Here are the remnants of a writing project I started but never finished. I just didn’t see the story developing any further than what’s posted here. Maybe someday I’ll resume work on it but for now, here’s my story of your typical call room and its unilluminated corner where no one dares to go.
It was a lively morning in the call room. Agents sat at their cubicles, taking calls and troubleshooting problems with their customers’ Internet service. There were assistant agents roaming about the room and making sure the agents had the help they needed to solve these issues, and managers sat at their desks while monitoring the productivity levels of everyone working in the room. Indeed, the mood in the room was lively and energetic.
It was ironic that in the exact same room at the opposite side was a mood completely opposite than the lively mood that spanned the rest of the room. Here it was dark from the lack of overhead lighting, rendering a darkness so heavy that no one could see who or what was lurking in the darkness and yet there could be heard voices and typing on keyboards. Occasionally an agent would work up the courage to see who was there but fear would overwhelm their senses to send them fleeing to their cubicles in regret of their curiosity.
No one wanted to work near what was called the Unilluminated Corner. Agents would often show up at work earlier than usual so they could pick a cubicle as far from the dark side of the room as possible. Those who were late were the unlucky ones who would spend the day hearing voices and typing emanating from the darkness behind them. Often they assured themselves that the sounds were coming from fellow agents accustomed to working in the dark but these assurances were always squelched by a nagging mystery that was the source of much terror among the agents.
No one has ever seen those who work in the Unilluminated Corner. All that was heard were the voices and typing, nonstop, all day, every day without hesitation but alas, not one agent has ever emerged from the Unilluminated Corner.
So it was that morning when the lively atmosphere in the call room was suddenly punctured by a piercing scream. One of the agents was standing and pointing towards the Unilluminated Corner.
Someone was emerging from the darkness.
It was just a young man dressed in a white polo shirt and blue jeans, and his appearance was no different from everyone else, but his walking out of the darkness was cause for great alarm. All eyes in the room were on him as he walked past the cubicles with his hands in his pockets. The atmosphere in the room had now reached levels of unbearable tension and this was of slight annoyance to the agent. He tried to ignore the piercing stares as he continued walking.
He arrived at the office of one of the managers and gently tapped on the open door. The manager sitting at her desk looked up and let out a gasp of horror. This further annoyed the agent.
“Can I help you?” she stammered.
“Yeah, I’m just wondering when they’re going to replace the lights,” the agent replied.
“The lights are working fine,” the manager shot back.
“Really,” the agent responded. “Even the lights at the other side?”
“The lights are working fine,” the manager repeated. “I’m very busy and can’t talk to you right now.”
The agent let out a small laugh. “Some open door policy,” he chortled, pointing to a sign on the door that said NEED TO TALK? OUR DOOR IS ALWAYS OPEN!
“Are you finished or are you going to keep tracking slimy footprints all over the room?” the manager shouted.
The agent looked down at the floor and saw he had in fact left a trail of slimy footprints across the floor.
He nodded sympathetically and calmly replied, “I’m sorry I disturbed you.”
Suddenly the agent floated swiftly off the floor, flipped upside down and landed in a squatting position on the ceiling. Pausing briefly to glance at the horrified faces in the room, he grinned and began rolling along the ceiling back until he disappeared back in the Unilluminated Corner, leaving a trail of slime that dripped to the floor and a room full of screaming agents in its wake.
MJBDiver.com 