Backstage at the Calamity, Vol. I No. IV: A Whole Lotta Nothin', and the Groundskeeper Part IV

Table of Contents

• What the F*CK did I Work On This Week?

• A Bit of Flash: The Groundskeeper, Part IV

• What’s Published and Where You Can Find It

  • Odds ‘n’ Endings Stories

• Postscript

• Acknowledgements

What the F*CK did I Work On This Week?

As the preamble describes, little progress was made in the various writing endeavors I have undertaken due to illness. The ability to focus deeply on these stories was fitfully disrupted and thus my general prolificacy was subdued to a major extent. I did, however, manage to recover some of my focus to produce a new chapter of The Groundskeeper, a new chapter of Vampire’s Vengeance, and make some headway in my review of my book, Unholy Requiem. I hope to make up for as much lost time as possible this coming week.

Without further ado, the next installment of The Groundskeeper:

A Bit of Flash: The Groundskeeper, Part IV

First time tuning in? Start here.

Continued from Part III here.

I am very much trying not to freak the fuck out right now. In processing what's happening, I arrive at two possible conclusions:

1. in the complete and total darkness, I am transported to another dimension, and the flickering lights in the employee hall pull me back to my own, or

2. I've totally lost it, I'm bonkers, and this is all a figment of my imagination.

I'm almost 60% sure it's the latter, but I am filled with doubt. The simple fact is I have no idea what's going on, and trying to make sense of it really only serves to supplant my growing fear that I might actually be insane. But enough of that. I don't have time to ponder my potential madness. The heavy breathing, so recently making itself known, is getting louder, or closer, or both.

Step by step, I attempt to separate myself from the source of the sound, moving in the opposite direction, but I seem to make no progress. I'm afraid to run; what if the lights flicker again and I end up slamming into a table or a wall? There's too much unknown and it bothers me to have no anchor set in reality. What is reality? What is darkness, even?

Who fucking knows and why fucking bother.

The lights flicker again and I find myself inches from the wall, right next to the door to the break room. Well it's a good thing I wasn't running, now isn't it? I mentally pat myself on the back while also rolling my eyes at how ridiculous I think I am. I grab the door jamb just as the lights go off again. Keeping my hand in contact with the wall, I start making my way down the hall, but stop when I realize I have no idea where the breaker panel is. If my rationale serves me well, I think the panel should be either in the break room or a janitor's closet. However, I don't think there was a panel on the wall in the break room, and I don't recall coming across a janitor's closet when I first made way through the employee hall. The problem is, of course, I wasn't actually looking for either. I was looking for the lockers; I was also looking for a human.

Does any of this matter? Nope. Not one bit. Once I realize I have no idea in what direction to go, the wall disappears from my touch and I feel hot, heavy breathing on the back of my neck. My hackles rise to full height, ready to abandon my skin and leave me to my doom. Fear overwhelms me. I let out a wild scream and take off running. The heavy breathing becomes more coarse as I barrel my way through the dark. I can sense it beginning to fall behind as I move forward in complete recklessness. The lights flicker back on and I run headlong into a metal panel. I bang my head on the plate, and the impact throws me back from the wall a ways. The plate swings open and I have enough time to register the neat column of switches before the lights shut off again.

I lie on my back for a moment. My head is throbbing. My forehead is pulsing. Everything above my eyeballs hurts. But I recall the wall disappearing right from under my touch earlier and know I have precious little time to just lie here before this wall vanishes as well. I roll over and crawl to the wall, slowly standing against my body's loudest protests, run my fingers up the column of switches, and throw the one at the top.

The lights come on. I breathe a sigh of relief. I look around and notice something's not quite right. Or a few somethings, actually. First, I'm not in any room I remember seeing in the employee hall. I don't recognize this place. There's exposed plumbing all around me. Second, there's blood everywhere. The walls, somewhat recognizable as red brick, are oozing with it. The floor is covered in it such that it rises to cover the tops of toes of my shoes. I'm stunned. Incredulous. I don't know how to make sense of this. And then the pain in my head returns and the metallic smell hits me and I'm losing my dinner all over the uncovered parts of my shoes.

I must be going crazy. I was just lying on this floor a moment ago and I recall not swimming in this. I turn around, throw the main switch. The lights go out. I throw it again. The lights return and there is no blood anywhere. Just a small basement room with exposed plumbing and a plain concrete floor. My head still hurts like hell, though, and there's vomit all over my shoes.

There's a door opposite where I stand before the breaker panel. I open it to find a short stair, which ends at another door. This door opens up on the employee hall. I want to figure out how I managed to end up here from the break room, but at that moment all manner of strange sounds carry into the hall from outside: screams, cries, howls, and other sounds I cannot place yet grate on hearing, like nails on a chalkboard.

This is one hell of a way to start my shift.

Continued in Part V

What’s Published and Where You Can Find It

These are the top stories currently in circulation.

Odds ‘n’ Endings Stories

These stories share a single connective thread through them all: the Odds ‘n’ Endings Boutique. The Proprietor—a timeless individual of many faces, few scruples, and a whole lot of character—deals in artifacts, each containing peculiar traits. These are the stories of the Boutique’s patrons.

Postscript

Thank you so much for taking the time to sit with me as I discuss my progress and share with an original tale. If you feel so inclined, please send me replies! Any and all feedback is welcome. I yet remain at pains to produce a better title for this periodical; any ideas in this vein are welcome as well. And if you are on the butterfly app, come follow me! You can find me on Bluesky here.

Acknowledgements

• Overall design by L V N A C Y

• “The Groundskeeper” background image by Chris Anderson on Unsplash