Collection of Short Stories

It is a small collection of short stories.


6. Shadows

The spire of St. Richard's church pointed its way to the heavens as the first snow of Christmas fell. Its ten bells rang out in sequence with much disgust of a single man alone in his flat in the old industrial neighbourhood, grumbling now at the bells as they changed to a different sequence. The car or the motorway roared along the bright white lines with the driver enjoying the speed of his Lamborghini. It zoomed like a cheetah, its bright yellow paintwork streaming like a beam of sunlight. Malcolm Baxter grinned as the traffic dissolved in front of him. The car roared around the corner on two wheels almost turning the car over. Mal who liked to be called that, dropped his smile as his workplace came into view. GaMz was a 24 hour high tech firm that produced the best games in the world. He was the CEO and he enjoyed the fruits of the company. The car was just a bit of a bonus he had last year. "Stupid snow!" he exclaimed getting out of his car and stepping into three inches. His feet began to freeze as the temperature dropped. Quickly he entered the huge high tech building, full of glass and flat screened computers and terabytes of memory. Mal punched his password into the lonely number crunching machine on the wall. A green light flashed and the door clicked open. He looked at his watch and read 'six o'clock.' He sighed. "Another night shift!" he moaned as the door closed behind him. He reluctantly climbed the carpeted stairs and entered the computer room with all the screens blank and dark and looking like plastic Neolithic monoliths on a table top henge. Malcolm walked over to his machine and clicked the button of the hard drive that lay on the floor. The sc'een burst into life with a simulation of a rolling bar as the machine powered u d and data fed through the drive. Suddenly he glanced at the window and the swirling blizzard outside. He looked through the window in dismay as his beloved Lamborghini looked like a giant snow shoe. He turned to see a small rectangular box on screen prompting him. He sat down with a 'why me' expression. He typed his username then password. "The computer is installing your settings," it said. Malcolm moaned. It did that every day. The machine flickered like it understood him. "You're a machine, what do you know!" protested Malcolm as the screen with his work finally came on. Malcolm worked through the night with his Word documents, and Excel plus a touch of Powerpoint thrown in. Suddenly a cold shiver went down his spine. He left his desk and went to the coffee machine. The computer screen changed to a broad smile. Malcolm sat at his automaton of the twenty-first century. "What do I know!" said the machine slowly in a dark synthetic voice that came from the stereo speakers. “This!” it said. Mal’s mouth fell to the ground as this mechanism began to drain the life force from its new victim. Streams of energy fell into the screen like multi-coloured energy strings. Malcolm screamed in terror as he began to fade from reality. Suddenly the office was empty except for a ghostly shape like a shadow to haunt for all eternity.       The End.

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