(Page 1 of 3) Stan The Man by Benjamin Soto
 (7 ratings)
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SUMMARY: Stan is a mild mannered worker doing the jobs most people don't notice, or even look down upon. One day someone starts killing the people Stan knows. Once the truth is revealed Stan is left with a terrifying choice.The name they gave me when I was born is Stanley. Stan for short. When I was growing up the kids in school used to call me Stan the man. I hated it, but they called me it anyway. It's not surprising that the same nickname found its way into my current job, or any other job I've ever had. People just seem to think it's funny, or clever. I never did. It really loses its novelty after you hear it a thousand times.
I started a new job cleaning offices downtown only a couple of weeks ago. It's a nice enough job that pays decent. I take out the garbage, clean up the offices, mop, dust, and all that stuff. I was just getting comfortable again. So much time passed since the last time that I never thought it would happen again. It's probably what he wanted me to think. I had to quit my last job because of him. I had to move because of him I don't even know how many times.
My last job was the longest lasting one I ever had. I pretty much did the same thing I'm doing now but in another city. I won't bore you with all the details, but I pretty much cleaned. I did the work that most well to do people look down on. Most employees in the office see me but they don't really see me. Most of them don't even say good morning back to you if you say it to them all nice and whatnot. People are so rude, especially people in fancy suits who are always running around with their expresso drinks making deals and whatnot. But Kara was different than the rest of those stuck up I'm better than you types.
I enjoyed cleaning her office the most. It always smelled like her and that's such a nice smell. I can smell it even now. I know that sounds weird, but she always smelled real good. She took good care of herself. The pictures she had of her and her family always showed her being so happy. I loved that about her. She always smiled to me and said good morning before I even got a chance to. She'd just beat me to it every single time. And then she'd ask about me, and I'd quickly fill her in. I'd ask about her, and she would let me know. She was always so nice and so beautiful. The nicest dark brown hair you could ever lay your eyes on too. Just perfect, along with those eyes. Those blue eyes that were always so sincere...
One morning she didn't bother coming in. I noticed right away and thought it was kind of funny. That same day I had a horrible headache and I blacked out that night like I often do. I took it as a bad sign but let it be. The morning after that she didn't come in either. And then a week went by. People started to get real worried. Eventually a detective came in asking everybody all kinds of questions about who saw her last, where she was, and did she have any known enemies? They skipped right over me. I guess that's the great thing about being me. Nobody ever notices you. Nobody bothers to. To these people I'm just a prop; a thing. I clean the place they go to work to every single day. To them I don't have a real job. I'm just part of the facility. A lucky stiff who gets to be the perk of making sure there offices are nice so they don't have to.
Anyway, that's when he first contacted me.
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