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Raven and Skull by Ashley Lister EPUB
Jean-Paul Sartre said, 'Hell is other people.' But he was only half right. Hell is the other people who work in the offices of Raven and Skull. After a week of horror and upset, six colleagues from the Raven and Skull offices get together in the pub to exchange stories and decide which of them has had the worst week. Each one has had a week plagued by adultery, theft, betrayal, murder, cannibalism, black magic and death. The stories they share are dark and twisted and reflect the regular reality of Raven and Skull. Do you dare to hear what they have to say?
From the book:
“Tell us about a time you nearly died, Tony.”
Heather’s suggestion was greeted by a barrage of laughter. There were half a dozen of them sitting around the table – the last souls left in an otherwise empty bar. Drained beer bottles and lipstick-smudged glasses stood between them like abstract monuments to the memories of good times gone. The darkness outside the bar window was fading to the apocalyptic grey of another dawn.
Tony glanced at his five colleagues and flashed an automatic grin. He hadn’t yet drunk enough beer to be light-headed, but he could feel the mood around the table was shifting. The evening had started as an early weekend escape from the offices of Raven and Skull; a two fingered salute to the workplace in the time-honoured tradition of every godforsaken Friday. After a grim week working nine-to-five – a grimmer week than any of them were used to suffering – Geoff’s idea that they should get pissed and have a laugh together had seemed like a stroke of pure genius. But now, whilst the maudlin veil of melancholy felt like it was finally lifting, Tony thought it was revealing something strange, unpleasant and potentially dangerous.
It was no surprise that they were talking about death. Given the events of the previous week it would have been more surprising if that topic hadn’t come up. But the fact that they were laughing about the subject seemed somehow unnatural, twisted and grisly.
“Go on,” Becky encouraged. Out of all of them, Becky looked the worst for wear after a night on the sauce. Geoff had nudged a glass of red down her white blouse, leaving a bloody stain over her right breast. Her usual pristine office composure had been destroyed as the night dragged her downwards. She now wore snagged tights and a snapped heel. With her hair awry and her eye make-up smeared, she looked like she had fought her way off a mortician’s slab. Smiling blearily, and clearly unaware of how wrecked her appearance was, Becky slurred her words when she repeated her request. “Go on, Tony. Tell us a story.”
“Someone get the next round,” Tony decided. “And I’ll tell you a story.” He raised a warning finger as Geoff disappeared in the direction of the bar. Glancing purposefully at Heather, he said, “But I won’t tell you about a time I nearly died. I’ll tell you about a time when I thought I was going to die…”
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