The Tower

• Sun Oct 9, 10:00 AM - 6:00 PM
• • RPG
• Michael Garcia
• Don't Rest Your Head
• Don't Loose Your Mind
• Mature. People are going to die...horribly.
• ()
• 8
• 1 of 4
• Created in sessoin

Description:

Sleep is elusive. Into the night, the digital clock makes its slow advance to 7:00am and you are helpless to watch. You keep telling yourself that it is the caffeine. You drink so much of it now to stay awake and productive, but you know its much more than that. Your life is broken. Like an over-throttled engine you are about to blow a piston and, when it does, everything will fly apart. Already, you are cracking, and worse, it’s becoming apparent. When you are in the cafeteria you can feel the eyes of your coworkers boring into you.

“Poor bastard’s lost it,” you can hear them murmur two tables away, “Any day now management is going to have to drop the axe.” And they are right: the end is coming soon.

Or so says the mad man that marches up and down the sidewalk outside your office building. The man with the eye patch (he always seems to look at you in particular when he spouts his dribble). Today he says,”They lie in wait, but tonight… Dear Lord” he pauses and his wild-eyed gaze becomes mournful,”… they come for you, and when they come Death will be in the wake.”

You can’t help but shutter because there is a growing part of you knows he’s right. The same part that told you there were monsters under your bed and in the closet when you where little. Once silenced at the end of childhood, it has come back screaming like a klaxon on a sinking ship. When you do sleep you wake terrified but not remembering anything but black pupil-less eyes and thumbtack filled grins. You dare not sleep because in the dark tides of dreams there be dragons.

So it is now 8pm on Friday and you have not slept all week. Mr. Fisk, your boss, demands that you stay these extra hours because the job needs to get done, no matter how tired you are. A thunderstorm rolls in and you wonder idly if you have to walk home in the pouring rain, but that would be a Godsend compared to this forsaken maze of cubicles and human misery.

Again you’ve fallen asleep at your desk
(TONIGHT I COME)
A crash of thunder has risen you from your slumber.
(YOU WILL BE TESTED.)
You go to the bathroom to splash water on you face while words echo in mind. (FAIL AND DEATH WILL ONLY BE THE BEGINNING OF YOUR SUFFERING.)
You wonder how you will get through this night.

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