College Vamp

Tales And Dreams (EDITED)

11:05am

Victor sat at his workstation, browsing a spreadsheet of story names and authors. His editing program mid-export on a completed narration in the background. Just past the 50% mark. Harper stood at the water cooler, refilling her empty bottle. Her personal stack of Shadow novels on top of the jug. Inside a few of the booths, a few sound engineers tested out microphones and the audio boards. Victor stopped at a story on the list and clicked the associated hyperlink. As the page began to load, Victor peered over at Trixie's office. It was appropriately decorated with Halloween decor to the patches of fake cobwebs draped over the windows. However, it was vacant. An orange and black sign hung from the doorknob, reading 'Currently a wandering spirit, be back soon'.

"Does Trixie come in late on Saturdays?" He asked, looking over to the water cooler.

"Just about," Harper answered, taking one last sip of water before crushing the cup, "Has brunch every Saturday with her author friend from South Bend."

Victor turned his chair to face her, passing a glance at his laptop. "Who's the author?"

"Bran Martin. Writes a lot of short horror stories, puts them out in compilation books every six months," She tossed her cup away and leaned against the wall, "Guy can write a good story, but is super fucking weird."

Victor raised an eyebrow. "Do I ask, how weird exactly?"

Harper clapped her hands, rubbing them together. "Oh boy. Get this. About a year ago, Trix had him in for an interview to promote one of his books. It was a pre-recorded thing. So, she's got him in the studio, giving him the run down before they start recording. So, they begin and Trixie gives her little introduction and then says, 'Before we get into this, how are you, Bran?'. He just pauses and says, 'I'm fine. The bodies in my trunk have stopped screaming...'"

There was a long silence. Victor just stared back, waiting for a punchline, but he was only met with an un-jesting expression.

"Well then."

"Oh, that was tame compared to the rest of that session...and if you don't believe me," Harper looked over at another occupied desk. "Mark, what did Bran say when Trix asked him what his inspirations were?"

Victor turned to look at his co-worker. Mark's eyes shifted between him and Harper. Then, he put on the same un-jesting look.

"He said, 'Stephen King, Clive Barker, Alfred Hitchcock, and the demons clawing their way out of my skull.'"

Mark's voice had gone to the soft-spoken mannerisms Harper had just imitated and the same long pause. He blinked, looking back to Harper who only nodded back.

"Well, it sounds like he knows how to put you on the spot."

"And turn a 10-minute recording session into 30 minutes of Trix trying to get an answer," Harper remarked, stepping from the wall. "Thankfully, I wasn't the poor sucker who had to edit that. Makes me wonder what he's got coming down the pip-"

Before she could finish, a loud ding came from the overhead speakers. Harper glanced over at the lobby door just as the doorbell rang again. Sighing, she rolled her eyes and strolled over.

"Trix must've forgotten her key...again."

Victor watched her leave before going back to his work. The progress bar now at 57%.

Harper entered the lobby right as the doorbell went off a third time.

"I'm right here, Trix," she called out. She jogged to the door, unlocked it and swung it open. "Seriously, we have to talk about your-"

The moment the door was open, Harper registered that the person before her was not her frizzled, eccentric boss, but a familiar, pale, long-haired party goer smirking at her.