Halloween Story Challenge: Michael Noble

A Permanent Answer

Caruthers Schroederman entered through the only door of the room, the same one we came through beforehand. All of us conversed about each other's good fortune to be at the event.

"Everyone? Please ... make your way to any seat you see open and make yourselves comfortable. We'll commence shortly ..."

The man was a tall swallow of water and a clear presence of command. All of us knew controversy surrounded the man, from the suspect work management he employed on through to the shady, rumored hunches of how he got so far up the corporate ladder sans any extraneous support other than what he'd manufactured alone.

That's exactly why everyone wanted a morsel of the guy. Well ... that and the fact he never gave anyone so much as a peek of who he actually was. Never before had there been a one-on-one talk, a personal statement, a dependable expose, zero. Thus, the allure was hard to bypass when word got out about "the announcement" he was to present. Out of the blue news bureaus everywhere reported he would offer a one-off conference held at a secret locale a few days hence and << BOOM >> a request shows up at my outlet ... and for me and me alone to attend.

Fast forward to the present: He'd gathered a pretty notable assortment of correspondents and newspaper people to hear what he had to say. The room was packed - probably a couple hundred of us were present - ready for what very well could be the scoop of the season.

"All of you have been summoned here for one reason and one reason only," he began once he took the front of the room. "One of you has garnered the secret to my success. And that's unacceptable. You people have hounded me for years to get my "story." Apparently, one supposedly clever sole stumbled on what's been kept constantly out of reach from the masses. That stops here."

Schroederman began to pace slowly back toward the door at the front of the room.

"No one knows where you are currently, not your bosses, not your fellow colleagues, no one. Not even your spouses or what have you. That was a calculated move on my part. Because, shortly, all of you are about to breathe your last.

"That's because seventy-pound sharpened metal rods from above the canopy of the room where you have congregated start to descend randomly over the next hour or so at speeds you cannot hope outrun. You won't know when one appears; once a rod starts to fall you won't have a chance to dodge out of the way. The razor-sharp ends of the rod? They eventually reach you. Some sooner, some, torturously, a great deal later. Each rod can perforate your skulls and cleave you through to the exact spot where you stand or wherever you run. They may show you mercy and put you to death at once. Or ... they could tear a shoulder or separate the lower half of your leg as you flee to try and save yourselves. You won't know from one second to the next when the next rod descends or when your number comes up."


We were shocked, glued to our seats, awestruck. He reached for and opened the door and walked through. "No more meddlesome assaults about who Caruthers Schroederman purports to be or how he conducts company employment or personal concerns ... EVER!"

The door closed.


That's when we heard the sound of a metal rod descend, followed by screams ...


Michael Noble