The voice booms again, and I nearly drop the mop in shock. “I… said… HANDS OFF!”
Most people would run. But I’m not most people and felt a little brave. Steeling myself, I clench the mop harder and brandish it like a sword.
“Listen, I don’t know what kind ofAnnabelle-haunted-trash bullshit is happening here, but Iwillstart swinging.” I threaten, trying to make my voice as confident, deep and intimidating as possible.
Silence.
For a split second, I believe I am imagining things. The fluorescent lights even work normally again. Then, just as I convince myself the voices aren’t real, the fluorescent lights shut off, and I’m plunged back to the scarily dim green exit light. The bin does a slow, deliberate movement; the lid creaks open, lifting like a clamshell. A mixture of smells floods my nostrils and then–a hand emerges, like some sort of zombie hand breaking soil out of a grave for the first time. The supernatural world being public had been great and all—I’m not aNuller, anti-supernatural, but zombies in my bin is not what I signed up for!
My entire body jerks backward so fast, I trip over the wheels of my cart, crumpling down to the floor. A bottle of disinfectant also clatters down with me.
I shift up, and my eyes widen with shock as something crawls out of it.
The pale, slightly grimy hand reaches for the rim. Fingers grip around the edge, and then, it’s no longer just a hand–a figure pulls itself up from inside the bin.
I see his eyes first. Sharp, amber-coloured, and glowing faintly in the dim green light. He has dark seaweed-coloured hair and is wearing a jacket that definitely looks like it’s seenbetter days. What gets me is his skin–it’s slightly see-through, glowing a green so subtle I thought it had been the exit sign reflecting off him. And I can’t tell if he’s slick with sweat or whatever juice that pools at the bottom of this bin, but something’s dripping off the bits of skin I can see.
The next thing is the smirk; lazy and unimpressed. Like he had just sprung me sniffing the rubbish bin.
The man leans against the bin’s inner rim–the angle looks impossible without tilting the bin over from the weight, but he makes it look like the most natural thing in the world. His fingers drum against the plastic rim. Is it from impatience? But what would he be impatient for?
“Weeeeell?” he says. “You gonna scream like everyone else, or can we move past the whole ‘Oh no, a talking trash ghost!’ bit?”
I don’t scream. I just keep holding my mop like it’s the only thing keeping me grounded and say the only thing that makes any sense.
“…What thefuck?”
Chapter 2–The Garbage Man Cometh
Istare at the glowing man, this thing, as he crawls out of the bin. His hands are on the floor, and his legs slink out from the bin. He stands up only to sit back down on the bin lid; one leg crossed over the other.
I brandish the mop and hold my ground. The man looks between me and it. His eyes then fall on me, and he gives me a look as ifI’mthe weird one in this situation.
“Alright,” I say, heart thundering through my ears. “I’m going to repeat my last question.What the actual fuck?”
He tilts his head, and he has a look on his face like he’s thinking. He’s considering something, but what?
“Would you like the short answer or the long one?”
“Short.” I respond way too fast without even considering what the short could be.
“I live here.” He gestures at the bin under him and smirks. “Next question.”
I blink.
“Youlive–OK, no, that’s not–” I push up my glasses and pinch the bridge of my nose, exhaling through my teeth. “Whatare you?”
Another smirk. “WhatdoI look like?”
A homeless contortionist… I wanted to say. But I know not to judge someone based on their looks. Even if he is a ghost in a bin from god only knows what decade.
So instead of looking him dead in the eyes, I offer him the only thing I can think to say. “A fucking problem.”
He lets out a low, amused hum, and then a chuckle. “That’s unfair.”
I look to him, and the emergency exit off to the side.I should leave.
This is obviously an overworked, exhaustion-induced hallucination. Maybe I had slipped in a puddle and bumped my head, and knowing my luck it was cleaning fluid and I’m currently unconsciously inhaling the fumes. Decaying. My brain finally melted. Maybe all of this is a dream.
