The meet at the swings

Samuel stops cold. He stares, as the words draw themselves. Primal shivers race up his spine. He is watching the glass of the entry door. It is covered with a slight condensation this early morning . It has just given him a warning.

Furthermore, it had done so in a deliberate and personal way. As he feels the goose pimples break out over his entire body, he asks himself the next obvious question. What was it? He is still standing and staring at the entry doors. Now he doesn’t want to go to work.

The Meet

Not only is he not feeling it, but also he is feeling a little terrified at the moment. He takes a step back, his positive feelings from the brisk morning walk, fading quickly. Staring at the words on the glass, is causing him to feel disoriented. Leave now.

Clamping his eyes shut, he turns away from the entrance of the building. Similarly, he fights an urge to run, and very nearly gives in. Then decides to remain calm, and, he steps a few paces away. Therefore, his eyes are tightly shut when he hears a voice close by.

“You okay mister?”

Samuel opens his eyes. The young kid is at the corner, looking at Samuel. Samuel briefs a quick thumbs up, and turns back to the doors of the swingset factory. He has to get over this, or he might as well quit the factory today.

The Swings

Deciding his imagination is to blame, he walks boldly to the entrance. The condensation on the glass is undisturbed. Now he feels foolish and late. He decides that is enough imagination for today. He enters the swingset factory for what would become the last time.

For the rest of the morning Samuel keeps his mind on the work at hand. Moreover, it was largely uneventful. There were some stares, and a joke or two about the previous day’s event. However Samuel isn’t feeling as cavalier about things as his coworkers appear to be.

Indeed, he is still shaken from this morning’s encounter. Furthermore, he has not spoken of it to anyone in the factory. For one thing, he didn’t want to be a laughingstock again today. “Leave now“ had been the warning. Although, ‘warning‘ might be inaccurate, considering he was here now.

Meet at the Swings

He wonders if this is a big initiation ritual. Similarly, he knows other places have initiation practices with new hires. Was he on the butt end of something like that? If that were true, what was with the ghost writing on the glass this morning? That was not a simple joke. Furthermore, he had felt that in a primal way.

After lunch he stops at the restroom. Not only is he ready to finish this day, but also to regain some normalcy. The water in the sink is warm as he washes his hands, but that isn’t what breaks his mind that afternoon.

It’s the ghost writing in the mirror, right in front of his eyes. A simple message that freezes the blood in his veins-

“Meet me at the swings”