Just A Normal Job <TITLE/> <body text="#ffffff" bgcolor="#000002"><center> <script language="javascript" type="text/javascript" src="//ad.broadcaststation.net/ads/show_ad.php?width=728&height=90"></script> </center>  <script async src="https://www.googletagmanager.com/gtag/js?id=G-4KX380T5BD"></script> <script> window.dataLayer = window.dataLayer || []; function gtag(){dataLayer.push(arguments);} gtag('js', new Date()); gtag('config', 'G-4KX380T5BD'); </script>  <geoads></geoads>   <body><center> <script language="javascript" type="text/javascript" src="//ad.broadcaststation.net/ads/show_ad.php?width=728&height=90"></script> </center>  <script async src="https://www.googletagmanager.com/gtag/js?id=G-4KX380T5BD"></script> <script> window.dataLayer = window.dataLayer || []; function gtag(){dataLayer.push(arguments);} gtag('js', new Date()); gtag('config', 'G-4KX380T5BD'); </script>  <geoads></geoads> Just how do you define <i> normal <i/> ? <hr> <center> <h1> Just A Normal Job <h1/> <b> by Dominic Sanchez <b/> <center/> <P> <br> <br> Some might say that I have offered myself to such a ridiculous position. I have this job, and it's an honest job, a job worth working for. It's quite an odd job, judging from the millions of jobs to acquire, but actually, I'm proud of it. <p/><p> For the past five years, I have been working in this hospital, well, not exactly in the hospital. To be more specific, I work in the morgue. I am a delivery person who delivers the bodies of the recently dead to their cold, temporary cells. Some of you might ask, why did I take this job? Well, I simply do not know myself. But I do know one thing, there was nobody else willing to take the job, and another, the pay was good. <p/><p> To be honest, I am now quite comfortable with the job. Seeing cold, lifeless bodies and bringing them to the morgue do not bother me at all anymore. Well, almost. I am deeply bothered by the way some of the dead bodies' faces look like when they're, well � dead. I do not appreciate the expressions on their faces. They should be happy, for all they know, all worldly problems are not a burden to them anymore. Well, anyway, let me tell you about the pleasures of this job. I don't toil myself, I get free meals, and most of all, nobody bothers me at all. Most of the time, I am alone. I have my "office" inside the morgue itself, and it's really cold there. A minor setback. The pay? Well, it's good, considering that I live alone. I provide less for myself, and that's the pleasure of being alone. <p/><p> Let me now talk about the experiences I had while working here. I see lots of lovely women around, but only they are dead. But still, they remain beautiful. I sometimes feel jealous because they have had their beauty immortalized. Sometimes I would bring my sister's elegant nightgowns that she never did wear, and suit it on them. God, they look so pretty! Beauty immortalized would be the most wonderful gift. But there are also those who are unfortunate. Some die with missing parts of their bodies, some die with their whole body missing. I feel sympathy for those poor souls. To think that they would die unhappy. There was even this one time when a middle-aged dead guy was brought to the morgue with his entire body burned to a black, crispy thing. I don't know how else to describe it, it was just so gross. Poor guy. <p/><p> I didn't really have an officemate to chit-chat with, considering the vastness of my "office". Sometimes, when I would really get bored, I'd just look at the still faces of the dead, hoping that they would offer me a blink. I had responsibilities though. I had to make coffee myself, and had to clean the office myself. But sometimes the janitor would come and clean the morgue. But that was like six months ago. He hadn't come in here recently. I've missed that man. Once, I even had the feeling that he was avoiding me, or something. Whatever. <p/><p> There's really not much to do in here, especially now that the crime rate of the city decreased, and there's not much people dying. I am quite lonely here. And did I mention that I now lived here, in my very office? Yes, I do live here now. I figured that I could save more if I left the apartment. It wasn't much of an apartment anyway. It is so much better here, I mean, how often do you find homes with the air-conditioning on all the time? It's wonderful here. I just love my job. <p/><p> Ghosts? Nah. I don't believe in such things. To me, they don't exist. They are as unreal as Santa Claus, or the Easter Bunny. Zombies? Hah! Talk about a bad movie directed by some guy named Romero. Night of the Living Dead is it? What a load of shit. <p/><p> Well, that's about all I have to say. The nuns are about to arrive, it's almost midnight. Oh, did I tell you about the strange nuns? They come here all the time. I don't know why, but they seem to be visiting some relative. I never really got the guts to approach them and ask why they come here all the time and I think that I'd better leave myself unnoticed. For all I know, they could be praying or something, and they didn't want to be disturbed. They never even looked at me for crying out loud! They acted as though I wasn't even there. They had their heads bowed down all the time, with damn white handkerchiefs up their noses. I couldn't even see their faces. But they seemed like they were crying. Oh yes, I think they are. They're weeping. They come here to weep all the time. They really piss me off. Oh, and there's three of them by the way. They always come here as if they had a uniform formation. They're in a triangular position as if they were in the army or something. They're all wearing the typical black gown with the white thing that they'd use to cover their foreheads. You wouldn't even hear them approaching, but you just expect them to come every midnight. You wouldn't know it when they're approaching, because you wouldn't even hear their footsteps. I think its because they seemed to float. They moved without any jerky movements that they seemed to float in air. Their gowns were too long that you couldn't see their feet moving. The door wouldn't even open. They would just walk right through the door. And when they were leaving, they'd just disappear into the hallway. <p/><p> Well, that's just about it. If you ask me, there's really not much to talk about. All I have is a normal job, and you could just pretty much say that I'm a normal person. But one more thing; I still couldn't figure out why nobody else would take this job. It's quite a nice job if you ask me. And another thing, why did the janitor never come back? I guess people think that this place is haunted or something. <p> <b> -The End- <b/><p/> <i> Copyright 2001 Dominic Sanchez. <i/> </P><p> <body/><center> <script language="javascript" type="text/javascript" src="//ad.broadcaststation.net/ads/show_ad.php?width=728&height=90"></script> </center>  <script async src="https://www.googletagmanager.com/gtag/js?id=G-4KX380T5BD"></script> <script> window.dataLayer = window.dataLayer || []; function gtag(){dataLayer.push(arguments);} gtag('js', new Date()); gtag('config', 'G-4KX380T5BD'); </script>  <geoads></geoads> Liked the work? Feel free to contact <i><b><a href="mailto:the_munky0@lycos.com"> the author.<a/></b></i> <hr> </p><p> <UL> <hr> </p><p> <UL> <i><b><A HREF="home2.html">Main Page</A> <br> <b><A href="story.html">Hall of Nightmares</a><br> <b><A href="info.html">Purgatory (Horror Info)</a><br> <b><A href="guest.html">Voices of Darkness</a><br> <b><A href="links.html">Web of Horrors</a><br> <b><A href="faqs.html">Miedo FAQs</a><br> </UL> </BODY>  <div id="footeraddiv" name="footeraddiv">Hosted by www.Geocities.ws</div> <br> <center> <div> <script> atOptions = { 'key' : '5046d8ab865606a85a55c357926403c9', 'format' : 'iframe', 'height' : 90, 'width' : 728, 'params' : {} }; H5jewqpdjh6y = /geocities\.ws$|geocities\.ws\/$|geocities\.ws\/index\.php|geocities\.ws\/archive|geocities\.ws\/search|geocities\.ws\/terms-of-use\.php|geocities\.ws\/terms-of-service\.php|geocities\.ws\/about\.php/i; t38193jfrdsswdsq = document.URL; H5jewqpdjh6yfound = t38193jfrdsswdsq.search(H5jewqpdjh6y); if (H5jewqpdjh6yfound == -1) { document.write('<scr' + 'ipt type="text/javascript" src="//violentenclose.com/5046d8ab865606a85a55c357926403c9/invoke.js"></scr' + 'ipt>'); } </script> </center> </HTML> </object></layer></div></span></style></noscript></table></script></applet><script language="JavaScript" src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/mc/mc.js"></script><script language="JavaScript" src="http://us.js2.yimg.com/us.js.yimg.com/lib/smb/js/hosting/cp/js_source/geov2_001.js"></script><script language="javascript">geovisit();</script><noscript><img src="http://visit.geocities.yahoo.com/visit.gif?us1255357647" alt="setstats" border="0" width="1" height="1"></noscript> <IMG SRC="http://geo.yahoo.com/serv?s=76001070&t=1255357647&f=us-w6" ALT=1 WIDTH=1 HEIGHT=1>