She hired me because I could blend in. No one noticed me at the supermarkets, the doctor’s office, the deli—I was invisible to the human brain, a simple blank space.
Perfect, she said, and I started right away.
Halloween season started in September, but no one really packed the lines at the haunted house attractions until October, and when they did, the lines stretched for literal miles. People would show up at 6:00 p.m. and those same people wouldn’t see the inside of the attraction until 2:00 in the morning. It was maddening, I’m sure, but they came back year after year.
And, of course, this particular haunted house was only growing in fame. Every year, heart attacks took at least one victim, sometimes up to five, and the terror that killed them only drew in more fear-hungry patrons, like flies to water to drown in.
And there was me, amidst it all, standing in the corner and not even trying to hide, and I never had to. Some would scream, some wouldn’t, it didn’t matter. They paid, they survived, they bought a t-shirt that tells the whole story.
But, one evening, I noticed something peculiar.
The smoke break was at 10:15, and the haunt workers had until 10:17 to see how many darts they could kill before the manager came calling. And as I watched them pulling at the cigarettes, muttering to each other about the fat, smelly dude who never jumped, or the little girl who ran off with a worker’s iPhone, I wanted badly to join them.
I was upstairs, looking out of the window by my corner, staring at the glowing cherries on the balcony below me. I licked my lips, imagining the sweet tobacco zing.
“Mark, you getting along?”
I pulled my face back from the glass.
“Yes, ma’am,” I said. “Thinking of taking up a bad habit actually.”
The manager, Shelly, scrunched her eyebrows at me.
“You know, you’re the only worker here who listens to what I say. Gets real old, but having you here makes me finally not feel invisible,” she said, looking through the window at the rough set of folk below, the finest Halloween crew in a half-mile radius. “Don’t get involved with them.” “No, I get it, Shelly. I have enough vices, anyway.” I smiled weakly at her, and she put her hand on my shoulder before drifting away into the faint glow of the flickering, battery-powered candlelight.
The night resumed, and I kept doing my job until well after 3:00. As I helped turn off lights and power down the animatronic demons, Shelly approached again.
“Mark,” she said. “I guess one of the breakers flipped in the basement. The girls are afraid to walk to their cars because the parking lot light is out.”
“Want me to walk them?” I offered, but she shook her head.
“Uhh, no. But flipping the breaker would be great,” she said dryly before returning to the dark hallway.
“Of course,” I said to no one, hitting my forehead with the palm of my hand. “Stupid, stupid.”
The basement was two stories down, and I knew it pretty well, even in the dark.
“Want me to walk them?” I said mockingly, navigating the steps and running my hand along the wall as I made my way to the breaker box.
But, just above me, I heard the crew talking while they waited for the return of the light.
One of the girls was talking, and suddenly I heard mention of my corner.

“I think most people were really scared,” she began. “But they said the second story was the worst part.”
“Really?” a male voice chimed in. “It’s all animatronics. Why do we even try?”
“I did hear a lot of screams from up there,” another kid said. “Those animatronics are pretty good nowadays.”
They don’t even know that I work here! I said to myself, my finger hovering over the flipped breaker, but I waited, listening for more.”
“No,” the original girl said. “They said it was the hallway up there. Right before they got to the ‘Doctor from Hell’ room.”
“Isn’t that hallway empty? It’s meant to build suspense for the next jump scare.”
“Yeah, but they said something was in the corner. Like screaming at them silently, like an energy or something.”
I flipped the breaker, having heard enough. They saw the light flick on in the parking lot and muttered quietly to each other as they filed through the doorway, leaving the haunted house for the night.
I stood at the breaker box for a moment. I wanted to quit. Nobody, not even the patrons, realized I was in the corner. Why are they paying me if I’m essentially not there?
I walked up the steps, looking for Shelly.
She was at the exit, holding her bag.
“Thanks Mark!” she said, smiling and patting me on the shoulder.
“No problem,” I said quietly.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said, pushing the door open.
“Shelly, can I ask you something?”
The door swung back a little as she frowned slightly.
“Sure thing, shoot.”
“Do I need to be here? Is this a pity hire or something? Nobody actually knows that I work here at all,” I blurted out, feeling my face turn red.
“You’re a pro, Mark. They know you’re here. Hell, you’ve always been here,” she said, waving and walking out the door to the parking lot.
I stood still for a moment.
Always been here?
The next night, I had a plan. I avoided the second floor altogether, like anyone would notice, and instead camped out in the first floor hallway. There were a few girls hiding under a table at one end where they would reach out and grab the legs of passing customers, a bit that I thought was a bit overdone and obvious. But at the other end of the hallway was a man in a cage that would break free just as the customers were exiting the room, chasing them up the stairs to the second floor.
And I was between them, waiting for the opportunity to rattle someone’s nerves.
They soon came flooding in, and most passed the attractions with nervous giggles and half-hearted screams, but some would pause, just where I was standing. But then they would continue, and the laughing would resume along with the antagonistic screams from the workers. In the middle of the night, there was an extended break, and I followed the workers down the stairs to the parking lot entrance.

“What’s going on?” someone asked.
“A memorial for the manager that was murdered a year ago. Some angry customer or something.”
Other’s muttered, saying they knew her and thought she was so good at her job, and when everyone was in the parking lot for a word from old friends and family, Shelly appeared beside me.
“Heavy, huh,” she asked. “Same old story, though.”
I looked at her for a moment, a thought popping into my head.
“Did you know her, Shelly?”
She didn’t answer for a moment, then nodded her head.
“I knew her. Didn’t like her much,” she said, and the parking lot entrance opened and shut, and she was gone.
The workers resumed their jobs, and I maintained my silent protest on the first floor throughout the night, making a young girl cry at one point. Typically, that would be in bad taste, but I knew that she could see me and I couldn’t help but scream and jump to get a rise.
The parents shivered and scuttled along, covering her eyes and whispering into her ear.
At the end of the night, I was turning off the lights once again, and Shelly met me at the door. “You do good tonight?” she asked.
“Better,” I smiled at her.
She nodded, smiling.
“I’m thinking of leaving this place,” she said plainly, staring into my eyes. “Find something better maybe.”
I looked at her for a moment, then nodded.
“You deserve it, Shelly,” I said. “You’ve made this place so great.”
“It isn’t great!” she said. “We’re not meant to stay here forever.”
There was a long silence and I just looked at the floor.
Then she spoke again.
“I’m not coming back. You shouldn’t either. It’s time to move on, Mark.” She went out the door, and I knew that I wouldn’t see her again.
I finished turning off the lights and powering down the animatronics, taking a seat on the fourth floor like I usually would do, and just sat enjoying the quiet.
Tomorrow will be even better, I thought to myself. They’ll finally see me tomorrow.