The Cursed Printer

CHAPTER 1: THE SETUP

The morning sun weakly filtered through the grim blinds of the office space, casting long, slanted shadows across the sea of light gray cubicles. It was a dreaded Monday, the one day when the collective energy of the office felt as drained as the coffee in the communal pot: stale and tepid. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, flickering occasionally as if they were also struggling to stay awake this gawd awful morning. It was on this unpleasant morning that Jennifer Hartley, a marketing assistant with a penchant for over-caffeination, trudged through the entrance with a paper cup clutched tightly in her hand. Her long brown hair was pulled into a messy bun, and her oversized sweater acted more like a shield against the office chill than a fashion statement. As she navigated the labyrinth of cubicles, she couldn’t shake the remnants of her weekend. She spent those late nights endlessly scrolling through social media and binging a horror series that had left her more paranoid than she liked to admit. Not a good combination for Monday morning.

“Hey, Jen!” called out Dave, his voice echoing across the break room. He stood there with his friend Mike both surrounded by a small audience while Dave was animatedly recounting his latest misadventures in dating. “Did I tell you about the time I accidentally swiped right on my mother’s friend?”

Jennifer rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. “Save it for the open mic night, Dave. I need coffee, not therapy.”

“Coffee is a form of therapy!” Mike shouted back, laughter trailing in his wake.

Jennifer ignored them and finally reached her desk, wedged into the corner by a large potted plant that looked like it was plotting its own demise. Papers from last week lay strewn across her workspace, remnants of half-finished projects and hastily scribbled notes. As she plopped down in her chair, she took a breath and was relieved that she bought her own coffee instead of using that dreadful machine in the staff room. As she took a sip of her lukewarm coffee, Jennifer tried to relax but realized she soon had to get to work.

She organized her desk, shoving aside the crumbs of stale pastries and discarded wrappers, and made her workspace reasonably ready for the new work week. It was then when her gaze drifted slowly towards Old Betsy. The office’s ancient printer, Old Betsy had been in service longer than most employees. Betsy’s body adorned with ink smudges and mysterious stains told tales of countless late nights and forgotten deadlines. The Jurassic machine creaked, groaned, and started to hum as if it were being brought to life by a mad scientist. The machine made a weird clicking sound and then beeped, letting everyone know that Old Betsy was ready for Monday even if everyone else wasn’t.

“Ah, Betsy,” Jennifer muttered to herself, half-jokingly, “What kind of trouble are you brewing up for us today?”

As if on cue, Old Betsy emitted a series of low, ominous beeps. Jennifer raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. She pushed her chair back and slowly approached the printer, eyeing it warily.

“What’s your deal today, old girl?” Jennifer asked, not expecting an answer and secretly prayed it was something more benign than another paper jam.

Still, the printer shuddered and flickered, its lights blinking in a way that suggested mischief rather than a malfunction. With a hesitant hand, Jennifer pressed the button to see what would emerge. A moment later, a fresh sheet of paper slowly rolled out, and Jennifer snatched it up, her heart racing. The text was bold and striking, the words seeming to leap off the page:

YOU WILL BE TRAPPED IN A SUPPLY CLOSET BY 2 P.M.

Jennifer’s heart raced as she read the message, half-laughing, half-worried. Was this some sort of prank? A poorly executed joke from Dave and the office’s prankster brigade? The absurdity was enough to elicit a chuckle, but she felt the timing felt a little too close for comfort.

“What the hell?” Jennifer murmured to herself, shaking her head. She crumpled the paper and tossed it into the recycling bin, attempting to dismiss the unsettling feeling that was creeping into the fragile noodle between her ears.

As The morning droned on, and Old Betsy continued to spit out bizarre prints, each more outrageous than the last.

YOU WILL BREAK A FINGER IN A STAPLER ACCIDENT.

YOUR COFFEE WILL BE LACED WITH RIVALS’ TEARS.

Each prediction made Jennifer chuckle nervously but also started to make her nervous. That horror story she had binged that weekend already had her mind racing and Old Betsy wasn’t helping at this particular moment. Rather than toss them away, Jennifer had started to save the messages by placing them in a corner of her cubicle. By the time lunchtime rolled around, the air was thick with speculation. Dave had gathered a small crowd around the break room and was theatrically recounting the various absurd predictions as if they were tales from an urban legend.

“You see, folks,” Dave started, with his hands gesturing wildly for dramatic effect, “Betsy is clearly possessed, and is now a conduit of dark prophecies. I be willing to bet my next paycheck on it!”

“Yeah, well, I’d prefer to bet against my finger getting stuck in a stapler,” Margaret, the ambitious sales rep, chimed in with eyes rolling. “This is ridiculous.”

Still, a nervous energy lingered as employees exchanged glances toward Old Betsy, half-expecting her to spit out another cryptic warning. Jennifer managed to get some work done and was actually doing well that day until some jerkoff decided to interrupt her.

“Hey, Jen, are you coming to the meeting?” Dave’s called out, his voice pulling her from her thoughts. His head popped up over the cubicle wall, a smug grin plastered on his face which was the last thing she wanted to see that close on a Monday.

“Yeah, I’ll be there in a sec,” Jennifer replied, trying to shake off the unease that had been settling in throughout the day. She gathered her notes and stood up, but before she could head toward the conference room, a loud crash echoed from the supply closet down the hall. The sound reverberated through the office, freezing everyone in their tracks.

“Is someone in there?” Dave called out, his voice tinged with a mix of fear and curiosity.

Margaret, ever the assertive one, strode confidently toward the closet. “It’s probably just someone messing around,” she said dismissively, reaching for the doorknob. As she pulled the door open, an intern named Todd tumbled out, disheveled and panicked.

“I, uh, I can explain!” Todd stammered, embarrassment flooding his cheeks.

“Oh my God, Todd!” Margaret called out, her heart racing. “You gave me a fright!”

“Sorry about that,” Todd replied, glancing around the office, his face pale. “I thought I could grab some extra paper, and then the door just jammed on me!”

“Are you okay, Todd?” Jennifer asked, genuinely concerned for the young man.

“How long have you been in there?” Margaret inquired.

Todd checked the clock on the wall. “At least ten minutes.”

Dave and his group erupted in laughter, breaking the tension momentarily, but Jennifer instead felt a shiver creep down her spine. The absurdity of the situation mixed with Todd’s genuine fear left her feeling unsettled rather than amused. Even worse, one of Old Betsy’s prediction had come to fruition. It was late in the morning, and someone had locked themselves in the supply closet before two, as the printer had prophesied.

“Naw, that’s just a coincidence!” Jennifer insisted, even as doubt flickered in her mind. She then caught a glimpse of Old Betsy’s flickering lights and couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more to the printer’s antics.

As the afternoon wore on, the energy in the office shifted from playful to palpable anxiety. Old Betsy continued to churn out prints, and with each ominous beep, Jennifer felt the knot in her stomach tighten. It was as if the printer was taunting them, waiting for someone to take the bait. Margaret sighed as she checked on the door with a mix of annoyance and concern on her face.

“Great. Now we’ll have to get someone in here to fix that,” Margaret said to no one in particular, but shot a gaze over at the printer. “Thanks a lot, Betsy,”

As the day drew to a close, the tension only escalated. Employees had begun to avoid Old Betsy like the plague, glancing nervously at her as they passed by. Jennifer felt the anxiety wrapping around her like a tight band, as it was suffocating and inescapable. With each hour that ticked by, the dread settled deeper in her gut. She sat at her desk, typing furiously on her computer, but her thoughts kept drifting back to the ominous predictions and the strange aura surrounding Old Betsy. What if the printer was more than just a faulty machine? What if it really was cursed like Dave had said?

“Let’s just unplug it,” Mike finally suggested. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, his expression serious. “I mean, it’s not normal for a printer to be acting like this.”

“Good idea,” Jennifer replied, eager for a solution. “We can’t just let it keep spewing out bizarre messages.”

But even as she said it, doubt crept back in. What if Old Betsy had some sort of vendetta? Or worse, what if unplugging her triggered a new wave of chaos?

With a collective nod, they approached Old Betsy, their breaths held in anticipation. As Mike reached for the power cord, the lights flickered once more, casting eerie shadows on the walls. The printer began to whir ominously, the lights flashing like a strobe.

“Uh, maybe we should wait?” Todd squeaked, stepping back.

“No, we’re doing this,” Mike said firmly, his fingers poised above the cord.

Just then, Old Betsy jerked violently, as if she really was possessed. The lights blinked erratically, and a final print shot out, the paper nearly flying into Jennifer’s hands.

YOU CANNOT ESCAPE YOUR FATE. ONLY I CAN SET YOU FREE.

The group fell silent, their eyes wide with disbelief and a hint of fear.

“What the hell does that even mean?” Jennifer asked, her voice trembling.

“It’s like it knows something we don’t.” Dave said, sounding a bit more serious.

Mike hesitated, staring at the printer as if it might bite. “Maybe we’re not supposed to mess with it.”

Jennifer felt a cold sweat forming on her brow. The absurdity of the situation was quickly morphing into something much darker, as the line between humor and horror was beginning to blur. Jennifer glanced at her colleagues, their faces mirroring her own growing unease. The printer stood there, still and silent, but the air around it felt charged, alive with probability and dread. As the clock ticked toward closing time, Jennifer couldn’t shake the feeling that this wild wasn’t over yet. She had an uneasy feel that Old Betsy was just beginning what would be a terrifying week at the office.

CHAPTER 2: ANOTHER PREDICTION COMES TRUE
 
The next morning arrived with an uninviting grayness, as skies were heavy with clouds and that seemed to match the oppressive atmosphere within Jennifer Hartley. She had considering using up a sick day, but begrudgingly marched through the office door, bracing herself for another day of uncertainty. Her heart still raced with echoes of the previous day’s bizarre encounter with Old Betsy, and as she approached her desk she felt that familiar knot tighten in her stomach.

“Morning, sunshine!” Dave greeted her with an overly cheerful grin, his voice slicing through the silence like a knife. He was leaning against the edge of her cubicle, coffee in hand, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Ready for another round of printer horror?”

“That’s not funny, Dave,” Jennifer replied, forcing a smile as she sat down. “That’s the last thing we need today, more predictions about broken fingers.”

“Hey, if Betsy’s trying to tell us something maybe we should listen,” Dave said with a tone of mockery in his voice. “You might find out you’re destined for greatness, or at least a new stapler.”

“Or someone might end up trapped in a closet again,” she shot back, recalling Todd’s plight from the previous day.

As the morning progressed, Jennifer couldn’t shake that lingering unease. Each time she heard the low hum of Old Betsy powering up, her heart skipped a beat. The printer had become a focal point of anxiety, drawing the attention of her coworkers as they speculated on what new horrors she might unveil next. Mid-morning brought a brief lull in the chaos, allowing Jennifer to catch her breath. She logged into her computer, scrolling through emails, but her focus was fractured as her mind half on work and half on the ominous fates the printer had already promised.

Around noon, the office buzzed with chatter as the break room filled with colleagues eager for a snack and juicy gossip. Jennifer joined the throng, her stomach churning with apprehension. Just as she reached for a cup of coffee, a loud crash echoed from the direction of the supply closet. The noise startled everyone, their heads snapping toward the sound.

“What now?” Margaret said, her voice edged with irritation. “If it’s another intern stuck in there, I swear…”

“I’ll go check it out,” Dave volunteered, his bravado returning as he pushed through the crowd. “Maybe Betsy’s on the warpath again.”

The group followed him, curiosity and trepidation mingling in the air. As they approached the closet, Jennifer’s heart raced. What if Betsy had come to claim another victim?

Dave swung the door open with a dramatic flair, revealing a chaotic scene. Papers lay strewn everywhere, and a large box of binders had toppled over, spilling its contents across the floor. But there was no sign of Todd or anyone else trapped inside.

“Looks like the supply closet is just living its best life,” he quipped, surveying the mess. “Anyone need some extra paper?”

Laughter erupted, but it was short-lived. The group’s attention was soon drawn back to Old Betsy, which had inexplicably powered on, the lights flashing like a strobe.

“Is it just me, or is she feeling a bit feisty today?” Jennifer muttered, her voice barely a whisper.

“Feisty or not, I’m not going near that thing,” Margaret replied, crossing her arms. “It’s like a cheesy 80‘s horror movie just waiting to happen.”

Before they could retreat, the printer emitted a series of frantic beeps, drawing the entire group’s attention. They watched, frozen in anticipation as another sheet of paper began to print. Jennifer held her breath, the memory of the previous day’s predictions still fresh in her mind. The paper ejected suddenly, fluttering to the floor as if propelled by an unseen force. Jennifer bent down to pick it up, her fingers trembling slightly. The words were bold and unsettling.

COVER YOUR EYES WHEN THE WINDOW BREAKS.

The staff looked unsettled as Jennifer passed around the first note. Dave looked just as unsettled as the rest of the staff. What window was Betsy talking about, and whose eyes was she trying to protect?

"Is this some kind of psych out?" Dave asked, "To make us sacred to walk near windows? To freak us all out?"

"Sounds like that's working, Dave." Margaret suggested.

"Of course it is!" Dave roared back.

"Wait!" Todd called out, "It's printing again!"

Jennifer walked over and took out the new sheet to read it for herself. She took a deep breath and then read the next message out loud.

SOMEONE WILL LOSE THEIR JOB BY FRIDAY.

A collective gasp echoed through the break room. The air thickened with unease as everyone exchanged glances, their laughter quickly dying.

“Okay, that’s not funny,” Margaret said, her face pale. “What does that even mean?”

Jennifer felt the weight of the prediction settling over her.

“It’s just a prank,” Jennifer said, though her voice lacked conviction. “Right?”

Dave shrugged, his earlier bravado slipping away.

“But what if it isn’t?” Dave asked, “What if Old Betsy here really knows something that we don’t?”

“Maybe we should call IT,” Todd piped up, his earlier embarrassment forgotten. “They could check it out, maybe reset the damn thing.”

“Or we could just unplug it,” Jennifer suggested, the idea gaining traction in her mind. “We should have done that yesterday! We shouldn’t allow this thing to run wild.”

“Good luck with that,” Margaret scoffed. “What if it retaliates? I don’t want to be Old Betsy’s the next victim.”

The group’s laughter was a nervous sound, but Jennifer felt a stirring of determination.

“I’m serious,” Jennifer insisted, “We cannot keep living in fear of this thing.”

With a sigh, the group started moving toward the printer, their collective anxiety palpable. Mike stepped forward with a brow furrowed in concentration.

“Let’s just try to reset it,” Mike suggested, “If it’s malfunctioning, doing a basic reset should be able to fix it.”

As they approached Old Betsy, Jennifer hesitated, her heart pounding in her chest. The printer seemed to loom larger than life, its ancient casing reflecting the harsh fluorescent lights.

Mike reached for the power cord, but before he could pull it, Old Betsy jerked violently. The lights flickered, and a high-pitched whirring filled the room, drowning out their conversation.

“Uh, maybe we should back up,” Todd suggested, taking a few cautious steps back.

“Too late now,” Mike muttered, fingers hovering over the cord. “Just hold on…”

He yanked it out, and the office plunged into silence. For a moment, it felt like they had escaped whatever curse Old Betsy had threatened. But as they exhaled, the lights flickered again, and the printer seemed to hum ominously in the dark.

“Have we made it worse?” Jennifer inquired, the stress crawling back into her bones.

Just then, another sheet of paper shot out, landing at Jennifer’s feet. She picked it up, and her hands shook as she read the message:

THE ONLY ESCAPE IS THROUGH YOUR FEARS.

“What does that even mean?” Margaret exclaimed, her voice rising. “This is getting ridiculous!”

Before anyone could respond, a loud thud echoed from the back of the office. The group turned in unison to see the heavy glass window shatter, sending shards of glass flying across the floor. Chaos erupted as people scrambled away from the sudden danger. Jennifer’s heart raced, her instincts kicking in.

“Everyone, get back!” she shouted, trying to herd her coworkers toward safety.

Amidst the chaos, she spotted Dave, frozen in shock, staring at the broken window.

“Did that just happen?” he whispered, eyes wide.

“Now is not the time to stand there like a deer in headlights!” Jennifer yelled, her voice cutting through the panic. “We need to get to safety!”

As the group scrambled toward the exits, the air filled with confusion and fear. The last thing Jennifer caught before she ducked out of the break room was the sight of Old Betsy eerily powering back on, lights flashing as if reveling in the chaos. Once outside, the group gathered in the parking lot, adrenaline pumping through their veins.

“What the hell was that?” Todd gasped, trying to catch his breath. “Is the printer really responsible for this?”

“I don’t know,” Dave replied, shaking his head as he was still dazed. “But I’m never going near that damn printer, or any other printer, ever again!”

“Maybe it’s just a freak accident,” Margaret suggested, as her voice trembled. “Windows break all the time, right?”

“Yeah, but not usually after a series of creepy predictions,” Jennifer replied, her mind racing. “What if Betsy really is cursed?”

“Okay, let’s not jump to conclusions,” Mike interjected, trying to regain his composure. “We can still have IT come out and take a look at her. Maybe there’s a logical explanation.”

“To a window exploding because of a faulty printer?” Jennifer retorted, her frustration bubbling to the surface. “We’re not just dealing with a malfunctioning printer here. This is something else!”

The group fell silent, the weight of the morning’s events settling heavily on their shoulders. No one wanted to admit it, but the feeling that Old Betsy was more than just a malfunctioning office appliance loomed over them like a dark cloud.

As they stood in the parking lot, uncertainty filled the air, and the shadows of the office behind them seemed to whisper secrets. They had unwittingly awakened something sinister, and the only question that remained was how deep this curse could run.

“Let’s get back inside,” Jennifer finally suggested, feeling a need for action, “We can’t let that thing take control of our lives.”

As they turned back toward the building, the unsettling feeling lingered, a reminder that they were just beginning to scratch the surface of Old Betsy’s dark secrets. The machine had only just begun to reveal itself, and with each passing moment, Jennifer could feel the grip of dread tightening around them all.