CHRISTMAS EVE GRAVEYARD SHIFT

I worked the graveyard shift at the radio station. The ease of doing my job was worth having to keep strange hours compared to the normal hours of most people. Relaxing because there were few phone calls especially between 12 AM and 4 AM sometimes would almost lull me to sleep. Christmas eve would be very different.

My familiarity with several musicians allowed me to seek help so that I wouldn’t start falling asleep especially on Christmas eve. They agreed to compose and produce special music guaranteed to keep me awake. In return, my part meant giving them credit and play-time so they could book appearances throughout the local areas near the radio station.

My Christmas music program would include traditional songs and these unknown special songs created by my new friends. I counted the minutes as the day dragged. My heartbeat rose, I got restless, and I was unable to coax sleep to help pass the time.

Sure enough when I can sleep I don’t, figures!

Jogging downstairs and grabbing my keys, 32 oz coffee mug, and the new music brought forth nervous energy and some muscle twitches. I couldn’t imagine what was on the recordings but I didn’t worry about my boss making any issues of my ingenuity in creating a better and more interesting listening experience for our devoted fans. I intended to listen to the songs before going to work but events made this impossible. Oh well! I’ll wing it and whatever happens, happens.

The best play-time for the band is between 4 AM and 8 AM, but it wasn’t ideal for me because I got sleepy earlier. My mind was firmly focused on playing the new stuff around 12:30 AM until about 3:30 AM.



Relieved when most of my shift was behind me. Fighting off sleep as it chased me every second haunting my mind and beating upon my eyelids would be a battle won in about an hour if only I could find a way to rev my metabolism and create more energy.

What taps on my shoulder? Where am I? {/}

As the fog lifted from my brain I realized I was at work. Two policemen stood before me. Blinking and slowly straightening myself my mind sharpened when they mentioned my colleague.

Numb and astounded hearing about the brutal murder of Mackey gave me chills and electricity running amuck all over me. I had to concentrate and focus on the task at hand rather than reconstruct my recent glorious activities. Playing the events over and over was thrilling but this was not the place nor the time for further enjoyment and pleasure.

Stay calm and think before you speak.

We talked until my shift was over. Being here the entire time doing my show disqualified me as a suspect. Returning home and finally having time to get some desperately needed sleep eased my jitters.

Hours later I was still awake haunted by the blood and guts and missing brain. Slippery floor tiles repeatedly playing in my mind as I slid to the back door. The adrenalin rush flashed reminding me of the thrill of gouging out the eyes which were such a delicacy. Brain spread works well on toast and the best meat was the thigh although other body parts would do.

My stomach rumbled so I decided to cook a rare steak and maybe some ribs. Blood gravy is wonderful on the steak but BBQ sauce with some brain spread mixed is better on the ribs. Unfortunately, I had to leave some fingers for identification purposes, after all, he was someone I worked with daily.

Who is knocking now?

The two policemen stood at my door. Cuffing me and escorting me to the police car they read my rights. Telling them I had never seen the voice recorder didn’t make any difference. The janitor rehearsed his knowledge about the time of the murder. Entering the studio to clear out some old cassette tapes he didn’t see me. Again checking on me I still was nowhere to be found. He often listened to the radio while he was working and knew for sure I was doing my show but also know I wasn’t a ghost.

After the police fully investigated the murder I was on trial and eventually sentenced to death. The evidence showed my guilt in this matter. When the recording was played for the jury at least some of it I finally heard the new music for the first time. It was awful Halloween style Christmas music.

I know it definitely would have kept me awake but my adventure foraging for tasty food was more interesting and exciting. I only wish I had more time to go hunting. I now regret leaving some fingers and should have cleaned up all of the remains of Mackey, such a sad oversight. Without my competition, I was certain to win the Best DJ Award.

I certainly wouldn’t play that horrible Halloween Christmas music ever again. Maybe a change of shifts would allow me to find better hunting conditions. I might even change my preferred animal to something else. Perhaps a more tender delay. It may be smaller but it sure would be tasty and I wouldn’t need to use a tenderizer.

After many years of waiting and being examined my execution date was canceled. Being hospitalized for years uncounted was distressing. I wanted to be able to hunt as the pilgrims did years ago.

I was told that when I recovered I may be able to go to a group home. At long last, there was good news Looking forward to the day when I could transition to a group home inspired me to get well soon.


My room was on the ground floor of the huge farmhouse. The view spectacular and colorful enticing me to venture outside and enjoy my newfound freedom. Sadly I had to wait because it is required for me to have an escort. No problem, I’ll manage to wait.

Days later my familiarity with every inch of this place gave way to my need to go hunting. The graveyard shift beckoned to me. Licking my lips in anticipation of having the veal which I so intensely craved My stealth mode saw me safely outside on my way into the suburbs.

I belched with great satisfaction. My host didn’t object to me having a very late dinner. Silently keeping me company as I devoured the tender morsels I make a mental note to clean up after myself.

Getting a shovel from the garage and digging a place to dispose of the unused meat. I dumped my host and the small number of leftovers from her offspring into the hole. It was fitting for the weather to be cold so that I could light a fire and burn all the rest of my mess in the fireplace. As for the shovel blade, It found its way into the septic system. I mentally patted myself on the back for being a wonderful guest and drove out of town in their car.

Hopefully, I’ll be able to invite some people over to my new apartment for dinner soon. This may be more interesting and exciting than going hunting. Finding a job should be relatively easy. There’s a radio station near the apartment complex. Life is good.

1231 words

SCREAMS CONTEST December 2020
PROMPT: A perfect murder
or
Midnight broadcast

6766 characters, 1231 words. Readability level: 11-12th grade student.