dribbled down the creatures mouth, spilling from its pale lips and down its little chin.

“We like you Natalie,” it whispered, “oh beautiful Natalie. . .” it rubbed its sharp needle down the length of my cheeks, caressing it gently. Another giggle sounded from above me and another from the side.

“Oh Natalie,” the voices called, “Sweet Natalie.” I screamed as they plunged their needles toward my heart.

***

When I awoke, I laid upon the flat, hard surface. My insides quivering uncontrollably. Cold seeped up through my clothing, attaching itself to the bumpy pieces of my goose pimpled skin. I couldn’t see, the night pressed in upon me, suffocating. I was stuck, my limbs iced over in cold My eyes frozen in their sockets.

I strained my muscles, trying to force them to move, but they remained stiff and immobile at my sides.

Thump.

I tried to breathe, tried to let the air flow through my lungs. Nothing happened.

Thump.

Memories of pale skin and sharp needles piercing through me, I was dead. They had killed me!

Thump. . .thump.

Something hit the roof above me. My finger twitched.

Thump. . .thump. .thump.

Slowly, painstakingly, my eyes began to shift. Becoming looser and slipperier in my sockets. They shifted, trying to pierce through the thick layer of darkness around me.

Thump.

The wood above me creaked, a small stream of dust falling on my lips.

Thump.

More dirt.

Thump, thump, thump.