The Death Of Cats

Nevis looked at the box in the corner of the stock room. This was the famous box that everyone had been talking about. Since he had joined the small printing firm Nevis had thought people were generally quite friendly but nothing to write home about. Today at lunch however, was the first time anyone had mentioned the box. Laura had been the first to tell Nevis about this thing that the rest of the staff had neglected to mention to him before, yet they all seemed to hold with a certain amount of reverence, or maybe a slight amount of fear.

As soon as Laura had mentioned the box to Nevis everyone in the staff room had had a different reaction. Some people went pale; others had made nervous laughter or tried to get Laura to avoid the subject, whilst others just dismissed the thing all together. James had said the story was all a load of bollocks. Nevis finally felt he was being accepted with all the rest of the work people. He had wanted to go out to the pub with them for drinks on a Friday afternoon but never had been invited. Now he was being told about something that they all knew about. The paranoid part of Nevis’ brain said that Laura could be winding him up but the look of excitement in her eyes didn’t seem to have any signs of deception in them.

Laura had told Nevis that the box had always been here and as with every high street business there is always a high turn over of staff but no one had ever taken this box or claimed it as their own, customer or employee. James had told her the very same story once even though he now dismissed it. No one knew how the box had got here and yet no one (so far as she knew) had ever opened it.

As Laura started telling the story more people in the staff room began chipping in with information. All that was on the box were some initials. It was just a small thing, it didn’t really stand out from anything apart from the fact everyone knows about it. Nevis wanted to know about the initials. Some said that they weren’t initials they were just letters. Laura said they were the initials Q.C. Adrian said they actually stood for Quality Control. Nevis asked Adrian why he hadn’t ever opened the box if he thought it was just something as innocuous as quality control. Adrian imparted to Nevis his experience of the box. Laura chipped in that everyone has an experience with the box.

Adrian said that when he first started working at the firm Squidink there were different people working there (he was one of those people who actually enjoyed working in retail) and when he was first told about the box he went and found it within the stock room. It was sitting where it usually is now within the room. As he originally approached it he had the intention to open the box up but then Adrian lost his nerve to – if no one else had opened the thing up why should he? He left it alone. But because he didn’t open it all throughout that day Adrian had the nagging sensation that he needed to open the box. Just because no one else had, that didn’t mean that he should not be the first person to see what is inside.

At the end of the working day Adrian snuck back in to the stock room. The box was nowhere to be seen. He walked further in and shut the door behind him. His eyes scanned around for the box but he couldn’t find it. All he could see were packets of paper and plastic binding materials. There was a crash behind Adrian and he whirled round. The box was on the floor behind him. The stock room door was still closed. No one had come in behind him, he was sure of it. He looked around and saw there were no shelves where the box could have fallen from, and he was sure no one had come in and moved the box. Adrian walked towards the box and picked it up. He shook it like a small boy would when trying to figure out what his presents consist of under the Christmas tree but there was no sound. Adrian decided to put the box back on a shelf. He walked out the room a little faster than he wanted too but his legs seem to be in charge of this quick exit.

Nevis let out a small whistle that Adrian took to be sarcastic. Nevis had to assure him it certainly wasn’t. Another person chipped in. Her name was Maxeen. She had a recollection that once she picked up the box and it seemed to be generating so much heat it burnt the palm of her hands. Maxeen had made a trip to the stockroom to collect some more binding materials and as she walked in there was a blast of heat that hit her. She said it was like when you get into a car when it had been sitting in the sun all day. As she moved towards where the binding materials were perched, she saw the box was not where it should be. The heat in the stockroom was stifling and claustrophobic. She explained that in the summer the stockroom was always bad but never usually this bad. She would have to have words with the manager. Also as Maxeen was particularly anal she had to put the box back to where it should be. She picked up the box and then the searing pain shot through her hands and up her arms and seemed to burn the synapses in her brain. This acute pain was like something she had never felt before. Maxeen dropped the box and watched it fall to the ground with tears in her eyes. As soon as the box had been dropped the heat stopped. Maxeen ran out of the room with her hands in the safety of her armpits. She showed Nevis the burn. As she put her hands together palm upwards towards Nevis he could make out the scarred outline of the box. She said she never wants to go near the box again. She told the then manager about it but he didn’t believe her story. Maxeen never goes in the stockroom now. She just stays on the till.

Gradually the people in the cramped staffroom started telling their stories about the box. All of them seemed strange but none of them seemed to link up with each other.

Laura’s own story was whenever she went into the stockroom and saw the box she would always get the most disgusting whiff of something rotting. Whenever she pulled other people in to see if they could also smell anything strange no one ever could. Laura told Nevis sometimes the stench was over powering but no one else would ever smell it and suddenly one day it went. There was never any explanation for it. Nevis just shook his head in wonder. This was stupid. He wanted to believe what they were saying but he pictured himself as one of life’s victims. Were they laughing at him?

Nevis stood in front of the box. Were they laughing at him? If they were, no one would know that he had checked the box out for himself and if they were telling the truth then he was sure he would be able to join in with the stories. No one had seen him sneak into the stockroom. Nevis stared at the box and it looked back at him. There were the letters. Q.C. Quality Control. He licked his lips. His heart was beating a little too fast for his liking. Nevis reached towards the box and picked it up. Nothing so far had happened to him. Nevis suddenly thought he heard a low humming – could be the air conditioning. He chose a key from his staff regulated choice of keys to ink cupboards and ran the edge of it along the tape that secured the box. The yellowed tape split open easily. The humming was getting louder. Nevis turned round but nobody was there. He looked at the box. It stared back at him. Its mouth now split open and free. Ready to tell Nevis the secrets. The humming was now completely around Nevis. He wanted to put the box down and run back into the safety of the store but he didn’t. Nevis wondered if anyone else could hear the humming. Nevis swallowed the lump in his throat. His feet were now part of the concrete floor beneath him; cold and immoveable.

Nevis opened the box.