‘It’s just plain vandalism, is what it is!’ The stuffy old man informed me for the third time in as many minutes. He even slapped his hand down on the counter. ‘You are the property manager aren’t you? When was the last time you even went to take a look at it?’
…Good question.
‘Now look, I have a stand up team that I send round to all of the properties we manage to make sure everything is above board!’ I exclaimed, forcing every ounce of disbelief into my tone.
‘Well everything is very much not above board, and you would know that if you’d seen the damn property!’ He started to turn red, I don’t think I was going to win on this occasion.
‘Alright Mr.Pollock, alright. Do you have a list of the damages with you now? I’ll go out myself personally first thing in the morning. I’m very sorry for any inco-‘
‘Oh save it, I don’t want to hear your apologies. Just fix the damn mess! The place is pretty much ruined anyway…’ He paused, some gears started turning in his head, never a good sign. I should get ahead of his thought.
‘Well, it isn’t that late now I think on it. What say we go to the property right now? So you know I’m not gonna cut any corners. You make the assessment with me, how’s that sound?’ I proposed cheerfully. What am I saying? I want to go home!
‘That’s what I said from the start!’ He burst, leaning forward all too abruptly knocking over my cup of pens. A bead of saliva escaped the corner of his mouth and his eyes bulged with rage. What an incredible over reaction… well, maybe not, I still hadn’t seen the property after all.
‘Well then, let’s go!’ I said, hurrying him out of the office before anything else got knocked over.
Half hour later I was pulling up outside 128 Dovecote Close and… oh. God damn it, look at the state of that. Before I even had my car door open I could hear Mr.Pollock blowing another gasket as the state of his property was refreshed in his mind.
‘It’s not just vandalism! It’s hooliganism!’ He was waving his arms around at the debris strewn across the front lawn. Smashed glass and splintered wood stuck into the ground as if it had been thrown in piece by piece like little darts.
‘What in the hell…’ I groaned, shoulders sinking low.
‘Oh I don’t need you to tell me buddy!’ He said marching up the drive way, arms still swinging this way and that. No really, what in the hell. I followed him up the drive, stepping over the door that had been blown out of its frame and snapped into… one, two… five pieces. I walked in through what was left of the threshold and peered around.
‘Mr Pollock?’ I called, he’d gone unusually quiet. ‘Where’d you go?’ I tried the light switch on the wall but I guess whoever did this also managed to eradicate the wiring in the walls. I crunched my way over broken floorboards and loose dry wall. Ah this is buggered, from top to bottom, just buggered. ‘Mr.Pollock, this is a disaster. Have you spoken to the neighbours at all?’ I called into the darkness of the living room. He still didn’t answer. I took my phone out and turned on the torch, giving the room an eery pale glow. A length of black rope was curled up on the ruined carpet, maybe it was a cable that ran through the cie- no, no it just moved. I watched it disappear into the kitchen, right into the darkness. ‘Mr. Pollock? Was that you?’ Still he was silent. ‘Well, you know, all told I don’t think it’s so bad…’ I tested. ‘I reckon you can claim this on your insurance!’ I shouted. Nothing. I crept towards where the black rope had slithered away, keeping my torch ahead of me. ‘Hello?’ I whispered.
‘I’m out here!’ I heard Mr.Pollock bellow from the back garden. I breathed a sigh of relief and hurried through the kitchen, out of the corner of my eye I saw the long black rope slip through a doorway and down, thud thud thud thud thud, it bumped its way down some stairs. I froze wide eyed, terrified to move in the open space of the kitchen.
‘Mr.Pollock?’ I hissed. His legs and arms came marching inside out of the dark and I bellowed out a shout as his form appeared in my torch light.
‘Exactly!’ He said rocking his head around in a frenzy. ‘Now you’re getting it!’ He shouted, sending globs of spittle at every angle.
‘Mr.Pollock, let’s get out of here.’ I pleaded ‘We’ll deal with this, I promise.’
‘Oh, no no no. You haven’t seen the worst of it.’ He wagged his hand right in my face. His veins stood out against his skin, dark and forking. ‘Look down there!’ I followed his hand as it stabbed a finger down the stairs where the black rope had gone.
‘I believe you perfectly well, it’s absolutely knackered. I take full responsibility and I’ll do everything I can to make it better.’ I said, starting to back up to the living room.
‘Oh no you don’t!’ He spat, grabbing me by the front of my coat and shoving me towards the stairs. ‘Get down there and see for yourself!’ His tongue did its best to mop up the mess he’d made around his mouth, his eyes were completely swivelling and manic now.
‘Alright, I’m going. I’m going…’ I turned to the stairs and gulped. Slowly I poked my head into the stairwell and shone my torch down into the black depths. I could make out the cement floor at the bottom, and a few strewn bits of clothing. One by one I creaked down the narrow stairs, waiting with each breath for another thud. As I got half way the air became thick and musty, as if great amounts of earth had been overturned moments ago. When I was at the bottom, I once again peered through the frame of a doorway into the next expanse of darkness. I slowly panned my torch around and stopped on a huge black mass in the corner, it seemed to be convulsing, like a sack of liquid that had been disturbed.
‘Oh, no that’s enough Mr.Pollock. I see there’s a plumbing issue-‘ I began, turning around to climb the stairs, but Mr.Pollock stood behind me grimacing madly. He pushed me into the room and marched right on over to the pulsating sack.
‘Do you see what I’m dealing with?’ He pointed directly at it, and arched his leg for a good kick.
‘Mr.Pollock, NO!’ I shouted, but it was too late. The toe of his boot landed plump into the mass, and out poured a psychedelic display of colour and light, shapes and prisms. I watched as tendrils of black rope shot up through the black mass where the light erupted and into Mr.Pollock. He laughed hysterically at the show, his arms still waving desperately as he was pulled through the hole in the floor. Oh boy did I scream as he immediately climbed back out, his flailing arms replaced by black ropey tendrils, lashing and whipping in the same manner he’d waved his human arms moments before. I dropped my phone and scarpered up the stairs as I heard his angry protests.
‘Break into my home will you? It’s just plain vandalism, is what it is!’