Day 144

The term "graveyard shift" comes from the age where
death was an uncertainty.
As most people have heard, bells on ropes were attached
to the deceased in case they were alive.
Even today there are tales of the mistakenly dead.

I used to work a late shift at the local funeral home.
Lots of dead bodies to sort out and not a lot of conversation.
As you can imagine, closing down time was a relief after
six hours of embalming, setting the face and such.

The manager decided to put bells on our clients' wrists for a laugh.
We freaked him out yesterday by attaching one of the bells to the
resident cat and putting catnip in the manager's jacket.
I've never heard a man scream so loudly before!
When the thrill wore off we got rid of the bells altogether, wasn't
much sense in testing for life when their organs had been drained already.

Lately though, I keep hearing those bells we used.
None of the clients have them on anymore, the cat's clean and none of
the others are hearing it.
Its a little disconcerting, especially at closing time.

We're one of those places that closes at 9PM instead of 6PM, we'd close
sooner but prepping a body takes a lot of work - especially with the
grieving families asking how its going every hour or so.
I'll admit I'm starting to get used to hearing the bells, even fond of them.
Just wish I could find where they're coming from.

I've checked every client here at least twice.
No bells but the ringing is louder than ever.
Its almost rhythmic.
Seems to be coming from the staff room.
Must be a workmate trying to mess with me.


There was a client in the staffroom.
How could he be there?
I locked him up for the night.
Dead-bolted the door, checked to make sure he was still out.
He couldn't be awake.
And yet, there he was: picking at his abdominal stitches and looking
around the room.

I quit my job after that.
Still hearing the bells though.