Etched

Chapter 6

I woke up to the sound of my alarm, grumbling and mumbling in annoyance to show the world how sleepy I was. My nightmares had as usual followed their trend and kept me awake for most part of the night but then when I finally did fall asleep, the freaking alarm started ringing. Dumpster day already.

I ask why, why do you have to wake up so early?

It's been three weeks since I'd started working as an intern for 'The White GOI', hence I can easily come to a conclusion that I'm insanely in love with my job. It's the adequate amount of work I'm capable of performing. Nothing extreme to overpower my skills and nothing less to excuse my capabilities. It's just the appropriate strength of tasks which my mind and body can react positively and attentively to.

You must be wondering how am I still alive and breathing after all the trouble I'd invited weeks back after messing up with angry bird? Well, I think, scratch that, I believe that he hasn't figured out who was responsible for the little mishap he had experienced. Otherwise, I wouldn't have minded being buried six foot down in my hometown.

Yes! you got it right. I'm scared, scared of angry bird. Scared for my life, ever since a very fateful day that I happened to observe, I'd witnessed the angriest version of him, exhibited by himself that showed me the type of a person he truly is and could be, especially when he's enraged. I am terrified, to say the least.

The other day when we were at the office, I happened to be at the ground floor picking files at the photocopier. Everything was going normal until I saw him yell and frighten the living day lights of guards alloted outside our office building. They was huddled in a semi-circle, with their heads bowed.

They obviously must've done something to be the recipient of his wrath, but, his outburst made all the guards -even the intimidating ones - to be on the verge of wetting their pants. Even I -who was standing far from him behind the cubicle wall- was shaking in fear.

He had this commanding, domineering aura as though he knew who he was, what power he executed and no one could prove him to be otherwise. His gaze stern as if he was challenging someone to oppose. To talk back. To defend themselves. His posture stiffer than usual in confidence and exasperation.

The usual eerie silence that he brought with his presence was more deeper and vivid. Everyone looked too surprised to say anything about the scene unfurling in front of them that they couldn't even bother trying to step up for the guards

It makes me wonder what kind of a person Mr. White would really be like. How weird it would be that it doesn't matter to him that a manager, who practically is his emloyee has taken responsibility in himself to scare the poop out of the people, the entire office staff. An employee who is using his power to order around. Terrifying people just at the thought of his presence. If the employees in this company can be this scary and daunting, assume how the employer would be. I shivered in thought.

The employer, Mr. White, who people secretly call the devil spawn is infamous for his bloodcurdling reputation. I haven't met him yet nor am I interested in meeting him anytime soon, but his reputation is widespread. Regardless of what is people say, it would ever mean that I wouldn't sneak a glance at him if somehow stuck in the same vicinity as him.

Anyway, getting back to the topic in hand, Angry bird. The day the guards were getting scolded, noone might've missed the pale faces of the security and the frozen confidence of the man at the receiving end. He was fired instantly by the one and only Angry bird but the remainder of the staff kept shuddering till the very end of the day.

Even I, who had strangely tortured him in many ways had no guts to see him, especially and precisely that day. But other than that whenever we had encounters which was when either he was entering or leaving or I was going somewhere. There always was a sort of a detailed eye contact which invoked strange tingles in me. I kept passing him smiles and if in a good mood even waved at him, the gestures he never reciprocated. Not that they ever were expected to be, but anyway...