Copy Copy M!

Some say ghosts, I SEE ghosts. They are no rumor to I, nor to Eliot, although the latter is no longer with me. Or with us. But with them. HE IS NOW THEM! The door to a room rattles at times. I saw the secretary walk before it. It happened just after she walked by. She was so pretty too. His shadow caressed the door, and the door jumped. I heard a weak thud. And then again – stronger – it had leaped in its hinges. BUMP, POW, BAM!!! IT IS THEM!!!
And in the ocean of fear I swam, for fear of drowning in fear, I returned my eyes to my glowing screen in front of me. The numbers were plain. My cubicle was plain, but that door – and what lie behind…

This is the day the door opened for Eliot. BAM BAM BAM…like gunshots, only louder. Why did no one else pay any attention? They all passed right by the door, they all knew what was in there – not the ghosts, the other thing. And yet they were content to simply slide their shadows across its wooden face. “Copy Room1” said the little worn plaque. That was only the beginning, I knew – and Eliot, too. He must have heard the bumps, seen the door shake. He approached the room with such caution. Good job, Eliot, don’t let them catch you off guard… I peered over the top of my pc, he had his hand on the doorknob. He turned the doorknob. He pushed on the door, and it opened.

BAM! He slammed it shut behind him, and this time a few other heads did turn. “There goes Eliot” I heard one woman say, a few eyes were rolled, but not (MINE) mine. What lie behind that door, what lurked with that man, what devoured him whole… The others never got the whole story. They said it was a heart attack, but I know better – and Eliot did too. He was witness to the ghosts I knew were in there. And the M-

I hesitate to speak of it even now. A thing so foul, created for one purpose, yet used to serve another. I crinkled the pages in my hands the day I chose to venture there myself. When I gripped that doorknob, yes-it was cold- when I pushed on that door –yes, I had to push hard- sweat dripped off my brow. I took a deep breath and plunged into “Copy Room1”. The door slammed hard behind me, and I knew that probably drew a few eyes from the other side. Fresh meat is what I was to THEM, and that is what turned their eyes to me. Another victim, another sacrifice. I knew I was seeing exactly what Eliot had seen. The Copy M- lie before me. I could hear voices above me (THEM). They haunted the room with that M-….Machine. That thing which was created to copy (copy). That thing that was really used to kill (it was waiting to kill) used to kill for THEM. In a way they were that m- machine. They didn’t just haunt the same room it inhabited. They didn’t just haunt the machine itself, they were the machine. THE MACHINE… THE M-…THEM!!!

Strange as it sounds, it was like I had stepped into the past about four days. I saw Eliot there, hugging the machine. His hand had just dropped a quarter, or a dime (whatever the going rate was these days) into the little slot. His head was face down, blood dripping from his mouth onto the thing. The image disappeared (the image of Eliot) but the thing remained. The voices above me grew louder. By instinct I knew the door was locked, and I knew the voices were THEM. The ghosts that awaited my sacrifice (waited to kill). The entire room did a double take and at once I was in a scene from Polterguist, or the Exorcist or something. A strobe light flickered. Rock music vibrated the room, too much base and drums, and the copy (copy) M- was bouncing around, rocking from side to side. It put on it’s own lazer show, and started printing out copies. The first few pages seemed to be random words, but soon there were pictures. Eliot’s dead eyes…dead mouth, dead tongue, and the life giving blood smeared the pages. Then all the rest of the pages printed out as blood spatters. Then the paper stopped coming out, it was just blood. Real blood. Red blood. Eliot’s blood, soon to be MY blood (MINE). They ghosts were having a grand party here, I held my crinkled pages to my chest like a five year old carrying library books. I backed into the corner, but I didn’t close my eyes. The machine gradually slowed down. I clenched my paper. No, I thought, I wouldn’t let it copy my work (MINE) I could hold it all to myself, I could keep it. The voices above me took on vague forms. I actually saw them (THEM) and they were very familiar. Three guys and this one chick. They looked like a group that used to play…

I blacked out and can’t remember the rest. But I tell you I know they exist. I know the thing in that room is more than it seems, and for some reason it let me live. Every day I sit and peek over my pc. It is still waiting to kill me. Eliot had a fortunate life but I am tormented. He knew they were real. He knew IT was real. But he doesn’t have to live with that…and I do