First time tuning in? Start here.

When last we saw our protagonist, they were boldly approaching the mausoleum to complete one of the few things expected of them: dust and sweep. You can catch up with Part XXVI here. I’ll not tease you with what happens; read on with caution, dear friends. What the Groundskeeper comes face to face with in the mausoleum is unexpected, threatening the very boldness with which they arrived. Will they survive what they confront? Let’s find out.

The mausoleum looms over me as I approach. I don't remember it feeling this ominous the last time—I was literally just here, maybe what, two hours ago?—but there it is, looming and ominous and very much giving me the heebie jeebies before I've even opened the doors. There’s no going back, though. I'm determined to do this damn job, even if it kills me, and so far, this cemetery has done everything it can to do exactly that. Well, I'm not going down without a fight. Looming and ominous be damned, I walk up to the doors and throw them open.

I take my first step inside and pause, waiting for the skittering to rise up and come barreling after me, but I hear nothing. The silence lies heavy over the marble. So heavy, I would use it as a blanket against the freezing temperatures inside if I could. I start to make my way to the center. Since there are two entrances, each on opposite sides, I decide to sweep from the middle out one way, and then do the same in the other direction. The place is big, but I got a big ol' push broom and a whole lot of gumption.

I'm about halfway to the center when the oppressive silence starts to get to me. A whole lot of gumption, I repeat to myself over and over again, as if this mantra will carry me through and keep me going strong. It does not. With each step that brings me closer to the center, I feel smaller, colder, more afraid than the last, until I'm ready to run back out at the slightest disruption. As if the mausoleum can sense this, I hear the sounds of light skittering coming from far up ahead. Just one entity scratching and skittering. Quiet, but very much there.

Shivering from both the cold and my fear, I spin the broom so the long bar of brushes are over me and I hold it forth. "I am the bane of all dust." I whisper this to myself as much as to the dust around me. This gives me a little comfort, makes me feel a little better. I say it again, a little louder.

"I am the bane of all dust."

I'm almost to the center, and the dust around me is picking up, eddies swirling, as skittering sounds rise from everywhere.

"I am the bane of all dust."

Louder again. Not a whisper, but as if I'm talking to the broom. The skittering becomes louder. More of the dust is disturbed. More of it waking, rising, whirling. I continue forward.

"I am the bane of all dust."

Louder now. Not conversational, but as if I'm calling to a friend from across the street. The skittering multiplies. Where there were but a few of these invisible spider things, there are now many. I'm almost to the elevator.

"I am the bane of all dust!"

Louder and louder. No longer calling to a friend across the street, but challenging the samurai from across the battlefield. I approach the elevator and stop short, turning to face the skittering, which has grown from many to a multitude. The whirling eddies are closing in. A brave dust bunny leaps from the group closest to me and I swing the broom into it, breaking up the dust in a billowing poof.

"I AM THE BANE OF ALL DUST!"

Nothing is held back. The invisible spider things, dressed in dust, all charge forward. Terror grips me for a moment, but I am the one with the broom, and I have seen I can defeat these things. Gripping the handle tightly, I swing the broom around like a bat, breaking apart the closest things. Those behind are pushed back from the force of the swing, but this doesn't stop them. Without pause, they take up their charge forward. With a scream, I launch into my own charge, sweeping the broom back and forth, breaking up eddies and pushing the things back farther. They refuse to let up, and I refuse to back down. They surround me, and I spin, sending the broom in a great arc, batting the eddies apart, breaking apart their attacks.

"WATCH AS I CRUSH YOUR SPIRIT FRIENDS, AND THEN FEAR MY WRATH AS I COME TO CRUSH YOU."

I am a death machine. I am the rolling, turning, tumbling, beast of destruction. No invisible skittering monster stands a chance against the brutal creature I have become in this moment.

"YOU THOUGHT TO OVERWHELM ME?! AND NOW IT IS I WHO OVERWHELMS YOU."

Such arrogance. Such hubris. But I was on a roll and I was not about to stop and consider for a moment if how I was acting was appropriate. To stop would let the heaviness and fear settle in again, and I could not allow it. This place only needed the one thing, fear, and it would crush me. I swatted and beat away every dust bunny and whirling eddy I found. In moments, I came to realize I had broken them all up. There was no more skittering. There were no more threats.

I walked back to the center and began to sweep up, humming to myself, pushing all the dust toward the doors at either end.

Well, truly unexpected, yes? It seems that after all our protagonist has dealt with, this was quite tame. Yes, tame indeed. Is this a prelude to the remainder of the Groundskeeper’s first shift? Or is this naught more than the eye in the storm, a momentary reprieve before the finality and ferocity of the storm strikes? Only one way to find out! Read Part XXVIII here.

Are you enjoying the story so far? Please consider sharing this with someone you think will enjoy it as well! After all, things tend to be much more enjoyable when you can experience them with acquaintances, coworkers, friends, and loved ones.