Halloween Interlude – Tar

There is a door that leads nowhere and above that door is tar.

It’s not really tar, I’ll tell you that right now. Looks like tar. Stinks like tar. Ain’t tar.

First of all, it don’t flow right. Tar has a certain viscosity and it thickens as it cools. Tar is heated to usefulness. When it ain’t hot, it’s just a thick mess. This stuff that ain’t tar, it flows steadily. Slowly, granted, but steadily. And it stays warm. It stays so warm.

Second, there’s a smell beneath the stink. A sour/sweet smell, like fresh vomit or spoilt meat. It’s faint, but it’s there. Stand beneath the tar for a couple of seconds

(but, not too long. Oh, god, not too long)

and you’ll smell it. Like to make your stomach turn if you think about it too long.

Third, and this is the killer, third, it follows you. That’s the killer. It follows you. You walk past that tar that ain’t tar and it’ll change direction. You gotta look carefully and closely and enough people walk by all day to keep it switching directions, but you’ll see it move. Tiny like. But, it happens.

And the door. No one opens that door. I never seen it open. Oh, I figure it can – someone has the key – but I never seen behind it. Because there ain’t nothing behind it. Other side of that wall is just stairwell. Still, you hang out in this building late enough, you’ll sometimes see light through the glass, or hear sounds behind the steel. Whispering like.

They don’t say words, just sounds. Sounds that make you feel things.

I think the whisperings are connected to the tar. Can’t prove nothing of course. It’s just a hunch.

We put buckets underneath it and they’re filling with the stuff. I’m afraid of what happens if it reaches the top. Building maintenance says it ain’t their responsibility, since they can’t find a source. They sent one guy to find a leak or a pool of it. They sent him through that door. We never saw what happened to him, but the company won’t send any more guys.

So, we sit. And we pretend to not notice the tar that ain’t tar. And we go about our business.

But, the tar keeps moving. And the buckets keep filling. And I’m afraid something has got to give.

Came in this morning, there was a new stream of tar. A few feet down. I guess it’s figuring out how to move around the place.I don’t want to come in – heck, I don’t think any of us want to come in anymore – but, those whisperings are mighty persuasive.

Besides, there ain’t much left outside for us these days. It’s pretty cold out there.

And the tar is so warm.

It’s so warm.

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