Mannequin Hell

A key clicked the lock open, the bell on the door, being the first to greet the intruder with a friendly clink.

Rachael sighed “Ugh, nervous break down my arse! Can’t believe I have to fill in, I hate customer service.”

“I’m the regional manager, not a sales assistant…ew” She muttered, scrunching up her face at the thought of having to serve the public.

Striding quickly towards the alarm, Rachael punched in the code, to ensure her ears would be spared.

A chill ran down her spine, like tiny spider legs were creeping down her collar, as she walked through the threshold.

Passing headlights illuminated the frosted glass, magnifying the shadows of the mannequins in the corner.

Her breath quickened.

"Fuck this shop is creepy in the morning", she muttered to herself, turning the corner to open the office door, clenching her fists through the darkness.

Rachael thumbed for her phone, giving up on navigating the never-ending void of a storeroom, and switching the torch on.

A shadow darted across the wall.

Rachael flicked her eyes to the boxes, but there was nothing there.

She shined the torch, just beyond her feet.

Out of nowhere, a mannequin fell on top of her, causing her to step back and bump several boxes on to the floor, dropping her phone.

Hot drips of water landed upon her face.

From a leaky pipe above.

She looked around frantically in the dark,

On the brink of hyperventilating, Rachael, kneeled down to search.

She spotted a dim light in amongst a stack of boxes.

She reached her arm in, her fingers searching for her cracked plastic lifeline.

Suddenly,

The office door swung open,

A blinding orange light filled the threshold,

A hot gust of wind blew through the storeroom, pushing Rachael’s bleach blonde hair out of her face.

A thin plastic foot planted itself on Rachael’s rib cage, stepping over her, rigidly making its way towards the orange light.

For the first time in her life, Rachael was speechless, as she looked up at the blush-coloured thighs of the mannequin, its lifeless eyes staring down at her.

“We’ve had enough of your shit Rachael.” Emanated from the Mannequins stone like features.

“Do you know where bad regional managers go, when they die?” Another mannequin asked, as it stepped on Rachael’s ankle, joining the other.

“Wait what?” Rachael stuttered, as she gazed at the animated plastic, as another foot stepped on her neck.

“Oh dear, she doesn’t even know the kind of stress she’s caused” exclaimed the third one to the others.

“Making all these young people work boxing day, just so you can go to Bali twice a year” …. Said a female mannequin as she stepped over Rachael.

“Blaming poor sales on a person, rather than the long term decline of the physical retail industry” …. Said a solo leg as it hopped over Rachael’s head.

“Under staffing to cut costs” …. Said a head as it rolled over Rachael’s butt, having to take a break halfway through.

“Causing a person to go 7 hours with out a toilet break”…. said a set of legs, as it stood on Rachael’s bladder.

“She had to pee in a bucket” … said a set of buttocks, as it jumped on Rachael’s abdomen.

“Ignoring real problems, and getting angry when someone tries to speak up about it” …. said a hand, as it ran up Rachael’s legs.

“Okay! Okay! You can stop. But I have to say I’m just doing what head office tells me to do”, lamented Rachael, attempting to scramble her way to her feet.

“Excuses!”

“Excuses!”

“Excuses!”

They all trilled in unison.

“Stop blaming your own mistakes on other people” A topless male mannequin with one arm exclaimed, as he stood on Rachael’s boob.

The four female mannequins clasped at Rachael’s feet.

“You are coming with us now” they exclaimed.

“Wait! What are you going to do to me?” attempting to bide time.

“You will be displayed, for all to see. People will gawk, as the sales staff undress you. They may even leave you topless for over 20 minutes, if they need a smoke break.” They exclaimed.

“They will give you a stripper name, Like Candy. Or Lotus.” The arm announced.

The head rolled towards Rachael’s face “And then, when you are worn, scratched, and they can’t peel the sticky tape off your bum anymore. You will be”

“Out”

“Out”

“Out”

“In the dumpster you will go!” they trilled, as they dragged her through the orange glowing door.

Rachael screamed and clawed at the cold cement floor.

Alas, it was too late for her.

Rachael was never seen again.

But it's not too late for you.

Don't be a garbage person.

Or you might be next...