Day 192 Writing Short Stories

Corporate

It was to be his first day in the office. He had gotten the job through his uncle’s friend, who had taken pity on him at one of his uncle’s famous parties. The man had said that a good lad like him should have a career on his way. That it was such a shame that his university degree would be wasted on him. The man had given him a business card and said to meet him there on Monday. He was making his way through the city to do just that. He wasn’t sure if it was actually a job, an interview, or something else. But it had been indicated that he should pack a lunch and dress for the job. What the job was was never told.

There was only the name of the building and the address. He was to work at Cobbolt and Sons. He had Googled the name. The research had come out empty except for the address on the card, which made him even more nervous. It was as if the company didn’t exist.

It took him two buses to get to the office building. It was hidden at the back of the Financial District, as if the whole thing were some shameful secret. It was an old building. One of those monumental ones they did in the Victorian era. The name, Cobbolt and Sons, was written in brass against the stony building. The sign shone dull against the cold morning sun.

He stepped onto the welcoming stone, and the earth seemed to move underneath him. He glanced around to see if anyone else had noticed the slight tremor, but there was no one on the street, which was odd. There were always people around in the city center.

He turned back to face the heavy wooden door with a brass doorknob. He wondered whether he should just yank the door open and step in or if he was meant to knock. The door looked like it needed to be knocked. So he did that. The wood underneath his knuckles moaned. Then it sighed, and the door opened inwards.

He frowned. There was no one inside. He stepped in, and the door slammed shut behind him. He was in an enormous lobby where everything was made of dark granite. Every surface was polished smooth.

“Hello,” he tried.

And like a magic spell, it produced an unpleasant-looking woman to greet him. She had a deep scowl on her face. She was dressed sharply in a blue dress suit.

“And who are you?”

“I’m Matthew Dent. I was meant to meet my uncle’s friend, Larry Cobbolt, here,” Matthew said.

She snarled. “Follow me, then, Mr. Dent.” She spun around on her heels and made him follow the steep stairs upstairs. The stairs stretched into eternity, as if there was an endless space between the floors. Then they suddenly stopped at a small blue wooden door that looked like something out of a cottage, not an office building.

“He will see you now,” the woman said and knocked on the door.

Matthew half-expected this door to moan and complain, too, but it was mute as doors should be. But it opened up on its own, like the front door had done.

The woman ushered him in and left him there alone. He was inside a huge library-like room. There were open old books, scrolls, and ladders everywhere, and a huge desk that looked like a ship abandoned amid all the scrolls. Against the backdrop of it all, there was a huge round window that let in soft natural light.

“Hello, it’s me, Mr. Cobbolt,” he tried.

There was a rustle, and his uncle’s friend rose behind all the tomes.

“Yes, yes, yes,” the man said. “Who is this me?” the older man squinted.

He felt his stomach go into a tight knot, and he swallowed hard. “We met at Uncle Dent’s party. I’m young Matthew,” he said.

“Young Matthew?!” The man scrubbed his beard. “Oh yes, young Matthew!” His eyes sparkled.

“Yes, yes, yes,” the man uttered again. “Put your things somewhere. We have a lot to do. All these books and scrolls need to go to the right places. It’s quite a mess, and I can’t find it. But you will have to do it. You will find it for me.” He smiled again. “Yes, yes, yes. It’s Monday.”

Matthew lowered his things next to the door. As he straightened himself up, he was sure the door winked at him. He shook his head and stepped closer to the desk. Larry trusted him the first tome, and there was an electric spark between them. He almost dropped the tome, but he held it despite the sharp pain.

All he got from the old man was a wide grin and utterances of yes.

This was not quite what he had pictured a corporate life to look like.

“What exactly do you do?” He swirled the tome in his hands. It was a book by Oliver Slow, The State of Modern Beasts and How to Tame Them.

“This and that.”

Nurse

This was a prompt about a nurse working for a grumpy doctor.

Marathon

This was a prompt about running a marathon.

The prompts are from the book A Year of Creative Writing Prompts.

I really wanted to write the last prompt, but I’m short on time. Or not actually short on time, but the sun is just dawning here, and I want to go out in the woods to welcome the new morning. So I leave my ruminations short. See you tomorrow! Thank you for reading! Have a wonderful day ❤