Midnight Janitor

Arthur Dominic was an elderly man. The lines of age creased his face yet seemed never to change in all the 35 years he had worked at Vale University. His job was tedious and tiring yet even at his age his frail frame held up as though he was a young man early in age. He had worked to the early morning hours for years and had gotten used to the lack of society he encountered on a daily basis. This night, however, would be the turning point which he had for-seen for years.

Sounds of young adults could still be heard early into the morning hours as Arthur had just finished mopping the well worn floors and began to return the mop bucket to the closet when the creak of the mop bucket being pushed slowly across the floor was drowned by the ear-piercing shriek of a pain-filled scream for help. Noticing the screams direction of origin was directly in front of him, Arthur, wrapped his aged fingers around the handle of the old wooden mop and cautiously approached the opening just behind the science lab. A chill like deaths fingers caressed his back and made his wrinkled skin crawl in fear while standing in front of the dark opening. With only the top 3 steps dimly lit by the light poring around the corner, the eerie silence from the lower level created a fear never known to Arthur.

Sweat beads began to develop upon his brow as he took his first step down the stairs. Pain began to ravage through his body as if a demon were to pore out at any moment. Dropping the mop to the floor a slight “thunk” was the only sound to be heard in the stairwell. Knowing what was happening; Arthur struggled, painfully, to the top of the stairs. Remembering what had happened only four nights ago a lone tear fell down his changing face. The lines of age tightened to show the tone of a young man yet disturbingly covered by a grey shade of color. His head pounded as if he had been hit with a hammer over and over again. Reaching to apply pressure to the throbbing area upon his head the skin on his hands began to tighten to show the same grey pigmentation as seen in his face, his nails growing to jagged, razor sharp tools matched in sharpness only by the inch long K-9s that protruded from his mouth.

Huddled into the fetal position on the freshly cleaned floor from the pain he had silently endured arose a well aged vampire whom was fearful of the one prey which he so needed. Knowing that something was amiss in the depths of the schools basement, Arthur began his ghost like decent to the darkness of the buildings depths. Again the halls were filled by the same cry for help that had drawn his attention once before. Peering around the corner the new vision which was endowed by the painful change allowed him to see as clearly as day and invisibly stock his unsuspecting prey. From room to room he glided silently as a ghost in the mist, invisible to any who may attempt to glimpse. The halls darkened by the lack of light in the wee morning hours. Peering around the final corner Arthur witnessed the molestation in process of a young girl at only 18.

Quietly Arthur approached the back of the molester as he noticed that the young girl had gone lifeless. Cautiously approaching the man on top of the lifeless body he noted a strange color of his skin. He was one of the same! Quickly and invisibly he returned to the top of the stairs and carried the mop bucket to the closet and there he hid. His body began to retreat back to normal. The color was returned to the humanistic natural pigment as it should have been, the daggers upon his hands retracted leaving no trace, and the teeth seemed to vanish with out notice.

Only a couple hours’ later young adults began to fill the halls once more as the sun rose from slumber. Professor of life science, Theodor Timbol, entered the lab long in length and every wall covered by diagrams of the human body and had shelves loaded with jars of small rodents and reptiles. His students normally enjoyed the class, but today were in for a treat, the students were going to witness their first dissection of a human being. Resting in the front of the class was a table covered in a shroud of black plastic, concealing the day’s lesson.

The corpse on the table was an elderly man, approximately 6 foot tall, balding and fit. The corpse was 68 years old and died of an aneurism during a tennis match, a perfect specimen for the students to study. As the days lessons unfolded, several students had indeed left the class, permanently. Timbol’s class size dwindled from 22 present students and one absent, to a handful of only 13 including the absent in a matter of two hours. The lost students, however disheartening to Timbol, were best for the overall welfare of the class because the smaller the class the better the learning environment Timbol felt.

As the day ended, Professor Timbol retreated to his windowless office in the back of the class room to grade the days work handed in by the students. The evening days light growing dark Professor Timbol reached into the bottom drawer of his desk and retrieved the gold flask filled with the sweet nectar of fermented corn. Timbol leaned back in his creaky old wooden chair and placing his feet firmly on the desk to assist with balance he looked into the mirror to see the reflection of a man of about 50, silver thinning hair, and a thin beard lining the round face. Abruptly, Timbol dropped the open flask onto the floor, startled by the silent arrival of Robert Ward, head of human resources. “Don’t let it all poor out on the ground, that’s abuse.” Robert jokingly stated. “Why don’t you poor me one too, it’s been a long day.” Robert said with a grin. Wiping his brow as if nervous sweat had beaded up on the thick black brow above his eyes, Timbol began to laugh in relief that his wife had not made a surprise visit to the school and caught him drinking again. Making small talk the conversation soon trailed to the whereabouts of a student that had been missing for four days. Not knowing where the young lady had been and noting that she had also been absent for four days in his class. Concerned, Robert returned to his office and called the students parents and alerted them of the odd behavior.

Robert left for home about 8:30 pm with an upset stomach. His appetite was almost nonexistent yet still he hungered. Home alone as normal, and having no will to go to he bar, Robert decided to go for a run. His jog soon wrapped the corner and approached the college in which he worked. The poorly lit sidewalk led right to the front of the
building. Seeing the lights on, Robert decided to check in on Arthur, the schools midnight janitor. Noticing the floors had yet to be touched he began to investigate the whereabouts of Arthur. Searching room to room he noticed the science lab was still illuminated by the glow of incandescent lights. Approaching the lab, Robert heard what he thought to be the sound of crying coming from the back of Timbol’s class room.

Cautiously and quietly he approached the closed oak door and pressed his ear to it. Hearing nothing but silence he slowly reached for the handle, turning it as if it were a fragile glass ornament. Softly pushing the door open he saw the back of Timbol’s head bowing down so his chin rested on his chest as if he were sobbing. “Are you ok?” Robert asked curiously. Receiving a silent reply he slowly approached the still soul sitting in the old wooden chair. Rounding the corner of the desk he noted an ice like chill caressing his neck. Seeing the red blanket of deep red blood freely flowing from the freshly cut throat of Professor Timbol, Robert stumbled back crashing into the mirror book case, startled with fear.

With a lump in his throat, Robert rushed to the door of the office confronted by a creature, five and a half feet in height yet muscular. Dusty grey skin, and large sharp teeth and had been entranced by the glow of deep blue, seemingly glowing eyes. Frozen in his tracks Robert began to tremble in fear, not knowing what to do next. “This deed need not concern you, I pray you take your leave and forget what you have seen.” the demon snarled.

Shocked, Robert nodded and began to run to the main door of the classroom again confronted by the same glowing eyes. “Your intentions are not pure.” The grey faced vampire said with a hiss. “I do not feed on those whom are innocents, only those whom must be purged.” “But why Timbol?” Robert nervously clamored. “This need not concern you!” the beast growled. “NOW LEAVE AND TELL NO ONE!”

Running to the front of the school Robert noted that the janitors closet was opened and began to search the halls for Arthur to tell him tell him to take the night off, finding nothing but quiet darkness in every hall except the one in which he had fled.

His pants wet with urine. He began to approach the hall again stopping only once at the janitors closet, grabbing a broom stick, and breaking it over his knee to reveal a sharp point as his weapon. Sweating and still shaking from the events preceding, Robert quietly stalked the demon in the class room as if on safari.

Approaching the door to the lab, he heard a hard thump receding down the stairs. Cautiously, he approached the dark corner to peer down the stairs. Noticing no light in the basement, he called to Arthur receiving a silent reply. The only sound he could hear was the beating of his own pulse. Beating rapidly from the brisk walk and the fearful silent reply he received post calling Arthur’s name. Beginning the decent down the stairs he noticed the mop resting on the stairs, as if carelessly tossed there. Slowly approaching the bottom of the stairs, he cautiously reached for the light switch to illuminate the dark nothingness that enshrouded the halls around him. Calling again with nothing in reply but the sound of a thud coming from the left of the stairwell where he stood. Cautiously he approached the room which held the boiler a figure silhouetted by the position of the light in the room and the body of the late Professor Timbol was all that could be made out. Robert could not decipher who was in front of him. “Who goes there?” Robert called to the figure. “It’s
me.” The demon said plainly.

Beyond scared, Robert asked called out to the dark figure “Who are you?” in a shaking voice. Seeing the pile of bones in front of the boiler and not a spot of blood anywhere he again asked “who are you?” in an increasingly forceful tone. Startled at the persistence the demon turned to Robert and calmly stated, “I am your midnight janitor and you are interrupting the work of justice.”

“Arthur!” Robert gasped astonished yet bewildered.

“You hired a man that was evil to the core and he decimated the youth he was hired to instruct.” Arthur said in disgust.

“But I…” silence fell over Robert min-sentence and he fell to his knees, exhausted from the evening’s events. “You are a friend to me Robert, therefore you will not die tonight. However, If word of my condition reaches outside these four walls you will surely join the young girl that once took part in Timbol’s class.” Arthur firmly stated.

“Timbol was like me, a vampire with a need to feed. However his appetite led him to lust human, mine is different. The lifeless blood of vampire I find fills the need for food quite nicely.” Arthur said jokingly. “Why else would I want to work the graveyard shift for 35 years in a row?” Arthur continued, "I hate meeting people. I find that when meeting someone I can see into there past through their eyes. Showing me all the bad they have done. Thus my lust for justice, however this time it was a two for one, justice and dinner!" Arthur said with a demonic smile.