An Anatomy of Typewriters Story / 2,538 words / 10min Read Time

This is a work of fiction. Unless otherwise indicated, all the names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents in this story are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
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I let out a nervous chuckle to fill the room that suddenly felt quieter than usual. Perhaps I was mistaken and the doll was never there to begin with. I hate this store so itâs possible I thought I sawâ
Something moved behind me. That I know was real. I quickly move the flashlight in my hand to try and catch it.
âStop, whoever you are,â I said, putting my hand on my hip, looking for my gun but remember itâs safely in the drawer of the control room. I stop the flashlight at the counter that is cluttered with trinkets and old toys that look like theyâve been featured there since before the mall existed. Though they are surprisingly clean. Not a speck of dust on anything. A small gold plated piano. An old lamp with a multicolored lampshade. Statues of cherubs and other children looking happier than normal.
The cash register was just as old as the rest of the store. I doubted it even worked properly and wondered if it might just be a prop since it goes so well with the rest of the merchandise. Leaning against the register was the doll from the window. There was no denying it. She was turned away from me, almost in a seated position though her body seemed unable to bend all the way. Her hand moved up slowly, straight and stiff, to move her hair full head of doll hair out of her face when she turned it towards me.
âHave you seen my daddy? He doesnât like me. But he likes you,â she said. Her voice shrill and high pitched just like I remember from my childhood. My sister had a doll just like this one. She pulled the string over and over again. The damn thing only have four lines but I heard she pulled it so often I would hear them in my sleep. That is, until I cut the string near the base so she could never pull it again. My sister never forgave me for that. Even to this day she doesnât send me a Christmas card. But sheâs always been selfish that way. Iâll be damned if Iâm going to let this doll scare me!
âWhoâs there? I swear I will go and get my gun and bring it back here and I will shoot you,â I threaten. Iâm sure I wouldnât really do that. Whatever damage I cause would come out of my paycheck and Iâm sure this crap was all overpriced.
Just behind the cash register was the backroom. The door swung open slightly and I could see light coming from inside. I moved the flashlight without thinking and quickly moved it back but was too late. The doll was gone. A moving doll? No way. Someone was clearly playing a joke on me.
The sound of typing fills the quiet. First itâs slow, sort of how I type. Then it started to speed up, then I heard a ding and the sound of the typewriter moving to the next line on the page. Someone was back there typing? Seriously.
âHey, asshole. Get the hell out here, now!â I shout. Iâll admit my voice wasnât as loud or forceful as I wanted it to be. I was starting to question whatever was going on but I had a job to uphold and seeing as the mall had never been robbed while I was on the job I wasnât about to let tonight be the night.
The typing continued and I realized whoever was back there was either deaf or stupid so I decided I was going to have to go back there and deal with them. I started making my way behind the counter when there was a tap on my shoulder.Â
Hector learned his lesson this time and backed away quickly before I had a chance to grab him by the wrist and tackle him to the ground.Â
âYou are way too high strung, man. This job is supposed to be easy, no?â Hector asked.
âYou left,â I said, eyeing him suspiciously. Hector wasnât the type to play a joke, at least, I never thought of him as a jokester. But I didnât know him for very long and itâs not like we were close friends.
âThat rain is crazy out there. I called my lady and sheâs coming to get me. You mind if I hang in the control room while I wait? Itâs locked. I thought youâd be back there by now. What you doinâ in here?â Hector asked, looking around the room. âThis place always gives me the creeps. I make Tony handle this one.â
âShh!â I say, I want Hector to hear the typing too so I know Iâm not going crazy. We stand together in the shop in silence. No typing. I look over at the door to the backroom. Itâs not swinging anymore like it was and the light that I could see creeping from the bottom of the door isnât there either.
âAm I supposed to be hearing something,â Hector asked, whispering.
I shake my head. âNevermind. Come on, letâs go. The store was unlocked so I had to just make sure no one else was here.â As we walk towards the exit of the store I hear the typing of keys. This time I donât say anything, I wait to see if Hector will point it out. If I can hear it, surely he can hear it too. But Hector says nothing. He just stands outside of the store, holding the glass door open for me. I step outside and as I pull my ring of keys from my belt and find the master key to lock the door I can still hear the faint tapping.
I continue to eye Hector suspiciously. âWould you stop staring at me, man. Itâs creeping me out. What is your deal?â Hector asked.
âNothing. Sorry. Iâm just on edge. I havenât had a chance to get coffee in me yet. You know how that is.â Hector nodded. We reached the control room and I unlocked it to let him in. âHow long before your lady gets here?â I asked, making conversation. I hated having someone around during my shift but for some reason, tonight, I was glad for any company right now. I couldnât help but feel like someone was watching me even though the control room is the only place in the entire mall that didnât have cameras inside.
âNot long,â Hector says, looking at his watch. âIn fact,â he continued, pointing towards one of the exterior CCTV cameraâs, âthere she is now.â
I saw a small sedan, dark blue (maybe black?) pull into view of the camera. I have to admit my heart sank when I saw Hector quickly leave. At least he shook my hand on the way out the door. This time I watched him on the cameras as he walked down the corridor and pushed the heavy storm door to the street. He ran and got into the passenger side of the car that pulled out and drove away. I locked the control room door behind him and made a quick check that all the automated doors were shown as closed and locked on the computer before deciding on following my own advise and having coffee. I even opened up my brown paper bag and pulled out my footlong sandwich. It was several hours earlier than I should be eating it, but I needed a distraction and a freshly made sub was it.
I inhale deeply. I love the smell of roast beef. My mouth waters at the sight and my stomach makes a low gurgling sound. I know this was the right decision. I pick up half and bring it to my mouth. Before I can take a bite the monitors on the desk in front of me start going in and out. Not the normal transitions Iâm used to as it cycles through various cameras throughout the mall. This is different. Someone is messing with the system.
At the moment I have two options; finish my sandwich or put it down and go investigate. I go with the better option instead. I finish my bite of the sandwich that is already in my mouth anyway. My eyes roll in the back of my head as I savor every chew. I wipe the corners of my mouth which now have mayonnaise caught there from my large bite and make for the door. I stop and turn back. Whoever this is wasnât going to catch me unprepared this time. I pull open the desk drawer and grab our standard issued gun and clip it to my belt. I was ready.
I take one more look at the screens to try and ascertain if I needed to go to a specific location in the mall or the room with all the wires and cables first. That room was in the basement directly under this room and I hated going down there. Iâd only been there once, when I was given the grand tour of the place by a fellow security guard who was not Guy. He felt he was much too important to do something as mundane as walk me around so he made someone else do it. The second we went down there I instantly didnât like it. For starters the lights only flicker on by motion and only for ten seconds. The further down the hallways you go the lights behind you start to go out. Made my skin crawl just thinking about that time. Even the kid who was with me was a bit on edge and made that visit the fastest of the whole tour. Not that there was much to see. It look like the standard fuse box in any home, only multiplied by ten with the amount of power this mall needed to generate. There was one smaller one, tucked away from the main area that was specifically for the monitors and cameras throughout the mall. I was told it was the only one I needed to concern myself with. The others were for lights and power throughout the different stores and they were never to be touched by us; security. I couldnât care less as I never planned on visiting the damn placed anyhow. I shouldâve known just how wrong I was.Â
I could tell by the way the monitors were flickering that the problem couldnât be solved by going to the cameras themselves. I would need to get my ass down to the basement.Â
âDamn it,â I curse out loud to myself. I prepare to leave when I stop and notice the flickering has stopped. The feeds seem to be acting normal again. Normally, I would be required to investigate the issue anyway, in case it happens again, but my stomach had other plans. I sat back down to finish the first half of my sandwich.Â
Thereâs an extra monitor that weâre allowed to use for other things and doesnât cycle through mall cameras. Most of us use it to check our emails, stuff like that. I use it to watch a tv show. Itâs not like anyone is here to tell me I canât. I lean back in my chair, put my feet up on the desk, and grab the other half of the sandwich, getting ready for my first of two naps for the night.

WOOOOOOOOP! WOOOOOOOOP! WOOOOOOOOP!
The alarm was slow and rhythmic almost. I was used to more alarming noises than that so while others may have woken with a start, I yawned and stretched before opening my eyes. The lights in the control room dimmed and went brighter, following the same cadence of the alarm currently going off. I probably shouldâve been more alert and worried than I was, but that sandwich hit the right spot and I was feeling rather sluggish.
I pulled a key from the large keyring on my belt, it stretched along a long retractable cord. This key was specific to what was happening. We in the security office call it âthe silencerâ because it does just that. Whenever the alarm goes off, no matter if itâs the whole mall or just one store, this key will stop it. On the desk is a square with a clear lid. I lift the lid back and suddenly I feel like Iâm some major military general about to stop the bombs from launching. I put the key in the hole and turn it, holding it there for a count of three beats before turning it back and putting the lid back in the closed position. The alarm stops immediately.
I look at a switch board that has a series of lights that only activate when an alarm has gone off. It saves time to know where the intrusion is happening before we set off on a wild goose chase in a mall this size. My heart sinks when I see itâs that damn antique shop.
âThatâs it! Iâm gonna get the bastard this time,â I said, grabbing the flashlight off the desk and walking with great speed towards the escalator that will leave me right in front of Anderâs Antiques.
I try the door again and itâs unlocked. Now, I know I locked it before I left it earlier so it proves that someone is inside. Or at least someone is in the mall other than myself. I turn on my flashlight and point it out in front of me before stepping inside. So far itâs quiet, just the sound of my keys jingling and my heavy combat boots filling the room. I stop and turn my flashlight to look back towards the display window.
I move slowly from one side of the window to the other. I know what Iâm looking for and I donât see it yet. I know the last time I saw that damn doll was at the cash register but Iâm sure my mind was just playing tricks on me. Sheâs got to be back in the window. The display is a bed. Her bed, I wouldnât wonder. A dresser thatâs made for a doll or perhaps a small child. And a rocking chair where the doll is meant to be sitting, a book in her lap. The flashlight hits the bottom of the rocking chair and I start to move it upwards slowly. I see her feet. Black shoes. Why do all creepy porcelain dolls wear black shoes on their fat legs? Then her dress. I want to stop there. Iâm satisfied sheâs sitting in the chair and I was imagining things. But the chair starts to rock back and forth. Back and forth.
The light in my hand shakes slightly. Okay, my hand is shaking slightly. I know Iâm a grown man with a gun but seriously?
The doll jumps down from the chair and I swing the light up to see it standing there with a large kitchen knife in its hand.
âAre you my daddy?â I hear the sound of keys typing in the back room as I let my flashlight fall to the floor.
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