Creeptober Horror Spree: Volume One

Rose Vine Community

I work in the security shack at a 55+ community. Peace of mind costs forty an hour, apparently, and you won't hear me complaining about that. I am a glorified gatekeeper. All I do is let any car with a resident placard through and ask cars without the placard why they're here. I have read twelve books since starting. I can't say I had any idea why the hell this job pays so much for so little, but, as I said, you won't hear me complaining. The cynic in me often wondered what the catch was. I am reaching my one year mark of employment, and I can say the catch is worth it. I can't fathom why anyone would leave this position, though I've come to find that the guards before me couldn't handle it because they didn't follow the rules.

Rose Vine Community is not typical. It is technically possible to die doing my job, but again, not if you follow the rules. It was shitty of my employers to act like this was a typical job, I admit. I had to learn how things work here from friendly residents.

The four major ones are as follows:

Every tenth Wednesday, a scowling elderly man will drive up to the gate in an ugly, beat-up Lincoln Diplomat. He won't have a placard. Don't ask him why he's here. Just let him in. My station is the only way in or out, and I've never seen him leave, but how he sneaks out is not my business. Don't make eye contact with him, either. Just let him in.

The decorative fountain in the center of the roundabout flows backward every sixth day of every third month. By this, I mean the cute little cherubs eternally dumping water out of jugs appear to be sucking water up into their vessels on these days. Nobody knows why this happens, but never, ever throw a coin in when it does. I don't know what happens if you do, and I don't intend to find out. Also, every fourteen years, in the first week of winter, the cherubs cry blood. I have not worked here long enough to confirm that, but I'm told that it's best to pretend the fountain does not exist during that time.

Building 17 doesn't exist. It's there, you can see it, you can walk through the door, but it doesn't exist. It's hard to explain what this means, but it is a wise decision to let sleeping dogs lie here. Never investigate any strange sounds that come from Building 17, and never walk past the lobby.

If you hear a woman screaming for help, check the clock first. If it's 3:42 AM, stay in the guard shack. Draw the blinds, put on headphones, do whatever you must to keep your instincts from taking over. Under no circumstances should you set foot outside the shack if she is still screaming for help. Wait until it has been silent for fifteen minutes before exiting, just to be safest.

A million tiny things relevant to be aware of, but the main four rules are how you stay alive and on the planet. The guard before me, no one can remember. Their face, their name, nothing. As far as my employers are concerned, there was no guard between George and myself - even though George retired fifteen years ago. However, the Residents of Rose Vine are adamant that there has never been a lapse in security. So someone had to be manning the shack at night before me. My theory is that they got too damn close to the jacuzzi near the tennis court. I've seen things fall into it and just disappear. At least, I think I have. My vision gets blurry if I stare at it too long. Come to think of it, there isn't a jacuzzi near the tennis court. My bad.

There's a stray cat everyone loves named Walter on the grounds. If his shadow stretches more than five feet behind him, don't give him food. If you ever see Walter, then see him again in an inexplicable location, immediately turn around and go back home. Close your blinds, lock your doors, and don't leave for exactly five hours and ten minutes. Great cat, though. He likes to sit in my lap while I read.

The longer you work here, the easier it gets. I'm confident I could train someone should my employer need more hands, but our small team is going strong as far as I can tell. I run the night shift during the week, Jennifer runs the day shift and Devon and Nate on the weekends. I swear we had one other guy, a patrol guard, but I must have imagined it. Hey, did you know there's a jacuzzi near the tennis court?

Weird, since they're usually next to the pools.