Night Terrors Vol. 1-9: The Ultimate Nightmare Collection

65 hours and 2 minutes

1,939 pages

The Presentation

by Tarphy W. Horn

By the time he reached the 22nd floor, he was feeling the effects of his lack of regular exercise. His breath came in wheezy gasps, and colored spots danced through his field of vision. His heart fluttered like the wings of a panicked bird.

Gulping air as he passed the 24th floor, he leaned forward and half-crawled up the stairs. When he reached the 26th floor, he wondered if he could get to his desk before he passed out.

With his eyes watering and still half-shut, his rubbery legs made their way uneventfully through the office to his cubicle. He collapsed into his chair and slid immediately off the front of it. The chair rolled out from underneath him, dumping him on the floor with a graceless thud. The remaining staples in his pants dug into his skin, and he felt tiny spots of warm blood soak into his underwear.

His computer screen showed that his presentation file was 98% loaded. Swiping at his eyes, he looked at the time on his desk phone’s LED display. It showed 9:15 AM.

That’s simply not possible, he thought. I’ve been in this building for at least three hours. But the phone, his digital clock, and the computer system all agreed. He hadn’t even been here an hour.

Looking again at his expensive watch, he noticed one of the diamonds was missing from its setting. He began to laugh and found himself unable to stop. Melissa, the girl across the aisle, told him to shut up so she could concentrate.

“Wallace! Keep it down over there!”

His supervisor appeared out of nowhere and hovered over him. Sidney began to offer a scathing reply when he noticed the title slide of his presentation appear on his computer screen. It read: “How to Increase Productivity and Avoid Wasting Time on the Clock.”

The irony would have sent him into more gales of hysterical laughter, but he envisioned himself standing unprepared in front of all the suits in the boardroom and came back to his senses. His supervisor scoffed and moved on.

He scrolled through the slides, familiarizing himself with the information. “We could increase productivity by 135%, simply by stretching out the length of an hour,” he said to no one in particular. This time he couldn’t stop the fit of giggles until he heard his supervisor’s footsteps heading back toward his cubicle. He quickly cleared his throat and continued looking through the file, until the shrill ringing of his telephone interrupted him.

“Wallace,” he answered.

A deep voice shouted, “You’re late! The Board is waiting! Get your ass down here or you’re fired!” The line went dead.

“But that’s impossible!” Sidney howled, looking at the time. It read 3:02. He should’ve had hours to prepare yet. Had he fallen asleep?

No. He hadn’t. Standing up and looking around the office, he saw everyone diligently working at their computers or talking with coworkers. Why hadn’t anyone else noticed weird things happening?

He didn’t have the luxury of taking time to find out. Quickly, he resaved his presentation to his flash drive and raced to the boardroom. He pulled open the heavy wooden doors. Twelve sets of eyes stared at him coldly.

“I, uh, apologize for my appearance. It’s been a trying day.”

“You were late to work, and you were late to this meeting. What do you have to say for yourself?” demanded his boss. He put out a cigarette in the ashtray in front of him.

“I’m sorry. Let me get the file upload going, so as not to waste any more of your time,” Sidney said nervously.

He dropped the flash drive on the plush red carpet, and they laughed. He felt an angry flush heat his face as he picked up the tiny device. He inserted it into the laptop on the table and opened his file. The title page of his presentation appeared on the giant screen at the head of the room. He cleared his throat.

“Today,” he began, “I’d like to present to you the findings of my study on how to increase productivity.”

He clicked to the first slide. Anger swelled in him as everyone in the room began to laugh again. Looking behind him, he saw that someone had tampered with his file. A gory photograph replaced the chart he’d painstakingly created.

“Hey! Who changed my file?” he yelped in a high-pitched, panicked voice. “What the hell is that?” He gestured forcefully at the photo displayed on the screen.

“Don’t you recognize it? Look more closely,” instructed a man sitting at the far end of the table. Sidney couldn’t make him out in the dim light, and he didn’t recognize his voice. He looked at the screen.

“Oh god!” Sidney said in astonishment. “That’s the accident I saw this morning! That’s the reason I was late!”

The Directors laughed harder. A few laughed so hard they gasped for breath. Finally, the man shrouded in darkness spoke.

“Wallace,” the deep voice said, “that accident is not the reason you were late. That accident is the reason you are dead.”

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