What's In The Box:
Hello all and welcome to another week of Inside the Box. This week I introduce something new to the blog. I'm sharing and original short story of my own creation! I hope to periodically start sharing short stories and this one is the first. I hope everyone enjoys the journey Inside the Box!
Story Box:
Turn Off The
Light!
by Adam Bach
I
was jolted awake by the sound of a blood curdling scream in the distance. My
head is throbbing and I bet the room would be spinning if it wasn’t pitch
black. What the hell happened last night? I start to move my hands and realize
that my left is heavy. I’m holding something but I can’t seem to let it go. I
inspect it with my right hand and it’s metal and cylindrical. It has a bit of a
rattle to it and that’s when I push down with my left thumb and a beam of
blinding light goes off. As I rub my face to try and adjust to the light source
I start to see a shadowy figure sitting in the corner of the room. I hear a
strange roar in the distance and it sends shivers down my spine.
I
yell to the figure in the corner, “What the fuck is going on?” As my eyes
slowly adjust to the light the shadowy figure remains motionless but in a low
tone I hear a voice say, “Please Mr. Ray, use your inside voice.” I shine the
light on the shadowy figure and sitting there is a man in a black suit with his
head down wearing a black fedora. As the figure slowly raises his head my eyes
widen as the face I see is pale grey with piercing red eyes. “Do you mind Mr.
Ray?” I lower that light from his face but I can still see his glowing red
eyes. “Who are you and how do you know my name?” The red eyed man snickers and
then says, “neither of those are the questions you should be asking right now
Mr. Ray. “Well then what am I doing here?” I asked. The red eyed man closes his eyes
and lowers his head before speaking, “Mr. Ray would you consider yourself a decent person, a
person of dignity?” I answered the question defensively, “Well of course I am,
I’m a journalist, I report on the subjects that people want to know about.” The
red eyed man lets out one single dubious laugh, “Mr. Ray you partake in ‘Gotcha
journalism,’ you have made a living shining a light on other people’s private
affairs and destroying them in the media. You are neither decent nor dignified,
thus this is why you are here. They say the pen is mightier than the sword and
you have rendered kings to commoners with yours.” I sit there in silence. This
can’t really be happening can it? “Oh I can assure you this is all real Mr.
Ray.” Has he been reading my mind this whole time? “Yes I have,” said the red
eyed man. “Now let me answer the question that has been on your mind since we
started this little conversation. The light that is attached to your hand
represents the light you have shed on others lives with your writing.” “This is
ridiculous!” I say. “Please don’t interrupt Mr. Ray, for this next part is very
important to the outcome of your current situation. There is a door six paces
to your left that will unlock once I leave this room. Much like in here it is
pitch black beyond the door. You have spent many years bringing personal
information to the light of day, to survive this journey you must learn to work
in the dark. If you can find your way out in the darkness you will remain
unharmed, however if you choose to rely on the flashlight attached to your hand
you will most certainly meet your end, for there is a creature beyond this room
that is attracted to the light.” I take his moment of pause as an invitation to
ask my next question, “What is to keep the creature from attacking me if it
finds me with the light off.” The red eyed man stands up and buttons his suit,
“The creature can’t see, hear, smell, or feel. If you encounter it with the
light off it will pass right through you. It only gains the ability to attack
you if the light is on, so I suggest you turn the light off now. Best of luck
Mr. Ray, no matter the outcome you will not be seeing me again.” The next thing
I know the red eyed man’s body collapses on itself in a cloud of black smoke. I
shine the light over to my left and just like he said there is a door on the
far wall. Am I really supposed to believe what this “man” has just told me? I
stand up and walk over to the door. I reach for the knob and pause for a
moment. I look down at the light in my hand and turn it off. I twist the knob
and walk through the door.
I
take two steps forward and instantly walk face first into the wall with a
“thud!” I mutter under my breath, “Ow.” I place my hand on the wall and start
walking to my right. As I cautiously walk with my hand running along the wall
as a guide I can feel that it is hard and coarse, almost like stone. Am I
underground? Why can’t I remember what happened last night? I reach the end of
the hallway and feel around me. I can’t find any surfaces. Am I in an open
area? I take a deep breath and hold it in to see if I can hear anything. After
a moment I muster up some courage. “Screw this.” I click on the light and shine
it around. I find myself standing in the middle of a circular room with three
ways I can go. I start heading to the right and that’s when I hear that strange
roar again coming from the pathway. I stop in my tracks and start walking
backwards. I reach the pathway to the left and I hear heavy footsteps coming
from the right. I quickly turn the light off and head down the path using my
hand as a guide on the wall. After a moment the only footsteps I hear are mine.
As I walk down the hallway I start trying to think back to the last memory that
I have outside of this place. The last thing I remember is working on the
O’Shaughnessy story.
I
walk into my office and see that my assistant Ben Hardy is hard at work finding
new leads for my next story. As far as researchers go Ben is the best I’ve ever
worked with but we have fallen into a trend of who’s sleeping with who and
child stars turned train wrecks. I needed the next big story. “What have you
got for me today Ben?” With a surprised gasp Ben knocks his coffee off the
desk, “Jeez Mr. Ray you scared the crap outta me.” I grab the tissue box off my
desk and hand it to Ben to wipe up the coffee. While he does this I grab his
mug and set it on his desk. I take the lid off of mine and pour half of my
coffee into his mug. “Sorry Ben and please you can just call me Jason.” Ben
looks up at me exhaustedly, “Jason you don’t have to do that.” I take a seat at
my desk, “Don’t worry about it Ben. What leads have you found?” Ben sets the
tissue box back on my desk, “I’ve found three potential stories but only one
seems legit. First, pop star Annie Marigold is reportedly fronting a heavy
metal band called Zombie Puppet under the alias of Raggedy Zombie.” “Ha! What
else do you have Ben?” Ben adjusts his glasses, “Jason that is the only one
that seems legit.” “That’s why I’m not going to cover that one Ben. It makes
too much sense.” Ben walks over to his desk and grabs some papers, “The second
lead is that Kelly Kahn has been sneaking out of the rehab facility to buy
drugs to sell in the rehab facility.” “Really Ben? What’s the last one?” Ben,
clearly frustrated shuffles his pages, “Ok, the final lead, which is probably
hokum, is that Darren O’Shaughnessy was reportedly seen fleeing the scene of a
hit a run four years ago.” “That’s it! Who is the source?”
I
reached what seemed to be a dead end but as I listened closely I could hear the
whistling of wind. I turned on the flashlight and started to inspect the space.
I knelt down and realized there was a small gap between the floor and the wall.
I’m able to get my finger tips under the wall and slide the wall up revealing a
tunnel. Behind me the echoing footsteps of something big start to reverberate
off of the walls. I glance over my shoulder and I hear a loud roar not more
than ten feet from me. I quickly turn off the light, crouch down, and crawl
into the tunnel. As I crawled through the tunnel I thought to myself, “What is
that thing? What am I doing here? Come on Jason remember.”
“Boss
we can’t do this story on O’Shaughnessy,” Ben said with a crack in his voice. “Ben
are you out of your mind? We found proof that Hollywood’s fastest growing
action star fled from a hit and run.” Ben slams his fist on my desk, “Jason our
main source is a homeless man who thinks
his best friend is the Scarecrow from Wizard of Oz!” “Yes but he also sits
outside of a movie theater that constantly has posters with O’Shaughnessy’s
face on them. If you witness something like that you’re going to remember the
face Ben.” Ben walks over to his desk and sits down. He gets really quite for a
moment and I don’t really think much of it. Ben finally breaks his silence,
“Are you going to run the story?” I avoid the question for a moment as I finish
typing up an email. I finally give Ben a one word answer, “Yes.” Ben shakes his
head and walks across the room and grabs an empty box. Slightly shocked I ask,
“Ben what are you doing?” Placing a few personal items into the box Ben says,
“I can’t do this anymore, I’m not going to be part of ruining lives anymore.” I
watch Ben walk out the door and a level of disappointment rushes through my
body, “Fuck him, I can do this myself.”
I
reach the end of the tunnel and although I really want to flip on the light,
the creature felt a little too close for comfort last time. So I decided to
stand up and use the wall as my guide. As I walk down the hallway I start to
see a very dull beam of light. As I get closer I start to realize that it’s
coming from a door with a small square shaped window in it. As I jog to the
door I start thinking to myself, “Is this the end? Am I getting out of here?”
When I reach the door I look through the window and see that it leads into a
very large looking room. I go to reach for the door knob but there isn’t one. I
feel around the entire door to no avail. I look back into the window and see
that there is a single chair in the middle of the room with a man sitting in
it. On further inspection I realize that the man sitting there is the red eyed
man from before. Does he not see me? Why won’t he unlock the door? I start
banging on the door and yet it doesn’t seem like he hears it. So I take the
bottom of the flashlight and try to break the glass window but after five hard
hits there isn’t even a scratch. Finally, I decide to flash the light through
the window to try and get the red eyed man’s attention. I turn on the light and
shine it into the window. In a huge rush the events of my previous day flood
back to me.
Sitting
at the table across from me is one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen
in my life. Her long auburn hair smelled like roses and she has beautiful green
eyes. I met her about six months after I printed the O’Shaughnessy story. My
career took off like a rocket because of it. It turned out he really did flee
the scene of a hit and run that resulted in the death of a sixteen year old
girl. His acting career was ruined and he ended up hanging himself in his
Malibu home two months later. I got so popular from the story it didn’t matter
that Ben quit, I had people coming to me left and right with stories and leads.
That’s how I met Megan Yancy. She came to me with a story idea and I asked if
we could discuss it over dinner. It turns out that she wanted to do a story
about me, about my life. I have to admit I was pretty flattered by this. Megan
finishes her salad, pulls out a notebook and proceeds to asking questions, “So
Mr. Ray what made you want to be a journalist?” I ignore the question and ask
one of my own, “So is it Miss Yancy?” She sets down the notebook, “No Mr. Ray,
it’s Mrs., and if this is the only reason you agreed to this then I should
probably just go.” Megan gets up and leaves as I sit there and sip at my wine.
After a few moments the check comes and I pay for the meal. I get up and walk
out of the restaurant and as I’m walking to my car I see Megan walking over to
me. I start to apologize for the way I acted in the restaurant, “Mrs. Yancy I
would like to apolo…” I stop as I feel a sharp pain burn in my stomach. I look
down and Megan has a knife deep in my stomach. I look up at her face. She has a
look of anger as tears run down her checks. She twists the blade, “My maiden
name is O’Shaughnessy.” My eyes widen as I stare into her green eyes. “She
pulls the blade out and thrusts it back into my stomach, “Darren was my
brother!” She pulls the blade out again and drives it into my stomach one last
time. As I fall to my knees she whispers one last thing to me, “He killed
himself because you ruined him, consider this his last request.” Everything
starts to fade as I watch Megan walk away.
I
lower the flashlight down to my side and look back through the window. The red
eyed man is standing right on the other side. I ask him, “So, I have been dead
this entire time?” “That you have Mr. Ray but I’m proud of you. You discovered
that much faster this time,” said the red eyed man with a smile. What is he
talking about? Have I done this all before? “Please tell me, am I in Hell?” The
red eyed man laughs as he turns around and walks toward the chair in the middle
of the room. He sits down and somehow I can still hear him, “No Mr. Ray, you
are in Tartarus.” I take a step back from the door and then it hits me. I never
turned the light off! I turn around and the last thing I see is a horned beast
pounce at me.
I
was jolted awake by the sound of a blood curdling scream in the distance. My
head is throbbing and I bet the room would be spinning if it wasn’t pitch
black. What the Hell happened last night?
The
red eyed man sits on his throne in silence with a big smile on his face. A
three headed dog walks up to the throne and he pats all three of the heads.
“Good boy,” says the red eyed man.
The End
Final Thoughts:
Have A Great Weekend!!!
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