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Posts : 55 Reputation : 0 Join date : 2023-07-06 Age : 37
Subject: "Past Away" a horror/comedy short story Thu Jul 06, 2023 12:41 am
Here's a silly little story I wrote a little while back.
Past Away:
Past Away
Harry took a long draw from his coffee cup as he walked from the warm sunlit corridors of the hospital’s ground floor and proceeded down the stair well to the cold artificial light of the basement. Another eight or more hours of his shift down in the morgue, processing the unfortunates who didn’t survive the night in the wards above. As he flicked on the light he was pleasantly surprised to see only two bodies in white sheets had been left for him and Martin to start the day. Harry took a look back down the hall towards the elevator to see if his absent colleague was anywhere to be seen. It wasn’t unlike Martin to be late, he wasn’t much of a morning person. Harry looked for change in the elevator numbers, but there was nothing heading his way and there was no point in listening for sounds in the stair well. Unlike Harry, Martin wasn’t required to hit a certain step count to burn off the remnants of delicious carbs. One of those blessed with an unbreakable metabolism. Taking one last swig of his morning coffee, Harry set his mind to the tasks ahead.
It was only as the strong, rich coffee odour disappeared from his nostrils that Harry got the sense that something wasn’t quite normal in the dingy basement room. While most of the hospital shared the same sterile smell of bleach, the morgue had a more intense smell. More sterile, air-freshener over-kill. That was the case normally, but on this Thursday morning something had changed. The room had a meaty scent. He winced a little, his mind running through possible answers to the questions that the fragrance was posing. Harry had to deal with some awful smells in the past, it was something that came with the territory when you worked with the dead. Those smells came on bad days and Harry could feel the creeping disappointment of a bad day on the horizon.
Inhaling deeply, Harry tried to find the source of the meat smell. If he was lucky it would just be the left-overs of Martin’s lunch in the bin. Harry tilted his head backwards, raising his nostrils as high as possible, before taking another big whiff and divining the smell like a cartoon dog being lured by the tantalizing odour of forbidden food. He didn’t move far before the scent grew in power, just a few steps away from one of the sheet-shrouded bodies. Harry glanced over disappointedly at the bin on the other side of the room. He felt betrayed that his wishes of a left-over meatball sub being the extent of his problems had not come true. He was still a few feet away from the body, with all it’s disgusting mystery still to be revealed. Harry tried to calm the storm of ugly images in his head, full of flesh-eating diseases and other ailments that might leave you emotionally scarred. Breathing in deeply calmed Harry’s nerves even if it was sucking in more of the meat stench. He tried to remove the context of the room, closing his eyes. Without the sight of the morgue with it’s body drawers and surgical tools, the smell became more palatable, more like a roast dinner with his parents. Harry found himself salivating a little, and then remembering the context felt sick to his stomach.
Opening his eyes again, he looked at the body with a sharper focus. The cadaver itself was still obscured by the sheet but there was telltale signs that were giving Harry a preview of what he had in store. The sheet was stained, or in the process of staining. A greasy yellow stain was absorbing into the fabric. Harry gagged and took a step back, giving himself a better view of the same oily grease dripping from the steel table, pooling on the tiled floor below. He looked from the floor to the door, hoping that Martin might walk in at that moment. Harry could make an excuse to leave for ten minutes and leave the task of the mystery stench to Martin. Another desperate wish that failed to come true. Harry knew he couldn’t wish his problems away, he’d have to face them dead on. His hands shook as he reached forwards to grab the corners of the sheet. Another deep breath steadied his nerves before clenching his eyes tight and pulling back the sheet.
Harry took a step back from the table, the sheet falling to the floor next to him. A mixture of emotions swirled inside of him as he surveyed what lay on the table in front of him. Harry pinched the bridge of his nose, and breathed out a heavy sigh. He was a little glad he hadn’t seen Martin yet because Harry felt like he would have knocked him out at this moment in time. The anger inside of him was mixed with other conflicting feelings. Harry felt impressed, disappointed, disgusted, and relieved at the same time. Looking back at the table, Harry marvelled at the sight of the enormous pile of spaghetti bolognaise, formed into the shape of a human being that lay there. It wasn’t a particularly funny joke, definitely not funny enough for the amount of time and effort Martin had probably spent cooking it, getting it here, and how much time he’d spend cleaning it up afterwards. It was still impressive, it had looked just like a person before he had pulled the sheet away.
Harry sat down on a stool, taking a second to compose himself as all the tension released from his body. The thoughts of how Martin pulled this off started to shift to why Martin had pulled this off. It was Thursday, that was all Harry could think of. It wasn’t a significant date, or a particularly slow day that a little levity could remedy. That’s all it takes too, a little levity to deal with the monotony. Not this meat man, that’s way too much for a meal let alone a prank. The choice of food also lacked any real significance. Harry wasn’t really a foodie sort of guy, thinking back over any food-based conversations that the two morgue attendants might have had, the only thing coming to mind was the mention of the occasional summer BBQ. In the present, there was not a steak or sausage to be seen, just a giant man-shaped pile of spaghetti.
Another element of the prank that Harry found odd was that Martin wasn’t here to witness the glory of Harry’s reaction. He scanned the room for the blinking red recording light of a hidden camera. Nothing. Not even the webcams on the computers. It was surreal. The only other possibility was that Martin was hiding in the room with him. Neither of them felt squeamish about lying in the morgue drawers. It was quite refreshing to have a little nap inside one of them, especially if you were feeling a little hungover. Perhaps Martin had climbed inside to watch, and fallen asleep. It made sense of why he hadn’t jumped out yet to revel in the success of his prank, and if he had been drinking, the prank made more sense too. Harry looked around at the steel doors that lined the wall of the room, three high, five across. All the doors were closed, which made them an awful place to spy from. Martin could be in any of them, so with a swirl of his wrist Harry pointed to one at random and swung it open.
The air from the drawer rushed out, hitting Harry in the face with a meaty slap. That same meaty stench from earlier, with it’s obvious smell of onions and garlic that had somehow evaded Harry’s detection before. Closing the door had hidden the smell, working with the spaghetti must have made Martin reek of the stuff so it was a clever way to hide himself. That’s what Harry thought at least before pulling out the drawer to find another homunculus of Italian cuisine.
“For fuck sake Martin. This is too much. You know I’m not helping you with this. I don’t do unpaid overtime.” Harry’s words faded away with no response. “This is an awful attempt at humour. I know that morgue guys are supposed to be a little socially inept but you’re really showing it today.” Harry swung open another morgue drawer. This one was thankfully empty of spaghetti, but there was no Martin inside either. The tension had started to work its way back into Harry’s muscles, increasing with each drawer he opened. Fifteen drawers hanging open, six with noodle cadavers dripping grease onto the tile floor. Harry threw his hands up in the air in frustration. “Hope you are really laughing it up somewhere buddy.”
Harry paced across the room to the door, looking towards the elevator and down to the other end of the hall. The elevator was up on the third floor and the hall lead down to maintenance access. The hall may as well have been a dead end, he doubted that Martin would be hiding amongst the generators. Harry looked back into the morgue with it’s spaghetti men peeking out from various points in the room. Rummaging in his pocket, Harry pulled out his phone. There was rarely any signal down in the basement but there was the occasional bar that would let slip a message from the outside world. Maybe Martin would have sent some kind of sadistic note, laughing at him from his secret pasta lair. Maybe this was his way of saying he was quitting to run away to Italy. The phone screen lit up, absent of messages. There were the bright numbers, telling Harry the time. It was shockingly close to noon. The morning had escaped in the midst of all this prank insanity. Martin was running spectacularly late, even by his standards. Harry thought for a moment about going upstairs to phone Martin, to release the morning’s frustration upon him with strong words, or at least sending him 100 shit emojis. It was a satisfying plan in Harry’s mind but there was a concern that if he left the morgue in this state, his boss might arrive for a surprise inspection. It wouldn’t be the first time and this was way beyond the strict sterile environment that was expected of the morgue. Thinking of what the dire repercussions of this mess could be Harry clenched his fists and returned to the morgue.
The devastation of this prank gone way too far lay before him and even if Harry wanted to start cleaning it up, he had no idea where to start. When he had started the shift he thought it would be easy, there was only two bodies wheeled in. Well, one body and one To Go order. Harry looked over at the other body, still lying under it’s white sheet. That bastard. Harry knew that Martin was a sick fucker, with his love of horror movies. He had been “Saw”ing Harry the whole time. Just lying in the room, getting his sick rocks off listening to Harry freaking out. Harry stepped quickly but quietly across to the body and grabbed the edge of the transportable autopsy table. A grin spread across his face in anticipation for his revenge. The clatter of steel on tile rang through the air as the body hit the floor. The splatter of sauce accompanied as beef and noodles covered Harry’s shoes.
“WHAT!?!” screamed Harry. He had been certain this time. Harry was losing it. He screamed again, this time without words. How had he done this? Harry had been to Martin’s home a couple times for a post-shift drink. Martin’s kitchen was tiny. Minuscule. These bolognaise abominations didn’t make any fucking sense. Harry grabbed a handful of spaghetti and in a rage, threw it across the room. It didn’t result in much, just an awkward smear of sauce running down one of the cabinets, but it made Harry feel better. He started to catch his breath when he heard the ping of the elevator arriving. Harry stood in petrified silence at the sound of hasty footsteps travelling down the hall.
“HARRY!!” Martin stood in the doorway. There was shock and relief in his voice as if Martin hadn’t seen Harry in the morgue with him for the last 6 years, and was pleasantly surprised. He walked towards Harry, a friendly smile beaming across his face. “It’s absolute chaos-” Martin started but before he could finish his sentence, Harry had pelted him with a handful of spag bol.
“You fucking arse-hole! You absolute fuck!! You think you can come in here after subjecting me to all this!” Harry was a mess, both physically and emotionally. His shirt stained orange-red, his eyes on the edge of tears. Martin stared back, wounded that his friend would accuse him of such cruelty.
“Harry! Please listen to me! I know this is confusing, it’s beyond unbelievable but it’s real.” Martin pleaded to Harry. Looking toward Martin with a sceptical eye, Harry dropped the noodles from his clenched fist. “I don’t know what time it started, just that it was after I left for work. I was stuck in my car, in traffic with this madness on the radio. Just calls coming in from all over the country. People phoning in saying that their grandmothers were missing and there were a weird piles of spaghetti in their bed. Morgue workers, Harry, people like us finding our work like this…” Martin gestured towards the drawers “…One guy, half out his mind said he had just hit a deer, but his car was just smeared in sauce-”
“Fuck you.” Harry reached down and grabbed another handful of the floor spaghetti. “How fucking stupid do you think I am?” He wasn’t screaming, but his tone was razor sharp with anger. “People are dying and turning into GOD DAMN fucking spaghetti. How do you think of this shit Martin and what THE FUCK did I do to you that you thought this would be funny?” Harry grabbed Martin by his collar with one hand while smushing sauce and beef into Martin’s face and hair. Shaking himself free of Harry’s grip, Martin moved further into the room and away from Harry’s fists.
“Don’t you think I know this sounds insane Harry?! People are dying and turning into food. If this was the other way around, with you explaining it to me, I’d think it was a joke too! But it’s not funny, it’s fucking stupid and I don’t know what’s happening! It just is happening. You have to believe me, please!” Tears started to run down Martin’s face, his mind full of confusion and fear. Harry couldn’t believe any of it. It was ridiculous and Martin was ridiculous if he thought Harry would buy into any of his lies. It was just like Martin to think he was an idiot. His rage boiled to the surface and Harry moved towards Martin with raised fists. Trying to escape, Martin jolted backwards but his shoes slipped on the sauce and grease. He fell hard, a deafening crack as his head struck the tile floor. As a red halo of blood pooled out from behind Martin’s head, Harry felt the rage inside him suddenly replace with fear and sadness.
Harry crouched on the floor next to Martin. “Stay awake man, you have to stay awake. I can’t leave you here to get help if you won’t stay awake.” He looked desperately between the door and Martin’s face, which was getting paler by the second. Help was so close by but the life was draining from him so quickly.
“It’s alright. Things just went so crazy…” Martin whispered. He tried to let out a laugh but it was ruined with coughing. Harry thought that Martin looked peaceful and in a blink he was gone. Harry felt the sauce soaking into his trousers, the smell of tomatoes and garlic overwhelming his senses.
tahwarts
Posts : 19 Reputation : 0 Join date : 2023-07-03 Age : 26 Location : crotia
Subject: Re: "Past Away" a horror/comedy short story Thu Jul 06, 2023 11:26 am
i really like this! i like the sense of mundanity in the first part, like the sense of having a job thats creepy and kinda shitty sometimes but needs to get done, and i think this also gives a good sense of harrys character right away, which let me really emphatize with him and his frustration throughout the rest of the story. i did not see the spaghetti plot twist coming, it caught me completely off guard and that made me laugh. overall you made a silly premise work! i feel really bad for martin though.
Subject: "Past Away" a horror/comedy short story 
Thu Jul 06, 2023 12:41 am
