I just wrote this short story for a 48 hour flash fiction contest where you don't know the genre/location/focal object until the contest starts. Mine were Horror/Planetarium/Ribbon. 1000 Words Max.
Modern Day Andromeda
Synopsis:
A janitor working an overnight shift meets a stranger in need of help
getting home.
She's not real...
The screen erupts with cosmic
explosions and intensely realistic depictions of faraway galaxies,
complimented by a deep, strident voice booming out veritable facts
about the unknown that usually began with “since the dawn of
time...” The rich history of the constellations paint pictures of a
past that in no way conforms to the tame normalcy of today's world,
leaving you to question its validity.
Did she ever exist?
This is the only time Ted is able to
experience the magic of this place without it being ruined by
children with short attention spans or the elderly gasping at how far
technology has come since they were in diapers. There's something
quite phantasmagorical about being here after hours. The planetarium
feels infinitely larger when you're the only one in it. And the
voice, the voice most would associate with how they expect God would
sound if he were lecturing you, reverberates throughout the theater.
Uninterrupted by mindless, idle chatter, you alone are his captive
audience.
Once midnight strikes, Ted usually
turns off the lights, allowing himself to be fully immersed in his
own private spectacle. On this night he rolls out a heavy fleece
blanket he keeps in his car instead of cramping himself into one of
the wooden seats designed to keep people uncomfortably awake. The
vantage point from lying down creates a more visceral experience.
This is the primary if not the sole
reason Ted took the job. No one really chooses to be a janitor for
the glamour or the potential. The fringe benefits, however, are just
begging to be taken advantage of. Sometimes you just want the luxury
of being alone, and for Ted there's no better place or time.
But sometimes isolation takes its toll.
Sometimes the imagination gets carried
away by its own vivaciousness.
Or sometimes you just don't want to see
what you see.
I'm alone and afraid...
He didn't have to get up to feel her
presence. There was a chill in the air prompted by a sudden gust of
wind normally felt whenever someone walks by. It's odd but you can
always sense if you're alone or in the company of some other entity
without actually knowing.
She sat there, staring up at the giant
projection in the midst of explaining the origins of the galaxy. She
couldn't have been more than nine or ten... if that, but she had the
poise of someone much much older. The look on her face was one of awe
and childlike wonder... the kind of look that would normally fill you
with ease, but considering the circumstances, had filled Ted with
anything but.
“Miss?” he attempts to call out
confidently but knowing he has failed miserably.
She doesn't answer, her haunting eyes
remain fixated on the screen above. He comes closer, unsure of what
to do. “Excuse me, Miss?”
“It's amazing, isn't it?” She
replies, indifferent to his presence. Her eyes still captivated by
the show.
With his rapidly overwhelming fear
undermining his genuine concern, he cautiously sits in the row
directly in front of her. Close, but not too close. Her mere presence
leaving goosebumps on his arms. How can an innocent child inflict
such dread?
“Are you lost? Where are your
parents?”
Slowly, she turns her head, gazing deep
beyond his soul. Her facial expression never changing, but it is her
eyes that tell a much more ominous tale. The darkness within spoke of
unending sadness and terror.
“I lost the ribbon for my hair,”
she responds matter-of-factly. “Mommy told me not to come home
until I find it.”
The nonchalance in her tone and
demeanor are beyond unsettling. So much that he didn't realize the
looped video had finished and restarted. The voice booming out,
startling him, prompting his head to snap back towards the direction
of the words. Something seemed unfamiliar though. The voice spoke
much slower... deeper. Like a record playing at the wrong speed. He
turns to look back at the child, but she has seemingly vanished.
“L...little girl? He whispers out as
loud as he can, looking all around the giant empty space for signs of
life.
“Mommy gets very angry,” the deep,
slow voice from overhead clamors out repeatedly. Taunting him.
As if on cue, a spool of sheer blue
ribbon bounces down the steps adjacent to where he sits, unraveling
as it went as if presenting a path. He watches as the spool
meticulously makes its way behind the giant ancient wooden lectern
stationed near the back of the hall.
Convinced he has no other choice, he
slowly makes his way down the stairs to the lectern, finding a
mysterious staircase he never noticed before.
or was it always there...?
Ted feels his heart
racing as he edges closer to the darkness. Crouching down, he stares
deep into the haunting abyss, allowing his eyes time to adjust.
“Please
help me get home, Ted,” the eeriness of hearing his name followed
by a childish giggle sends shivers down his spine. But something or
someone won't let him stop. He wants, no, needs to know what is down
there. He follows the trail deeper into the darkness until he is
completely enveloped by the blackness. Panicked, he looks back up
from where he came but sees nothing.
“Hello??”
he shouts out, paralyzed with fear. “Please help me!”
He reaches out,
attempting to find something, anything to grab on to. Resigned, he
falls to his knees. “Please...” he cries out to no one.
“Mommy
said I can come home now,” is the last thing Ted hears before
feeling the silky presence of a ribbon wrap tightly around his neck.
His arms struggling to no avail to remove the tension as he feels
life slowly ease away. The darkness somehow becomes even darker.
Up above, the
faint, muffled sound of a familiar voice begins once again.
“Since
the dawn of time...”
