The Office : Scary Stories – Short Horror Story

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Edward worked in an office, and his co-workers were plotting against him.

He knew this, but what he didn’t know was when they would act.

He had to make the first move. His survival depended on it.

Every day Edward would walk through the front doors of his office building, past the front desk, into the elevator with the flickering light and the kind of music one would expect in an office elevator, up to the third floor and past the pretty, smiling secretary, across the sea of cubicles to the one he inhabited, and he would sit down at his desk and think about all the ways his colleagues could damage him.

They could be poisoning him with lead paint chips in his coffee, or drops of mercury.

Perhaps even more worrying to Edward, was the possibility that they might be engaging in the occult, intent on sabotaging his very soul.

He imagined all manners of sacrificial rituals with Satanic symbols painted on the floor in blood.

Edward decided early on that they all had to die, but how?

He was no bomb maker, that was for sure, and he didn’t know where to acquire a gun. Even if he did, the thought of walking down hallways blasting terrified co-workers did not appeal to him.

He decided that fire would make a suitable end.

It didn’t take him long to formulate his plans, and after just a few days of surveying the layout of the building and paying careful attention to potential avenues of escape, it became clear to Edward that he would need to start the fire in the basement where there were no smoke detectors. There, the fire would grow until it burst through vents on the first floor, engulfing the only exits and securing the fate of everyone in the building.

Over the course of several days Edward made many trips into the basement with a non-descript looking mail cart that concealed tanks of gasoline and large chunks of styrofoam. He had to make sure everything was properly situated so his plan would go off without a hitch.

“I’ll burn them on a Friday,” he thought, and when that Friday came Edward walked into the office building, past the desk and into the elevator with the flickering light and typical music, but instead of going up he pressed the down button. Down, into the dark and dingy basement that contained the gasoline and styrofoam and death.

He walked carefully to the place where he would set his plan in motion, slowly so as not to bump into anything in the dark.

He pulled a book of matches from his pocket and struck one. The flame lit the space around him and he noticed something on the floor.

It was a pentagram drawn in bright red blood.

His match went out, and Edward was plunged into darkness.

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