Night Custodian

A young teacher is haunted by the memory of a former janitor.

I knew that five thirty was far too late to be staying at work on a Friday night.  But as a second grade teacher, there was little option since the curriculum I’d created required almost total alteration so it could adhere to the Superintendent’s regulations.  As I walked down the hall, every fourth step another fluorescent bulb was triggered by the motion sensor.  There must have been no one left in the building, I sincerely hoped not since the security code had never been entrusted to me.

Things had been extremely confusing as far as this was concerned ever since our previous janitor had been terminated.  It was almost impossible to know whether or not the Principal had been able to call in a replacement for the evening.   Something I knew was of the upmost annoyance to my boss, and friend Karen Palmer.  No one had liked the previous custodian Claude Cushing, but no one had also been particularly fond of the way he had been fired. 

As these thoughts ran through my mind I realized that nature was making its call.  So before worrying about the alarm, I decided to make a pit stop at the lavatory.  While inside I pondered the final words Karen had told me the old janitor had bestowed upon her.  We were out for drinks, and she’d had more than her fair share.  Almost out of nowhere told me about the grudge the Superintendent held against him. 

As far as Karen had heard Claude had married the woman the Superintendent had intended to propose to; and there was mutual bitterness ever since.  She elaborated that in her first months as principal Claude’s wife had passed; Karen had allowed him to make a monument for her in front of the school.  Once the Superintendent got wind of the project he ordered it destroyed, and Claude fired.  Karen somberly told me of this rhyme he told her before leaving, “Take my job, cut my pay/But I promise to walk these halls again someday.” 

I needed to purge these memories from my mind, or I would have sat on the toilet for the rest of the evening lost in introspection.  Finally after several breaths I was able to calm myself to the point where I could relieve myself.  Just as I was about to turn on the sink to wash my hands there was a loud clattering maybe ten feet away from the other side of the door.  I jumped in shock, but was also partially relieved to know that the alarm would not be triggered when I left the building.

Quickly I washed, and dried my hands moved over to the door let it swing open to reveal no trace of anyone else.  Made even more confused when I noticed that none of the motion sensors had been raised on the lights, what was it that I’d heard? 

Not particularly interested in an investigation I began to walk towards the front door.  Just before I could reach it there were more phantom sounds, this time of footsteps.  I turned around, and saw that none of the lights had turned on.  This must have been a symptom of the thirteen hour day I’d just endured; there was nothing else to do other than leave. 

As I was just about to approach the front door a beam of light caught my eye from behind the glass of the central office.  It was the room adjacent to the Principal’s office where we held conferences with the children’s parents.  My sense of curiosity unfortunately got the best of me; I needed to know who it was that was still in the building.

Walking through the office like the floor was covered in hot coals, I slowly moved towards the illuminated room.  Peeking my head inside; there was nothing other than the chintzy table, and second-hand copy machines.  The only thing out of place was the over powering stench of earth, and something that had been recently dug up.  Partially relieved I began to turn when something struck the side of my head, and indented it into the wall before I crumpled to the floor. 

Through the blood that was spilling into my eyes from my forehead I saw a figure standing over me.  He was using what appeared to be a plunger, wearing a handy man’s cover-all with a plaid red shirt underneath.   Penetrating through the pain and shock was the stench of death, and dirt attacking me once again before my head was bludgeoned in.