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The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/BadandyTheRed on 2026-05-12 22:33:48+00:00.

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Another day, another job. It would be nice to find something more reliable one day, ideally with a low mortality rate and paid time off. Instead, Jake and I have made our way through so many career fields that I can barely keep track at this point. We have been crime scene cleaners, construction workers, bartenders, and hell, even one-time amateur exorcists.... don't ask about that one, though I will say the papacy might forgive our transgressions if they saw our results.

Anyway, Jake and I have found ourselves in need of work again. This last job didn't last long, and it was strange, even by our standards. It was another cleaning gig, and we figured that despite the odd description and the admittedly creepy location of an abandoned building near town, it would be all right. At least there would be no blood and bodies to clean up. And hopefully, no cursed dolls hiding around in the basement either.

It was a month ago. We were looking around and found an odd listing about a cleaning crew needed for an old flea market close to downtown. Just some cover-up painting. Not a big deal considering what we had done before, and the pay was surprisingly good for such a simple job.

We jumped at the chance when we found it, since it would be the first decent payday in a while.

Jake and I took the van out to the building to meet the contact for the position. Jake was grinning like he always did when we were going to a new job. At this point, I figured he got some sort of masochistic joy out of the idea that everything might unravel around us like a curse.

I was just excited for another paycheck, even if it was another cleaning gig.

“Come on man, I’m sure this one will be on the level.” Jake said, trying to cheer me up while frantically switching through songs on his playlist.” He finally settled on Battery by Metallica, and before he cranked the volume up, he continued,

“After all, what's the worst....”

“Don't finish that sentence!”I snapped back at him, but he just shrugged and drowned out my concern with the song.

We rode on for a while longer, seeing the telltale signs of dilapidated buildings, which assured us we were getting close. Jake checked the directions again.

“This is it up ahead. Old Mayhew's Flea Market. I'm shocked this place closed. Who could pass up on such fine offerings?” He chuckled sarcastically while pointing to an old, defaced sign of an unpleasant-looking man in an ill-fitting suit. Jake had a point; the marketing sucked as much as the location.

We parked in a lot just outside the condemned building. Now that we were closer, I saw that the place was fairly large, which made sense if it had been a bigger market in the past. The entire building was in a sorry state now though. Many windows were broken, boards were haphazardly nailed over sections, and the whole place looked like a light breeze could topple it. As I looked on, I saw nearly every square inch of the place was tagged or covered in graffiti. There was also a strange ring of what looked like white paint on the ground that seemed to circle the perimeter.

I wondered why someone would want us to clean the place and not just tear it down and start again somewhere better, but I supposed it didn't matter. We were there and ready to work. Assuming this job really was on the level, I wanted to get down to it as soon as possible.

In the next few minutes, another car pulled up. It was a well-maintained, if not a little dated Oldsmobile, still looking sharp despite its best years being behind it. A tall man wearing a cowboy hat stepped out of the car and walked over to us.

“Howdy boys, the name’s Earl Mayhew. Good to meet ya.”

Jake stepped forward and immediately shook the man's hand and gave a sarcastic,

“Howdy Earl, names Jake and this here’s ma friend.”

I cringed at the awful accent Jake was attempting and hoped it would not offend our new client. Instead, Mr. Mayhew just laughed and slapped his knee. I held out my hand and before I could say anything, Mr. Mayhew walked past me and towards the building.

“Well then, now that the introductions are out of the way, please follow me. I can show ya the place and you fellas can decide if yall are interested in the job.” He moved on towards the building. We shrugged and followed.

Mayhew rummaged through his pocket for a moment and produced a key that he used to open a large padlock on the front door. Before stepping inside, he peeked in and looked around as if expecting something. Then he finally moved in and gestured for us to follow.

“I know she doesn't look like much these days, but we had a lot of good times. I just can’t bear the idea of selling the place. This used to be one of the most successful flea markets in the county. We had people from all over the state, with hundreds of vendors and clients, but that was then. ” Mayhew sighed ruefully and looked like he had forgotten we were there for a moment.

He snapped back to the present and regarded us, “Sorry boys, lots of memories. Anyway, come this way and I'll show ya the real meat and potatoes of what I need done.”

We followed him down a dimly lit hall and into a wide open central plaza that was covered in debris. Almost every surface was plastered with some measure of graffiti.

“Definitely a fixer-upper” Jake mumbled. Mayhew must have heard him and his eyes narrowed. Jake caught himself and blurted out apologetically, “But it has good bones, good character, no wonder you wanted to preserve it.” Mayhew nodded and continued on. Jake shot me a lame thumbs-up, and I rolled my eyes.

We stopped again, and Mayhew looked around, examining particular walls and parts of the floor with care. I was about to ask what he was looking for when he held up a hand and then pointed at a spot on the wall.

“There, right there. That is what I need you gentlemen to take care of.” I looked at the odd spots on the wall and was confused.

“What is that?” I asked, unable to hide my confusion.

“That is what you will need to clean. This place has been turned over recently, believe it or not. I even have a crew working nights out here. No matter how much we cover it.... it comes back. I need you two to cover up it up before...” He paused, looking nervous.

“Before what?” Jake asked

“Before it changes.” Mayhew finished, and we both looked at him incredulously.

“Changes?” I tried to clarify.

“Yes, I know it sounds crazy, but this art, if you can call it that, can change. It spreads all the time, slow and steady like. If it's not cleaned up, it eventually transforms. When the images start forming...” Mayhew paused, and it looked like he was trying to suppress an involuntary shudder. “Well, it's best not to let it come to that; we have had some incidents before when it did.”

I didn’t like the way he had said “incident”.

“But it won't be an issue if you are thorough. I just need you fellas to handle the paint. It has to be paint that covers it and not any cheap paint. It seems as long as we use decent stuff, it holds it off longer. We tried throwing paint thinner at it, in case it might work to wear it down faster. Unfortunately, it wouldn't stop the spread, so I was left with gallons of the stuff that I had to store in the main hall. Once I get the funds ready, I am going to wallpaper the bejesus out of this place and replace all the flooring and see how that thing likes it.” He slapped his knee and laughed again, but stopped to cough awkwardly.

I was confused. What was “That thing?” he was referring to? It felt like there was a detail he was omitting.

Mayhew straightened his jacket and continued,

“So fellas, what will it be? Just a few weeks of painting and I'm willing to pay you the whole salary of the last crew of five people.” He held out a piece of paper, and I collected it before Jake could. He looked over my shoulder and mumbled a soft “Whoa.” When he saw the pay. I tried to suppress my own excitement. It was double what we made on our last job for only a couple of weeks of work.

“Count us in sir.” We said almost in unison.

“Excellent boys, happy to do business with you. You can start tomorrow, I just have to work out a few things with the other crew and you guys will be in business. Come by bright and early tomorrow, say 6 am? And we can go over the particulars.”

We arrived early the next day as requested. I was still feeling groggy, and I hammered back an energy drink before stepping out of the van. Jake seemed oddly energized and leapt out as soon as we arrived, nearly tripping as we went.

Mr. Mayhew was there waiting for us. He looked disturbed by something and was kneeling down with a tape measure and shaking his head. There was an odd patch of what looked like dark paint that was on the ground near the white ring.

As we approached, I heard him mumbling something in frustration about an “Artistic bitch”

I cleared my throat to get his attention and called out,

“Hey Mr. Mayhew, good morning.” He looked up, and the look of concern vanished, replaced by his practiced businessman's smile.

“Hey boys, thanks for coming. All right, so down to busine...

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