Writing for Fun
July 2017
Déjà Vu - Anna Browning
I followed the woman into the lift, and went and stood opposite her, waiting for my floor. I idly glanced over, taking in her shabby appearance, her greasy, grey hair, her severe facial expression. She must have felt my stare because she looked straight back at me. Her cold, grey eyes, peering back into mine. I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand up bristling with fear. I could not understand why. She was a fairly nondescript woman. Her appearance seeming out of place in the modern office block. But she somehow felt familiar, God knows why. I had never met her before. I only knew I had to get away from her. My floor number beeped and I left the lift, the door closing behind me. I stood there momentarily paralysed, wondering why I felt so fearful and intimidated by this middle aged woman. I could not shake this feeling of apprehension.
I entered my office still trying to wrack my brain, but to no avail, nothing sprang to mind. I shoved this stupidity out of my mind, and sat down at my desk, immersing myself into the day’s tasks ahead. I soon forgot my strange experience. At the end of the day I went home, grabbed something to eat, changed and went off to meet my friends at the local pub. We had a few beers and chatted about the usual mundane things, then I went home to my luxurious flat, and fell tiredly into bed, falling asleep immediately.
I awoke with a start, in a cold sweat, my heart pounding wildly. My breathing ragged, my mind still trying to retain the remnants of my nightmare. My fingers frantically, searching for the light switch on my bedside lamp. I sat up my hands trembling as I pushed back my damp hair off my face. I could still feel the blackness suffocating me, pushing me down, down, deep. I opened my eyes and the nightmare slid away, leaving me in a shaking mess. Why? Why? What’s going on? I made myself a hot drink and tried to recollect my thoughts and memories but nothing, sprang to mind.
In the morning I got dressed and left for work, feeling tired but okay. My nightmare relegated to the back of my mind, filed away and forgotten. My mind focused instead on the day ahead, meetings to arrange, schedules to be met, friends to catch up with. Life was busy and fun. I worked steadily through the day. The hours racing past when I suddenly felt exhausted. I looked up at the clock and noticed I had worked steadily without respite into the evening. I stood up, stretched my limbs and prepared to leave. The main office was empty, devoid of people. I could just hear the movement and clutter in the background. I looked out into that office and saw the cleaner busy emptying the bins and dusting furniture. I put on my jacket, picked up my briefcase and headed for the lifts. The cleaner was now close to me, shaking her duster. She looked up as she heard my steps walking towards her. I recognised her as the woman from the day before. I muttered good night.
I woke up with a start, my skin clammy with sweat. My body shaking with fear. This time I sensed I was in a cupboard, dark, small and claustrophobic. I felt unable to breathe, my mouth gasping for air. My fingers clawing helplessly for a way out. Then suddenly the light poured in as the door swung back revealing a face peering down at me. A forbidding face with a cruel mouth. The eyes cold grey penetrating mine. The stern, harsh voice saying, ‘Are you going to behave and not wet the bed? You stupid baby. The devil will come and get you and take you to hell, where you will burn.’ She yanked me out and shook me. My mind and body shaking with fear. What was going to happen next? I felt cold and wet, hungry for food, my stomach rumbling. The last time I had eaten was a piece of toast at breakfast yesterday. I could hear the other children laughing and shrieking outside in the playground. If only I could control my bladder and not wet the bed. I would be fine.
I realised this face belonged to the hated tyrant Miss Norris, the matron at the orphanage where I had been placed. My parents had been killed in a motor accident and I had no other family. My life was a living hell with no one to protect me or rescue me. But life goes on. As the years went by I grew older, taller and stronger. Miss Norris was always there dishing out the punishments as if they were sweets. But I bore the brunt of them with stoicism. She could no longer imprison me in a tiny cupboard. I was too big now. When I was old enough I left the orphanage, managing to get into university due to my hard work and ambition.
I was now the boss of a large successful company employing hundreds of people. I realised that the woman cleaning my offices was one and the same monster in my nightmares. The evil Miss Norris. She could so easily have fitted the role of a Nazi Commandant. What was I going to do? She had certainly come down in the world. Once a Matron, now a cleaner. What had gone wrong? Had she been found out? I pondered over my decision. I needed to do something but what? I searched online to check the orphanage. But the orphanage no longer existed. I checked with the local council, but again people had died, or left the country. I contacted Human Resources to find out more details of Miss Norris. To my surprise the name wasn’t on the employees register. She did not exist.
Who was the woman cleaning the offices? She hadn’t been there that long as I had only just noticed her. I requested HR to find out who she was and let me know. The surprise was that she wasn’t on their records. They had a cleaning company dealing with our offices and they were all male cleaners! I was stunned. I decided to stay later to catch this woman. I waited and waited but no woman appeared. Instead a man appeared with a Hoover and started to clean the carpets. I was now totally perplexed and all I could come up with, was that this woman was either a figment of my imagination brought on by my nightmares or she was a restless spirit bent on driving me mad.
I needed help!