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The Dead Chairs Circle

🇬🇧SnowPenguin
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chs / week
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20.7k
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Synopsis
It was just meant to be another day of work, stacking shelves, cleaning floors, and standing until your feet dropped off. It was simply meant to be another day at work. Until it wasn't. Malik was now dead. He had died. He knew that he had. It would be the only reason to explain why he was in this place. Trapped in an old, dusty building, unable to smash through any of the windows, unseen by all the people who walked outside, Malik is now all alone and struggling to survive. Especially at night time, when the walls start warping, the world twists, and people begin to walk out, from inside the walls and wallpaper.
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Chapter 1 - (This) is Death

The aircon wasn't working again.

It had died after a couple of minutes of being turned on.

The giant box had groaned and complained, before just shutting down and going back to sleep.

Again.

For the third time this week.

After three repairs.

Malik was beginning to think that bringing it out back, and beating it into submission with a hammer was a good idea.

One of his stupid high school classmates had come into the store that afternoon, just after the damn thing had broken down, and had smugly droned on and on about the benefits and drawbacks of percussive maintenance, drawing circled onto Malik's newly wiped counter as well.

The smug prick had kept a shit eating grin on his face the entire time, leaning over most of the counter, with his ridiculously long arms crossing over, as he laid his face down onto the cool, plastic surface, defacing the counter even further.

Malik wished that he could tell the bastard to fuck off, but he knew that it would get him a flying shoe to the head by his Grandma, whose hearing was still better than perfect at over eighty years old.

The annoying bastard did eventually leave, after Malik had reminded him that he had a shift to be getting to, at the mechanics further down town.

"An entire ten minute run from the store," he had added with his politely, using the most blank face he could muster, considering the piece of shit had depleted all his politeness reserves for the day.

Watching the idiot scramble out of the store, barely remembering to pay, almost put a smile on his face.

Almost.

Grandma came out from the flat, behind the store, and snorted as she watched him leave, muttering to herself about customers having no respect these days, before pulling down on Malik's ear to yell," I want all trace of that buffoon gone from my shop! I saw him put his hands on the counter! If I see a single speck of that stupid, spidery man when I come back, I'll be feeding you shrimp soup for the rest of the week!"

Grandma had strong opinions about spiders... and shrimp, Malik thought to himself as he watched her hobble out of the store, and off to wherever she was going, probably to her boyfriend's grandson's café where she could get some decent coffee for free.

Malik had gotten the bright idea of pretending to hate shrimp soup when he was a teenager, in an attempt to try to make it a punishment. At the time, the dish was his favourite, but now, after eating nothing but the soup, sometimes for several weeks in a row, it had become the most mediocre dish to have ever graced his taste buds.

He fucking hated shrimp soup now, and it was all his own fault.

And the fucking aircon was broken again!

He leaned down to get the phone on one of the shelves, under the counter, and dialled the last electrician to come into the store.

"Hello. I'd like to request the basic repair service for one device. It's the aircon at the Beacon Street Convenience Store, you know, the one you failed to fix, last time, Jacob," Malik intoned into the phone, not bothering to correct the pitch of his voice to sound more upbeat and friendlier, his speech getting more and more tinged by anger as he spoke until his final words came out through his gritted teeth.

"Ah, I'm speaking to... Malik, right," the man on the other side replied, sounding at least happier than Malik.

Malik's eye twitched.

"Jacob. I sat behind you in maths for three years. Don't play fucking happy with me. It's the middle of a fucking heatwave, and your friends didn't fix my aircon. Now, you're going to send somebody over here to do something about it, 'cause if you don't, I'll tell Grandma, and she'll tell your mother, and-"

"OK, OK, I'll send somebody over. Don't do any of that, alright. You know my mum doesn't want me to move out, mate. Come on," Jacob whined, his voice slightly crackling, through the phone speaker.

The little shit was probably sitting down on some comfy chair with an actual, working aircon.

"Then fucking do something. I'm going to die from this heat. The news said that it was 37 degrees today," Malik shot back, losing his patience, and ending the call then and there.

If already didn't know how bad he was at electronics, he would be tempted to find himself an open screwdriver and solve the problem.

An incident when he was in primary school, when a fuse melted, and all the power in the house went out had put all ideas of meddling with technology out of Malik's mind. He had actually believed that his watching TV after bedtime had used up all the electricity in the house forever, when in reality...

He still actually didn't know.

The embarrassment was too great though, and it wasn't likely that Grandma would ever let him forget it.

Unlike the time when he had actually succeeded in fixing the iron, and the light switch, and the kettle...

Yeah, his Grandma was a crazy bitch.

At least now her boyfriend was the one dealing with her right now.

But because of her prior slot machine addiction, he couldn't afford university, and doing an apprenticeship meant that he would be leaving her alone to run the store, something she couldn't do with her old, rickety knees.

Grandma was truly a blessing and a curse.

And where the hell was the guy that Jacob was sending?!

Their office and warehouse was a literal five minute drive away, considering there would be no traffic on a day like this; everybody was inside, enjoying their working aircon, while he was here, stewing away in the heat.

There were fucking sweat marks at his armpits, for fuck's sake.

He pulled out the spray bottle and the trusty cleaning towel and aggressively wiped down every single part of the counter that had been contaminated. He sprayed directly onto the hinges and every moving part, before taking the towel into the back, to be put in the wash, and placed the spray bottle back into its home.

Malik stormed out of the shop and took a look around outside.

The entire street was completely empty.

All the other shops had their signs up, indicating that they were open, but nobody was milling about. Both sides of the street had their signs out but looked to have no customers. The sun beat down on the pavement and bricks with heat haze covering every single surface. A single moment within the sun's light felt as if your skin was being melted off.

The lack of wind and the humidity made everything even worse.

It made Malik feel as if he was in constant need of a shower.

A problem that could be solved if somebody had fixed the fucking aircon already.

A new system, according to Grandma, was off the table for some fucking reason.

Malik would enjoy beating the shit out of the broken aircon first, before they had to take it to the scrapyard.

He grabbed himself a bottle of water from the large fridge as he walked back to the counter, at the back of the shop. He unscrewed the cap, and put it down, taking a big swig of the bottle, before he heard some clattering out at the front.

His hand had apparently lost function, due to the weather, spilling some water onto the floor. Malik felt the cold liquid run down the side of his hand, and quickly turned his hand to avoid spilling anymore water.

He could clean that up later.

He turned around and saw the engineer he was promised from Jacob, the man bright red and panting. He wore the standard black uniform that was expected of him, and Malik winced slightly, thankful for his white T-shirt and jeans, but sympathising with the man, considering he had black hair that heated up like crazy.

The electrician walked up to Malik, and wiped his hand on his shirt, moving to offer handshake, looking down onto the shop tiles.

"No need. Just fix the aircon," Malik asked the man, trying not to plead for help.

The electrician nodded, before stumbling off to go into the back.

Malik approved of the man. No unnecessary speech and all action. And also the fact that it wasn't the same guy that the company had sent last time. Malik made sure not to crowd the electrician doing his work, despite the temptation to see how to fix the damn machine. It was more important for the thing to work, than for him to know how right now.

He looked down at the spill, remembering that he needed to clean it, and saw that the tissues were on the other side of the engineer. If he wanted to get them, he would need to squeeze past the working man, and possibly disrupt him.

Another half hour in this heat would melt his brain.

The electrician was thankfully quick and efficient, and in under less than five minutes, the problem was solved, and deliciously cool air blew into the store. As soon as the electrician left, Malik was planning to just crouch there, with the fan blowing directly into his face. It was glorious.

He took the money to pay for the repairs out of the till, and wrote a message for later, stating the transaction, and offered the electrician a complementary treat from the store. The man, in question, took an ice lolly and left with it in his mouth, shouting his thanks and byes.

He was a good man.

Malik also recorded the item the item that he had given away, and came out from behind the counter to make sure that the freezer had been closed properly.

He couldn't be too careful about the freezer, in this heat.

He was also sure that a good portion of the chocolate had melted within their packaging, and wasn't particularly willing to find out. Besides, none of it was going to even sell in this heat, and a good portion was going run past the sell by date before anyone was going to buy it.

He turned around and stepped towards the counter, his feet suddenly slipping from underneath him. He threw his arms out and swung his hands for something to grab, something to slow his fall.

His hands briefly brushed some of the melting chocolates, and Malik saw the halogen lights, above him, flood his vision.

He was going to fall.

He was going to hit his head.

At least the aircon was working now...