Night of the Undead Bureaucrats

It was a dark and stormy night,

The kind of night that fills you with fright.

A mansion on the outskirts called to me,

To retrieve documents from the attic, you see.

I trudged through the rain with heavy feet,

The atmosphere thick with dread, complete.

But I had a job to do, so I pressed on,

Up the creaky stairs, until the attic was won.

As I reached the top, I gasped in surprise,

For there before me were undead in guise.

Bureaucrats risen from the grave,

Determined to finish their work, no matter how depraved.

"Welcome, my dear," one of them hissed,

Its voice dripping with malice, hard to resist.

"We've been waiting for you," it said with a grin,

As its clammy hands reached out to begin.

I tried to run, but my feet were stuck fast,

Trapped by the undead, my fate now cast.

"Now, now," another one chimed in,

"There's no need to be afraid, let us begin."

They listed off all my mistakes with glee,

"These are your priorities," they cackled maniacally.

But just when all hope seemed lost,

A faint scratching sound came at no cost.

I turned to see a mouse, gnawing through rope,

And with a burst of strength, I broke free and hoped.

I ran for the door, the undead hot on my heels,

But I didn't look back, my determination now real.

I stumbled out into the rain, safe and sound,

And chuckled at the absurdity all around.

A comedy horror story, just for me,

But as the laughter died down, a cold fear did creep.

For who knows what other undead lurk in the night,

Carrying out their duties with malevolent delight?

I vowed to never underestimate my priorities again,

For one never knows what horrors might begin.