"There was an iciness, a sinking, a sickening of the heart—an unredeemed dreariness of thought which no goading of the imagination could torture into aught of the sublime."
Edgar Allan Poe, The Fall of the House of Usher.
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Have you ever felt like something was terribly wrong? A sinking feeling that twisted your gut — like animals before a natural calamity strikes. Lizards and snakes grow restless, birds flock away en masse, creatures from the depths surface to herald the coming disaster.
But even so, as an ordinary worker, life goes on. The same old repetitive routine most people would eventually grow sick of. I guess it's not that bad.
With my senses screaming at me to do something — anything — I decided to just ignore it and get up quickly.
I opened my tired eyes and marched toward the bathroom sink, doing my best not to be defeated by the warmth and comfort of my bed. Having a boss fight first thing in the morning is truly a draining experience, I must say.
At the sink, I let the water run, the noise helping me gather my thoughts. Washing my face, I didn't even seem to notice the deep, dark circles under my eyes — or rather, I chose to ignore them. Maybe I'd just gotten used to it.
After putting on my suffocating office outfit, I drank a glass of sweetened milk and ate some of that famous cereal — rainbow loops. Why do they add so much sugar to it?
Once I finished breakfast, I reluctantly brushed my teeth while checking how long it would take for the next bus to arrive.
Four minutes!? - 'This will be a close call!' - I thought as I rushed out so I wouldn't miss it. The good news? I made it just in the nick of time! The bad news? Well... where do I even start?
Not only was the bus so packed it reminded me of those Indian train videos I'd seen before — I swear I saw a fat middle-aged uncle looking longingly at the driver's lap, as if seriously considering just going for it. And I'm not gonna lie, after thinking it through, even I got a little tempted. The driver had quite a bit of free space. Too bad I'm so shy… count yourself lucky, driver. But the worst of it all had to be the smell.
God. How could something smell that bad? It was a strange, and very unholy, mix of rotten eggs and vinegar. The driver's lap looked more attractive by the second, as his head stayed suspiciously close to his open side window. Is driving with that posture even safe?
Anyways, as if to make matters worse, the driver handled the bus like it was a bumper car. Each turn felt like an Olympic event, every stop a new surprise attack. A kid's juice box went flying, someone's phone slid across the aisle, I even heard some old lady in the back mutter something about brakes only being optional back in her days. I could only pray he wouldn't take the next corner quite so enthusiastically.
After finally managing to get off that wheeled security hazard, I had to resist the urge of falling on my knees and kiss the solid ground beneath my feet.
Then I was off to work, a quick visit to the bathroom in order to fix myself up, and I was once more good to go. At my desk, I turned my company laptop on and logged in, starting my daily routine as an IT tech support slave.
Or at least that was how things were supposed to be. But not anymore. Before I could even do a single thing, I got interrupted by my boss, calling me into his office. I could only sigh helplessly at what was to come... another ass-whipping? Great! What a way to start the morning.
Before long, I arrived at his office. He was an old, heavyset man — but we liked to call him a pretentious bastard — wearing an overworked suit whose buttons were fighting for their lives to keep everything from falling apart, a pyrrhic victory, I must say. Every inch of him seemed squeezed: the collar biting into his neck, the waistband waging a losing war. His face wore a frown so constant it might as well have been carved there.
He sat in his overwhelmed chair, drumming his fat, oily fingers on an old — and probably very expensive — mahogany table. Before him stood Karen, a middle-aged blonde woman we affectionately referred to as "the heartless witch," with her squinty eyes and a big fake smile stretched across her face. She also just so happened to be the HR manager.
My stomach dropped even further, the sensation like thousands of worms crawling all over my body and under my skin. Something was wrong. My instincts screamed at me — those two assholes together in one room could only mean bad news.
I tried to think positively. Maybe I was overthinking it. Maybe it was just a coincidence. Yeah, that was it! He must have just finished talking to her about something unrelated! I tried to convince myself not to worry, but all my hopes were dashed in the next moment. I guess I'd taken a bit too much copium.
They both stopped whatever they were doing and took their sweet time looking me up and down. I could see the barely hidden disdain in my boss's eyes, along with a sickening smirk that somehow made Karen's face even uglier. She looked oddly punchable right now, but I wasn't about to let my instincts take control.
Mr. Pemberton — my boss — finally broke the awkward, oppressive silence, speaking in a condescending tone.
"Mr. Everett, please take a seat." - He started, motioning toward the empty chair beside Karen.
"We need to have a little chat that's long overdue. I like to think of this company as a place that gives people chances — more than a few, in fact." Those words confirmed the bad feeling I'd had.
"But eventually, you have to look at the numbers. And when you look at the numbers, you have to be honest with yourself, don't you?" He made these dramatic hand gestures that looked kind of funny — like a pig trying to act human — followed by a long pause. I could only stare at him, dumbfounded, barely believing what I'd just heard.
"After a very careful, very thorough review… we just don't see the value proposition anymore. The potential simply hasn't translated into tangible results. We don't think there's a place for you here anymore. I'm sorry it's come to this, but today will be your last day. This is a business, after all, and we have to do what's best for the business." - The shocking words made my mind go blank.
"Mrs. Wilmore will now help you through the process and make sure everything is done according to protocol," - He finished, though his words didn't even register.
Everything after that felt like a blur. By the time I came back to my senses, I was already out on the street, waiting for the bus home.
'Good thing there aren't many people heading back this early in the morning.' - I thought, trying to see some bright side in this fucked-up situation. In my hands was an orange plastic bag — they'd taken back the company-issued one I'd been using, even if it was already battered and worn down from use. Cheap bastards…
"Huh? Was it this misty earlier in the morning?" After calming down a bit, I couldn't help noticing the thick mist covering everything in sight.
For some reason, my heart grew even more unsettled. Was it just because I'd been laid off? Yeah, that had to be it.
As I scrolled through my phone, I started seeing news reports about strange weather phenomena worldwide.
Aside from the sudden thick mist, there were reports of all sorts of other bizarre happenings — torrential downpours across deserts, freezing blizzards in places that had never seen snow before, some kids were having the time of their lives though.
As much as I wanted to ignore the obvious and drown in my own sorrow, something was wrong. Seriously wrong. I could feel it in my blood, like my entire being was screaming at me.
What was going on with the world? And what does this feeling even want me to do? Even if the world does come to an early end I ain't playing no hero.
There will be no heroic sacrifices on my part! Have you ever seen a hero have a good ending? Be grateful if the common folk don't end up messing your life up for some stupid reason.
Furthermore what could I even possibly do? I'm just your regular, everyday, normal motherfucker, be grateful if I don't kick you while you are down! That already counts as me being a good person. Any more than that? I expect the payment upfront!
While lost within my thoughts and idle musings, I almost didn't notice when I was already back in my neighborhood.
Still in a daze, I walked the rest of the way home, surrounded by the cold, suffocating mist that seemed to chill even the depths of my soul.
One step at a time. At long last, I was home.
The house had a charming, lived-in feel, but it was starting to show its age. The pale blue paint peeled around the window frames and door, revealing patches of weathered wood.
The path leading to the front door wound through a once-loved garden now overrun by patches of wild grass. The rose bushes grew in tangled, unpruned mounds — their flowers sparse but stubborn. The grass was shaggy, dotted with wild dandelions, like a proclamation of rebellion straight from Mother Nature herself.
Waking from my daze, I looked at the rundown scenery and couldn't control the bitter smile creeping up my face, tinged with sorrow. I took a deep breath, walked through the garden, and opened the front door.
Inside, I made my way to the bathroom, leaving my clothes scattered along the way. I could really use the warmth of a hot shower right about now.
It was a long shower — much longer than I usually allowed myself. I've got to say, there's nothing like a hot shower to help you sort out messy thoughts.
After washing up, I decided to let the bathtub fill as well. I deserved a nice bath for once. Maybe it would help the unease go away too.
And so, I did everything I wanted to — bathing, reading some books, even a bit of gaming. I decided to think about the future tomorrow. Today, I just needed to unwind.
But even after I relaxed, the unease wouldn't leave me, and I couldn't help wondering why.
There seemed to be more to it — some feeling I couldn't quite figure out.
It felt like fear, but deeper, more primal… instinctive.
Despair. Like knowing something terrible was bound to happen, but being powerless to stop it. As if all forms of resistance were just meaningless efforts to delay the inevitable.
'Well, I tried. There's just one thing left to do!' - I thought, deciding to ignore the feeling and instead grab one of my favorite little big-boy toys.
Would you look at that — 120 centimeters of pure stainless-steel beauty, sharp as a razor, with lion and dragon engravings all around.
A man's romance — the longsword! Just holding it was enough to feel its power. It did wonders for my confidence.
I drew part of it from the expensive-looking scabbard before sliding it back in. Yeah, no, I wasn't about to use it. Too dangerous for practice. Let's settle for the wooden replica for now.
Then, with the real sword secured to my waist — because it looked cool, obviously — I headed to the backyard, where an open patch of solid dirt waited. Standing there, amidst the ever-present mist, I began practicing sword forms I'd learned from some manuals I'd found online, swinging at a mannequin I'd set up when I first picked up the hobby.
Jokes on you — it worked. The unease mostly vanished, so I just kept on training.
Doing a workout like that helped. I could feel my mind sharpening; my thoughts were clearer. Feeling the sweat trace down my body, controlling my breathing, watching the sword's path, withstanding the counterforce of each strike — it was intoxicating.
Before I realized it, hours had passed. I raised a hand to wipe away the sweat from my temple and looked up at the rising moon, almost hidden behind thickening layers of mist.
"Shit... Guess it's time to stop." - I mumbled, feeling the rasp in my dry throat and the protest of my empty stomach. I must've gotten too absorbed in playing around with the sword — I hadn't eaten or drunk anything since breakfast.
I went inside, walked to the kitchen, grabbed a big bottle of cold water, and downed it all in one go, then I gasped for air while I made myself some quick high-protein snacks.
After eating my fill, I took another shower and put on some comfortable baggy clothes before browsing the internet — trying not to start doomscrolling. A failed endeavor, I must say.