The Wheels: A Tale of Horror

He sat contentedly in his place, glad for even a short respite from the nagging troubles of the day. The calm he felt here was surprising; indeed, the air was sweet with a new fragrance, the floors were freshly waxed, and he’d finally found a place where he could be alone. But then, in the midst of his relaxation, they came.

A sound which, from that day on would haunt his dreams, found its way into the room. A sound which sparked a sudden fear into his heart. A sound which he never imagined could sound so frightening, so ominous, or so dreadfully urgent. He knew it at once to be the low creak of rubber, spoked wheels, rolling slowly upon the tile floor. A peek below the partition confirmed his fears: and they were coming nearer. There was no escape, he soon realized, no dignified way to fix this situation. Hearing the deliberately audible sigh, beyond the aluminum wall, struck him finally down.

He’d never use the handicapped stall again.

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