But then one day, the daily emails started to get weird. "I don't like it when you wear your hair up," it said. Carla looked around quickly, as though to catch the writer of the emails in the act, but of course all she saw was her fellow day traders going about their business. Slowly, hesitantly, she began to take her hair down. It was a weird message to receive, and really over the line, but she had come to depend on these inexplicable, anonymous emails that told her which stocks to buy and which stocks to sell, emails that had been responsible for her spectacular success over the past three months, making her clients (and therefore her) insane returns. She had paid off her mortgage. She had bought a new car. She was better-dressed, well-rested, practically glowing. And so she took her hair down.

In retrospect, she saw that that had been a turning point. Now emails still contained stock tips -- just enough to keep her hooked -- but now they said other things, like "Don't wear those shoes again" or "Skip lunch." She obeyed. "Don't go to happy hour. Go straight home." She obeyed. They started to accelerate in frequency: instead of only once a day, now she got them almost every hour, dictating her entire life. She broke up with her boyfriend. She stopped calling her mom. It got so that she didn't do anything without consulting her email first. Could she go out to lunch? Maybe -- she had to check. No, sorry, not today. The whole situation made her feel terrified at first, and then resentful, and then relieved. Wasn't it better to just give it all up like this? Is this what people meant when they said to put their trust in God?

He wasn’t sure if he would ever be ok. And he was ok with that.

The tips got weirder. More specific.

At first he welcomed them, but as time went on, he began to wonder if he would be better off without them altogether.

What he didn’t know, was that things were about to get a lot more twisted.

“Haven’t you ever heard of a day job?” Dad asked. “Listen to me. Take this job. See how it goes. Make some money until your singing career takes off. Do this for me. Please.”

So here I was, sitting at an actual desk, in an actual office, wearing an actual skirt—an infuriatingly uncomfortable skirt. I grabbed the edge of my pencil skirt and tried to move it into a more comfortable position. Then, I quickly dropped my hand when I saw my new boss walk into his office.

“Wilhelmina!” he exclaimed with a big smile. “Welcome. I know you are going to love it here at S. K. C. J. Z. X. & Y.”

I wanted to say, ‘What a mouthful.’ Instead, I said, “Thank you for the opportunity.” And I forced a smile onto my face.

After getting me this job without my asking for it and convincing me to take this job, Dad trained me relentlessly on how to act when I got to this job, on what to say and what to do to keep this job.

I didn’t have the heart to remind my dad that I was only taking this job as a favor to him. I could be spending this time writing songs and practicing singing them. I didn’t care how long it took to make money at singing or how poor I became in the process. I didn’t care if I ended up living in my car and singing on the streets for spare change.

But Dad cared.

And I guess it meant a lot to me that he did.

I settled into my day job at S. K. C. J. Z. X. & Y. fairly quickly. I got used to being in an office. Though, I opted to wear slacks after that first day in the uncomfortable skirt.

But also, on that first day, something strange happened to me.

I found a note stuck to my desk chair.

The note read, “Take the initiative. Ask Oliver for his list of calls.”

I assumed my boss Oliver had written this note for me and complied by asking for his list of calls, but he seemed genuinely astonished and pleased when I asked.

Every day, when I got to work, I found a new sticky note on my desk chair. And every day, I followed the instructions on the sticky note and received positive results from my boss Oliver who was thrilled with my ability to read his mind and to know what he needed me to do before he asked me to do it.

By the end of the first week at my day job, Oliver said, “Wilhelmina, you are the best assistant I have ever had.”

But the second week at my day job, the sticky notes began to ask for me to do work-related tasks after my time in the office. These tasks cut into the time that I had set aside for my songwriting and singing practice.

And the third week at my day job, the sticky notes began to ask for me to stop spending my time writing songs and practicing singing. The notes told me that I could really excel at this job if I gave this job 100%.

And on the fourth week at my day job, I marched to Oliver’s desk, holding the sticky notes in my hand.

“Oliver,” I said. “This has to stop.” I dropped the sticky notes on his desk.

“What is this?” Oliver asked.

“Haven’t you been leaving these notes?”

“No,” Oliver said. He examined the sticky notes. “But I recognize the hand writing…” Oliver dropped the notes.

“Who is it?” I demanded.

Oliver shook his head.

“Is it… my dad?” I asked.

As I was leaving the office, I called Dad.

“Dad,” I said. “I want you to know that I just quit my day job! And that I know it was you who has been writing me all of those notes!”

I said some things to Dad that I wish I’d never said. Then, I hung up on him.

Later that day, Oliver called me. He said that he knew I was upset and had quit in the heat of the moment. He said that I was still the best assistant he had ever had. He said I could have another chance if I wanted it.

I didn’t.

But I did want a second chance with someone else.

I made up with Dad.

“Look, Dad,” I said. “I think you are right about the day job, so I’m going to find one, but it’s going to be one that I find and that I can do while still pursuing the career that I want.”

Dad admitted that maybe he shouldn’t have been leaving me notes at work. He had hoped the assistant job would become more than a day job to me.

We had a good talk, and I don’t think he’ll ever find me a job again. And if he did, I think I would turn it down this time. Our relationship is more important.

I found another job that didn’t take too much time. And I didn’t make too much money either. But I did write a lot of songs.

Notes saying Robert aced each task at work were great at first. He basked in the glory that came with notes that said he was the best Courtesy Associate his Walmart had ever seen. It’s not often he was noticed for anything. The change of pace filled him with energy each morning; waking up with purpose put a spring in his step. And then he found a note on his bed. It read “Great work out there today, I loved it.”

He took the note as a silly joke. One of his coworkers put it there. What a laugh! he told himself. He went downstairs to get something to drink, opened the refrigerator door, and saw another one on the oat milk. “Make sure to drink up! We can’t have you running dry on the job.”

He lurched back. “Hey! If you’re still here, not funny. What kind of person goes through a man’s fridge?”

He took out the oat milk, shook his head in disbelief, and went to get a glass. Another note, right on the glass he usually used. “Hey handsome, meet me outside if you want a reward.”

He locked all the doors. He went back to the kitchen; poured a glass of milk. About halfway through, he saw another note on the window. “If you won’t come out to play, I might come in.” Just then, he heard glass brake in the upstairs bathroom. He ran to grab a baseball bat by the door. Bat in hand, he went upstairs. The bathroom was empty with glass on the floor from the window.

A womanly voice came from behind him. “Hey there, sweet stuff. You can bring the bat if you want, but I’m not sure we’ll have use for it.”

He turned, but before he could see who it was his vision started to blur.

“How did I know you’d still drink the oat milk?”

He took a step and tried to swing the bat, but fell, his body going numb.

The woman stood over him. “Another attention starved male. Don’t worry, I know how to treat a hard working man.”

He woke in a trunk, bound and gagged. The hum of the wheels against the road let him know they were going somewhere. After hours, he found the car to stop.

The hood opened to a face he knew all too well. A lady who worked in the deli seemed to like him at work. He’d never thought much of it, but now she was staring down at him.

“You know, I do like you. The question is if I can get you to like me.”

A girl named Michelle works at a shop called Waters Love. She just started working there, and it is the most difficult job that she has ever worked. Usually, she figures out the job in a week or two at most, but it’s been a month and a half, and she still has no clue what she’s doing. But then one day, she gets a coffee delivered to her during her lunch. The note gives her advice on how to do her job, and she thinks, “what do I have to do lose, I might as well try it out.” So she tries it out, and to her surprise, it actually worked. She started getting more compliments from the customers and her managers and bosses. She thought nothing of it and just how it was sweet someone gave her a compliment. Then, the next day, she got another note.

Zoey: Brooklynn was about to start 10th grade and in her family when they get to that age they must get a job. So when she starts her application it was getting a little late and she was still stuck she looks at her phone the clock reads 2:57 am, “Dang it’s getting late!” Brooklyn sighed, when she it about to go to sleep she heard a ding.

     Averey:

Brooklyn grabbed her phone, and read the message. ALLISON: Your going to the party tomorrow right? BROOKLYN: No, I’m spending tomorrow applying for jobs. Allison never responded, probably super angry. Finally pulling the blanket over herself, she couldn’t get jobs off her mind. And surprisingly she picked up her laptop and began working on her resume. Her stomach growled, but it was way too late—or early to eat. She didn’t want to wake her parents or her younger sister, Zoe.

    Zoey: 

She decides that she has school in the morning and try’s to go to sleep Ding! She groans and rolls over to looks at the text message Unknown:You can put any school reward on your resume for your information! She stares at the text confused who it was from but just ignores and goes to sleep.

   Averey:

Little did she know she would get 3 more messages all saying the same thing around 6:00 am. Unknown: You can put any school reward on your resume for your information! Almost every hour she got this text. Ignoring it, she got ready for school. She was exhausted from working on her resume. As she opened her laptop she saw a message. Accounting message: Brooklyn: “You’ve been excepted into “Accounting.co” please come in for an interview this Saturday!” The most terrifying thing about this message was that she had never applied to an accounting firm.

      Zoey:

She was very confused and called her “new boss” and asked about the new job. He says that, “You turned her application in at 3:15 am.”

     Averey:

Terrified, Brooklyn rushed to school, her laptop was shoved into her bag and then lifted into her locker. After school, she stopped by the address of the accounting firm. Only to see that from a distance there was a man, he was old, and holding a knife. She could tell this was the “owner of the accounting firm.” She would’ve been dead if she had walked any farther.

{HEHEHEHE!!!}

Organic free range eggs,18 bone broth for Sweetie hot dogs

Natalie considered her list in self checkout line. Imagine having to cash yourself out and waiting in line to do it. She thumbed through the magazine racks. Who would have thunk it? Natalie thought, I remember when they had real cashiers and magazines. A fluffy ginger kitten hanging from a tree smiled up at her. It was a mindfulness journal.

Planner: New opportunities are just around the corner, dearie.

Randy used to call me that, Natalie said with a secret smile and she slipped the planner into her shopping bag.

“Too much salt. Are you figuring on killing me? Dr. Downey said I was supposed to be on a low sodium diet and you hear you come with devil food.”

“Ma you told me to get you hot dogs. You told me you need flavor,” Natalie called over her shoulder from the kitchen.

“This is why Timmy doesn’t visit. You don’t listen to no body.. You’re a mess Natty. Look at the place. I’m going to be on the news burnt to death in a fire. God save me. Sweetie get off the dining table before I smack your tail!”

“Timmy doesn’t visit because he’s a lazy asshole who doesn’t want to hear your bullcrap,” Natalie muttered opening a can of baked beans.

Planner: Laugh and the world laughs with you. Cry and you cry alone.

Bleach and pine tar, the Baptist Sunrise Health Center smelled bright and clean at least the lobby was. With a deep cleansing breath, Natalie tucked her kitten planner into her nursing bag. A few patients stared ahead blankly. Natalie’s dream was to be a nurse to help people. It was all she every wanted. Pine Sol, air freshener, adult diapers, she jotted down a list of grocery in her kitten planner.

Things had been tense. Ma took bad and needed round the clock care. Friends and close friend members all melted away when Ma’s care stretched from days to months. That meant late nights and doctor’s appointments. Most night she could turn her brain off to sleep. Each morning was a sternum rub and Natalie slept walked through each day

“Natalie no one is accusing you of any wrongdoing. Baptist Sunrise is a family and we stand behind our team members. Most facilities are phrasing out LPNsWe are just looking at the best fit, Natalie.”

“I know there is gossip. Women don’t like me. It’s not my fault. I didn’t hurt those people I don’t know why are we have had more codes during my shifts. Nobody can say I don’t do my best everyday,” Natalie said.

Her voice grew shrill. Nurse Supervisor McCall looked as if Natalie had a bad smell. McCall glanced down at her phone while Natalie sobbed. They couldn’t do this to her. No one could lie on her name and take away her dream. No, no. Hot angry tears spilled on Natalie’s scrubs. Handing Natalie a Kleenex, McCall made sympathetic noises.

“Natalie we know that you have a lot on your plate with your mother’s illness and we will feel you this adjustment makes sense,” McCall said kindly without looking up from her phone. My son is going away to college and I’m all over the place. So I understand. Believe me.”

Planner: They are always watching.

Damn straight. Natalie looked up from the kitten planner. She had written her new dialysis department schedule in the planner in purple ink. The other nurses stopped talking when Natalie walked into the treatment center. Pink faced Natalie made a beeline for the maintenance closet. Locked. She jiggled the door handle. Hot tears threatened as a giggly Sheila walked up behind Natalie and keyed in the passcode.

Rolling with a squeaky, the bucket of hot water and cleanser was unwieldy. Even through her mask her eyes stung twitching from the bitter chemicals. By the end of day, damp circles of sweat pooled under her arms and between her thighs. Chafed raw, Natalie climbed into her house just wanted to eat a sandwich, give Ma her pills, and go to sleep.

She handed Ma a store-bought Cobb salad. Natalie liked to make things from scratch. Mewing, Sweetie scratched at her tennis shoes. The house reeked of kitty litter and diaper pails. Something sticky leaked down the kitchen cabinet.

“I said I wanted a hot sausage not rabbit food,” Ma said shoving the bowl away, “What’s that smell? This is why you can keep a man. You’re messy.”

Planner: Be precise and just use a syringe.

Sleep drunk, Natalie poured the concentrated bleach into its measuring cup. She had Ma’s syringes in her pocket. The viscous liquid filled the syringe. Gently she tapped the plastic to get rid of air bubbles and then chuckled at herself. She replaced the cap.

“Good morning, beautiful. Remember if you find someone without a smile, give them on of yours,” Bradley said from his comfort chair.

Grey scant curls and coke bottle glasses, Mr. Bradley once a hearty man was melting away from chemotherapy but his charm was immortal. Checking his IV, Natalie bent beside him and inserted the filled syringe. Bradley watched Natalie’s bottom and winked at Mrs Shenkman in the next chair. Humming, she returned to wiping the hospital grade plastic furniture with hot disinfectant.

“Beautiful, I feel a chill. Did somebody open a door?”

“I have a nice warm blanket right here. Don’t hesitate to call me if you need any little thing. Mr. Bradley,” Natalie said, “I’m here to help you.”

In New York 1999 at a Pizza Place, Bion kept receiving notes on how to get better money from someone he didn’t know but almost every second another one came and it was hard to do his job. So when he got home from his job he tried to stop it but it wouldn’t work. The next day he went to the police about it and they got to it as soon as possible. The first place the police looked was the mall. Then they looked at the apartments. The last place they looked was the Pizza Place. Then Bion saw one of the cops on his computer hacking. He told the other officer and then the cop that hacked Bion got arrested.Now Bion did his job normal this time not taking information from someone else.THE END

“She has a knife in her drawer,” the random email said. I didn’t question it. I stood up and bolted towards the door. “Hey,” Carey yelled, “Will you grab me a coffee from the lounge.” “Um, sure, ya, no problem,” I said trying to sound like I didn’t think I was about to get killed. But I had no intention of coming back. Ever. And I wasn’t about to go home either. I was just going to run.

(A bit of prompt)

My mind it taking over It said

• are you sure your doing that right

• that looks bad

• why would u say that

• do better

• what’s with your face

• your nose is big -you can’t draw

• help -that outfit is horrible Help

Aaaaaaaaa

My mind is taken over