The October Series

October 8th: The Story that was Never Written

Being a woman is hard enough without being in a predominantly male profession. I'm an investigative journalist, or at least I was, before the incident. It's the 1950s and the only job women got in newspapers back then was the

secretary. The little, young miss who got coffee for the men while she waited for a wealthy young man to marry her. Not me, I wasn't built for that life. The only person who I believe truly respected me was the photographer that accompanied me everywhere. He was a quiet young fellow, he never really talked, but he was never disrespectful, never made stupid comments like,
"Oh, is it that time of the month?", whenever I lose my temper, which I do because I am quite hot-headed? I don't conform to the ideas of what a woman should be, at least I didn't, before this incident.
"What incident?", you may ask.

Well, I'll tell you.
A couple of years back I found this really interesting story about these murders in an old warehouse. What was interesting is that law enforcement and the government were trying to cover it up, and I for one was intrigued. I sat in the meeting room and brought it out. They laughed.
"Are you out of your goddamn mind?", they yelled.
"I think she can do it", the photographer silently mumbled. I smiled.
"You should marry this one", a co-worker yelled, "Then you won't have to work here anymore".

"I'm never getting married", I said. "Sure you're not", he chuckled.
"I'll solve this damn case and I'll prove I was right you imbeciles", I yelled.
And so, my journey began. The photographer and I decided to talk to the victim's families, we visited the outsides of the warehouse, but we couldn't go inside. Government property. We had leads and information, but we needed something to tie it all together. One late night, I visited the photographer.
"We need to sneak into that warehouse", I told him.
"What? Right now? Are you-"

"Crazy! Yes, I know, but I feel that there is something behind those sealed doors that will tell us all we need to know", I yelled.
"Alright", he said.
We snuck inside and were met with these monsters. They were all stuck in containers. They were this evil, slimy blobs with specks for eyes and large mouths with spiky teeth.
"These must be the killers", I exclaimed. He took pictures, we investigated. Turns out it wasn't a murderer, it was a monster. As we were heading out, we met with a government official.
"I'm going to need you to pretend like this didn't happen", he said to us.

"Not gonna happen", I smirked, "We have all the proof we need".
"Alright then", he said, and he pointed his gun at us, and killed us both.
There was a mishap, and we weren't sent to either Heaven or Hell. We're simply tortured souls roaming through space and time aimlessly, with no purpose. It's the worst feeling in the world. You want to die, but you're already dead, with nothing to do.