Many Stories, Signed in Print

Grab a chair, hush your thoughts, and meet Bor Edom, the most dreaded ghost of workplace cubicle.

No one knows who Bor Edom was, but everyone at the office swears he haunts it.

Legend says Bor Edom once worked here back when cases were plentiful and coffee was strong enough to wake the dead. He was a tireless processor of files, a fearless stapler of documents, a man who believed in productivity the way monks believe in silence. Then one day, the cases stopped. One by one. Fewer emails. Fewer tasks. More waiting. More blinking at the screen.

Bor Edom waited too long.

They say he began counting things. Ceiling tiles. Keyboard keys. The hums in the fluorescent lights. Eventually he stopped speaking altogether, except to whisper, “Any new cases?” into the void. One afternoon, he leaned back in his chair, sighed, and quietly faded into a cubicle shadow. The office kept running. Bor Edom did not.

Now his ghost roams the halls.

You can feel him when the inbox stays empty too long. The air gets stale. The printer makes a sad cough. Your coffee goes cold faster than it should. Somewhere, a chair creaks even though no one sat down. That is Bor Edom, checking on you.

Sometimes he stands behind bored employees and whispers terrible thoughts.

“You could alphabetize that.”
“You could reorganize the paperclips.”
“You could stare at the wall and think about every life choice.”

He does not want you to suffer. He just wants company.

I swear I saw him the other day hovering near my cubicle, staring at my portable fan like it was forbidden magic. His ghostly eyes drifted toward my books, At the Coffee Shop of Curiosities and The Hiking Book from Hell, and for a moment, I felt pity for him. He never learned how to escape boredom. He let it take him.

Not me.

I write. I read. I drink radioactive coffee. I create sparks with my fingers. I refuse to become another office ghost.

Bor Edom can keep the empty hallways. I have stories.

And somewhere, deep in the vents, he sighs.

A world with no friction.
A mind screaming for texture.
A soul that refuses to go quiet.

Bor Edom did not fight it.
You did.

Some of you may wonder how’d he die of?
He died waiting for new cases. ☠️😲