Tower Block

Philip returns to an office block to urgently pick up something he'd left from a previous visit, but mysterious things gets in his way.

It wasn't quite as he remembered it.

The building was in the same place - on the corner of a main street in the centre of town.

It was a bright but cold afternoon in early April. The streets were bustling with people making their way home.

The tower - a gleaming modern development of glass and steel, appeared very quiet inside. Through its transparent exterior he could see a few people, who seemed to be taking down what looked like market stalls. Looking around again at the adjacent buildings, he could see that this was definitely the same spot of the address he had visited the other day.

And yet - it just looked slightly different. He could sense this, although he would have been hard pressed to explain exactly how. Something about the placement of its walls and corners on the pavement just wasn't the same. Looking up at its many floors, the apparent height and shape of the structure was making him doubt himself.

Hesitant as to whether to go in, Philip stood there puzzled - and uneasy. He'd left something in there on his previous visit two days ago, on the fifth floor, and he urgently needed to get it back.

He'd worked a shift there, in the building's cafeteria - a job which had come through an agency he'd joined recently - the cafeteria used by the office staff who worked for the various companies based there.

After some uncertainty, he went in through the large revolving door. In front of him was a smooth, semi-circular desk, presumably for the reception. There was no-one there.

To the right was a wide, well-lit corridor leading down to the elevators. It seemed familiar to him, but again the dimensions felt slightly altered. Following it he saw those market stalls to the left being dismantled. The people doing this were very quiet.

He wondered whether to ask them if this was the building - the Millennium Building - that he was looking for. But something stopped him. Something about them stopped him from asking.

There was on-one else around. Nobody he could ask. Though there was a tranquil quality to the open and spacious interior, this did not relax him. He needed to get his left item back. He thought of phoning the agency's office, and took out his phone to do so. But his call was answered only by a jarring, continuously engaged tone.

It was nearly dark outside. Looking up, he could see the floors in their concentric circles, tapering up to the glass roof. The open-plan offices, meeting rooms and call centres were all still. Knowing that he wasn't supposed to, yet feeling that there was no other choice, he went to the elevator door and pressed the button to call it.

With a gentle sound the door slid open. Philip went inside, almost tiptoeing, and pressed the button for the fifth floor. Through the glass panes of the lift he saw the internal levels of the tower passing him by. Soundlessly it came to a standstill and the door opened automatically.

Walking around the curving corridors he saw a cafe and beyond it a cafeteria - again his recognition of it came with some lingering doubt. He could smell - something - perhaps the smell of something burning - though it was quite faint.

In the corner of the cafe were some bathrooms, and near them what may have been - he thought - the door to the changing room he had used the other day - the one he had left it in.

Pushing this door open he found a small utility room with lockers and coat hangers. Various items were left there - the odd coat, scarf, plastic bag, a pair of shoes. But he could not find what he was looking for.

Though it was unlikely he'd left it in the kitchen, he decided to take a quick look. Easing open one of its doors, he entered a large space of long, clean surfaces and fridges humming in the dimness.

He suddenly became aware of quite a strong smell of burning - and - looking around - he saw some flames near an oven.

Alarmed, Philip made his way back to the lift and hurriedly pressed several times on the button. He waited and waited for what seemed a long time. There was no indication that it was coming. He searched around for some stairs - but could not find any - despite having circled the floor several times.

Feeling trapped and desperate by now, he went to a window which was partially open, pushed it further, and shouted for help.

Many pedestrians were passing by on the pavement below, but they did not seem to hear him at all.

Philip began slowly sitting down - now semi-unconscious from the noxious fumes. His phone started ringing, but he was too dazed to respond. A female voice spoke on his answering machine:

'Hi Philip - I'm just returning your call. Just to remind you, you have a shift starting tomorrow at 8am. By the way - we have something of yours here, somebody from a place you worked at the other day returned it to us.'

Reviews

[emmajoygreen]

Fine words, fine thoughts, straight wording, more than good flow. Had a feeling something was going to happen but who knows.. rather than say more for the sake of other readers. You built up the urgency, the need to search.. and that after describing the building.. Good sense of atmosphere, in other words.

Many thanks for sharing, for taking this reader into a such a situation.

[Relic]

Oh, the irony and what a way to go. Maybe he's a ghost re-enacting his fateful day over and over for an eternity. Not too bad of a story and well written.