Chapter Thirteen; Bless You

Dear Reader,

I have been writing short stories for a few years now, I'll be honest, I have no idea where they're going or why I bother but I've always enjoyed it and when it comes down to it, do we really need a reason? I wouldn't dare say out loud that they're worth publishing, but those of you who write will know that we dream in that silver lined cloud where someone finds our work and just has to make it into a book. How bloody terrific would that be?! 

Anywho, I love writing and I wrote a particularly short short-story (I wear short shorts), the other day after remembering a comment I had seen on a post that said "Write a horror story in less than 10 words" or something of that ilk, so I took the one I liked and expanded on it a little...and it became this...

Bless You 

by 

Suzie Peckham

Steve was working late again. He could almost put money on it. Once, sometimes twice (those weeks were the worst), someone would be wheeled in at 5.55pm. Just as he was getting his coat on and had his fingers hovering blissfully over the white plastic light switches. That ‘click’ they make at the end of a day, stuff of dreams. That’s the point that he lets go, he’s one of the lucky arseholes who can leave his work AT work. As soon as those lights went out, he’s done.

Tonight was made all the more worse because his office was clear, no one at the inn, so clean and tidy, wonderful. His freezers were empty, no gurneys cluttering his work space. It was a quiet day at the office today, obviously the people of Guildford were staying safe…’Good on them’.

Steve didn’t hate his job despite having little more than a few cold ones for company all day. He actually enjoyed it the majority of the time. Steve was really Dr Stephen MacAry and he was a scientist, the mortuary was his lab and there was nothing much he loved more than a good old autopsy. He knew how dark that sounded so he would often play it down a little when speaking to friends and acquaintances. His family were also scientists however so there was no need to pretend he didn’t love his job as much as he did. There was something about working with dead bodies that creeped people out, ‘probably all those zobie movies that swamp our screens’ Steve thought.  ‘Bloody films ruin it for the rest of us.’ People never understood Steves passion for the human anatomy and how scientifically amazing it really was.

Philistines.

However much Steve did love his job, when Bran the gurney man wheeled his way, squeaking along the hall and banged through his doors, Steve did have to admit his heart sank a little. Although he did often tell people that he felt a pang of sadness when a body rolled in as it meant someone had lost a loved one, selfishly, it was mostly because it’s BLOODY FIVE TO SIX AND I WANT TO GO HOME!

Steve did not tell people that bit.

Steve did not actually know whether the gurney man’s name was Bran, he suspected it was unlikely, but whenever Steve heard the squeak of the gurney along the floor he would half sing, half say “Bran, Bran the gurney man, wheeling the dead as fast as he can.” He openly admitted to himself that it was a poor song and he could do better if he really thought about it…but why bother?

“Good evenin’ Dr MacAry, another stiff, cold one for ya!” He chuckled to himself. He said this every time he wheeled a body into the mortuary. Steve didn’t find it as amusing as Bran the gurney man. A rather louder than expected sigh escaped from Steve before he could stop it. Brans face dropped a little, looking slightly hurt and saddened by the thought that the Dr hadn’t enjoyed his joke.

Bran’s real name was Jake Small, he didn’t enjoy his job and Steve was correct in his thoughts about Bran. All his did was wheel gurneys around the hospital all day, so his little jokes were his attempt to brighten the day. He struggled to talk to people and always felt so self conscious, he wasn’t the most attractive guy, that’s not to say he was ugly, he’s just rather plain. He was used to fading into the background. Plain Jake was well aware that most people saw him as just an extension of the gurney, part of the metal framework, as though it were just wheeling itself around the hospital.

Steve saw Bran’s face fold in on itself a little and felt he should say something, poor guy looked as though he’d had his dreams crushed.

“Sorry, I wasn’t sighing because of you, well I was, but not because of your joke, just because, well you know, I get to get shot and head home. Long day you know?”

“Oh yeah mate, no worries, I get ya”, Jake figured that Steve actually had no idea about long days but he didn’t dwell on it.

Although he would probably never have that guts to say it to Dr MacAry, Jake would have loved to work in the mortuary. Being a doctors assistant has such a ring to it and it sure beat wheeling a fucking gurney around all the damn day. He wouldn’t even mind cleaning up after the Doc, shining the freezers, mopping up those bright white floors, cleaning all the blood off the tools…his mind sidetracked a little…

“Anyways Doc, I guess I’ll leave you to it…”

Secretly hoping the Doc might ask him to stay and hang out.

“Right you are, one day  I’ll get to go home on time hey?!”

“Mmm” Jake mumbled, saddened by the thought of having to leave the presence of the only person who bothered to talk to him.

He took one last look around the sleek, shiny room and backed out of the swing doors. ‘Like a Western’ he thought to himself, ‘Old fashioned shootout’.

Dr MacAry sighed as he headed back over to his instrument drawer, he thought he had closed it up for the night but the joke was on him…

Walking across the lab, his shoes squeaking all the way. Feeling a tickle in his nose, he wrinkled it up like a rabbit might. He opened his mouth hoping the sensation might pass, at first it seemed as though it had but just as the tickle disappeared it erupted.

“Achoo!”

It even surprised him a little.

“Gesundheit” said a voice from the gurney…

Creep it real dear reader. 

S.P.