Sinking (1/13)
Title: Sinking, Part 1
Series: TCR (real, not fake)
Rating: PG-13 for spookiness and language.
Warnings: Violence and mental instability.
Summary: Producing a television show is no easy feat, but it's fulfilling work-- until a strange presence begins to break everything down.
Author's Note: Here's the start of a story suitable for the Halloween season for ya'll. I wanted to start posting it thirteen days ago but it's still not quite done. Here's hoping! :D
Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual. IN SHORT: None of this shit is real. I just like scary stories.
(Jump to: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13)
Katie stood on the last stair before the landing, the landing with the doorway to the third-floor hall. She held onto the rail and leaned forward, peering down the gloomy hallway. It was weakly lit by the fluorescent lights on the ceiling and by the light streaming from an open door, a room neighboring the stairs. Naturally, the room she needed to be in was all the way down the hall, last one on the left. She looked back down the stairwell, hoping someone would come running up and angrily ask why she was just standing there, didn't she realize taping was starting any minute, they needed that wizard's staff for the first act! But it was quiet.
She twisted her grip on the railing, feeling anxious. She was being stupid, letting her imagination get in the way of her work. She'd gotten this job because she had presented herself as energetic, hard-working, and responsible. In actuality, Katie had a hard time thinking of herself in that way, but she thought getting an internship in New York would bring her emotional and mental aspirations to the forefront. It had worked, too. After two weeks she was surprisingly comfortable navigating the subway, running out on errands in unfamiliar places, keeping up with the other staff when the evening fell and they had to kick everything into high gear so the show could start on time. She truly loved it here, and if she was offered a position for after graduation she wouldn't give it a second thought.
At least she wouldn't have until last Monday...
Katie bit her lip. It was all in her head. She was second-guessing herself. The meek part of her was still in her subconscious or something, trying to ruin everything. Any psychologist would tell her that. Any of the ones on TV, anyway, she was pretty sure. Regardless, she took that final step onto the landing and forced herself to march into the hall. She paused a moment, confirming that the world around her was still intact. She glanced into the room on her right, the one with the light left on. A spare office, mostly for interns to use. A desk, a computer, a chair. She tore her gaze away. She was using anything to distract herself.
One step forward. Another. A third. The cheap carpet was flat and hard under the soles of her sneakers. The lights overhead flickered and she stopped mid-stride, her insides constricting. They flashed brightly once, then went back to normal. She stood there, trying to keep silent, but her hastened breathing seemed to fill the whole floor. It was nothing, she told herself. Lights flickered all the time. Nothing. It's all in your head. Grow up. They're waiting.
She quickly walked to the end of the hall and opened the door to her left. She flicked on the lights and looked around the room, filled with props on shelves, in piles, and leaning up against the walls. It was crowded, and she immediately thought of all the creeping, crawling things that could hide in the clutter. The wizard staff was propped up in the back left corner. She rushed in, grabbed it, rushed out, and yanked the door shut behind her, holding onto the knob as if she expected something to force its way out. But there was no resistance from the other side, no sound but her breathing and her heart pounding in her ears.
She turned back to the head of the hallway and took a few steps before she stopped dead. The rectangle of light from the spare office, crossing with the light from the stairwell, was hollow, an oblong shadow in its middle.
Katie held the staff tightly with two hands, close to her body. "H-h..." She swallowed. "Hello?" The shadow moved, breaking the light completely in half, like someone in office had taken a step forward. "Who's there?" she squeaked.
The light in the room went out. And so did the ceiling light closest to the stairs. And then the one behind it, and the one behind that, and then the last, the one above her head. The bright stairwell waited at the end of a long dark tunnel, just beyond that room.
"Th-th-th-th-this isn't-isn't..." She closed her eyes. "Isn't funny!" she shrieked. God, if James or Maria or anyone was playing a joke on her, she'd kill them, she'd fucking kill them.
A hard click behind her, and her eyes opened wide. The squeak of the doorknob turning. She screamed in her mind for her legs to move, but they seemed as stiff as the staff she held. This wasn't any of the interns. None of it was. None of it had been anybody, not even herself. She heard the door creak open, only slightly, and somehow the sound cured her paralysis. Her legs buckled at first and she stumbled into the wall, but she shoved herself away from it and burst into a run. She looked past the door, to the stairs, she had to make it there, it wouldn't follow her there, just so long as she kept running.
Her outstretched fingertips breached the invisible border between the hall and the stairwell, and she was yanked back by her hair.
\\\\\\\\\\\\
Mark stood at the door that opened into the waiting room, propping it partway open as he watched two other interns organize themselves at the mouth of the alley. Two girls, the first of the night's audience, stared at them eagerly, hardly able to wait to get inside. He could easily picture the array of fans and people-dragged-by-fans lined up behind them. Six others waited nearby; he thought all the stand-by people might actually make it in. It was pretty cold, and some people tended not to come out in cold weather. He pulled the zipper of his jacket all the way up as one of the interns flipped through the papers on her clipboard, looking for the first girl’s name.
A door slammed open and when Mark turned to see who was making the racket, he saw a girl nearly pitch head-first down the stairs leading up to the front door. She latched onto the railing at the last second, yet instead of taking a moment to regain her balance she flung herself to the sidewalk and tried to run. She managed several feet and stumbled, falling on her hands and knees in front of him. He recognized her, another intern, Katie. He reached out as she scrambled to her feet. “Are you alright?”
She turned and looked at him. The sun had gone down and he only had the yellow light from the studio as his aid, but she still looked completely colorless, with the exception of long red cuts down the right side of her face, dribbling down her neck. She only kept eye contact for a split second before her gaze darted to the building and she lurched away from it like a drunk.
Mark darted after her and grabbed her arm. “Katie, what happened?!”
She didn’t seem able to answer. She just sobbed inarticulately as she tried to pull away from him. The audience line stared at the struggle in front of them in bewilderment. Mark felt incriminated, restraining Katie like this, but he wasn’t about to let her to go running off into the city hurt and hysterical. He tried to ask again what had happened, and she just shook her head, twisted away from him, and repeated, “Let me go let me go LET ME GO!”
She jerked her arm so hard out of his grasp that he nearly fell back and she completely fell forward. The line gasped and murmured. Mark saw a couple people start moving from their places. The two interns raised their hands and told them to stay put, to give Katie space and let Mark handle it. Mark knelt on the ground next to the girl, wary of touching her again, but just as afraid she’d run off. “What’s going on?” he said, keeping his voice soft. “Who did this?”
Sprawled face-down on the sidewalk, Katie planted her hands flat on the concrete and breathed hurriedly, eyes wide open, focusing on the solid ground. Mark had a clear view of her face now, of the claw marks. Yes, claw marks, like someone had dragged his or her nails down her face. Mark was about to tell one of his coworkers to go inside, to get one of the security guys,and call the police, when suddenly Katie’s eyes slammed shut and she screamed. The audience and staff gaped at her, at the sound, too intense, too fearful, alien.
Her voice waned to quiet sobs, and Mark realized he had to get her inside. She was a spectacle, the last thing anyone needed. He lightly put a hand on her arm. “Can I help you up, Katie? It’s okay. It’s okay now. I’ll help you up.” She didn’t move at first, but as he tugged a bit on her arm she pulled herself to her feet. She hung her head, hair masking her face.
Mark tried to lead her toward the audience door. “We’ll go inside, sit down, and talk, okay?”
Her head snapped up and she grabbed the front of his jacket. “No no no no no, not in there, I’m not going back there!” she cried, begging him, tears streaming down her face. He was too stunned to answer her right away, and she started screaming. “I’m not going back! I won’t! I won’t!”
“Okay!” he yelled, trying to appease her quickly, keep her calm. “We’ll just go over here, over by the park, okay?” He looked over Katie’s shoulder and said to the staffers, “Call the cops.”
Series: TCR (real, not fake)
Rating: PG-13 for spookiness and language.
Warnings: Violence and mental instability.
Summary: Producing a television show is no easy feat, but it's fulfilling work-- until a strange presence begins to break everything down.
Author's Note: Here's the start of a story suitable for the Halloween season for ya'll. I wanted to start posting it thirteen days ago but it's still not quite done. Here's hoping! :D
Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual. IN SHORT: None of this shit is real. I just like scary stories.
(Jump to: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13)
Katie stood on the last stair before the landing, the landing with the doorway to the third-floor hall. She held onto the rail and leaned forward, peering down the gloomy hallway. It was weakly lit by the fluorescent lights on the ceiling and by the light streaming from an open door, a room neighboring the stairs. Naturally, the room she needed to be in was all the way down the hall, last one on the left. She looked back down the stairwell, hoping someone would come running up and angrily ask why she was just standing there, didn't she realize taping was starting any minute, they needed that wizard's staff for the first act! But it was quiet.
She twisted her grip on the railing, feeling anxious. She was being stupid, letting her imagination get in the way of her work. She'd gotten this job because she had presented herself as energetic, hard-working, and responsible. In actuality, Katie had a hard time thinking of herself in that way, but she thought getting an internship in New York would bring her emotional and mental aspirations to the forefront. It had worked, too. After two weeks she was surprisingly comfortable navigating the subway, running out on errands in unfamiliar places, keeping up with the other staff when the evening fell and they had to kick everything into high gear so the show could start on time. She truly loved it here, and if she was offered a position for after graduation she wouldn't give it a second thought.
At least she wouldn't have until last Monday...
Katie bit her lip. It was all in her head. She was second-guessing herself. The meek part of her was still in her subconscious or something, trying to ruin everything. Any psychologist would tell her that. Any of the ones on TV, anyway, she was pretty sure. Regardless, she took that final step onto the landing and forced herself to march into the hall. She paused a moment, confirming that the world around her was still intact. She glanced into the room on her right, the one with the light left on. A spare office, mostly for interns to use. A desk, a computer, a chair. She tore her gaze away. She was using anything to distract herself.
One step forward. Another. A third. The cheap carpet was flat and hard under the soles of her sneakers. The lights overhead flickered and she stopped mid-stride, her insides constricting. They flashed brightly once, then went back to normal. She stood there, trying to keep silent, but her hastened breathing seemed to fill the whole floor. It was nothing, she told herself. Lights flickered all the time. Nothing. It's all in your head. Grow up. They're waiting.
She quickly walked to the end of the hall and opened the door to her left. She flicked on the lights and looked around the room, filled with props on shelves, in piles, and leaning up against the walls. It was crowded, and she immediately thought of all the creeping, crawling things that could hide in the clutter. The wizard staff was propped up in the back left corner. She rushed in, grabbed it, rushed out, and yanked the door shut behind her, holding onto the knob as if she expected something to force its way out. But there was no resistance from the other side, no sound but her breathing and her heart pounding in her ears.
She turned back to the head of the hallway and took a few steps before she stopped dead. The rectangle of light from the spare office, crossing with the light from the stairwell, was hollow, an oblong shadow in its middle.
Katie held the staff tightly with two hands, close to her body. "H-h..." She swallowed. "Hello?" The shadow moved, breaking the light completely in half, like someone in office had taken a step forward. "Who's there?" she squeaked.
The light in the room went out. And so did the ceiling light closest to the stairs. And then the one behind it, and the one behind that, and then the last, the one above her head. The bright stairwell waited at the end of a long dark tunnel, just beyond that room.
"Th-th-th-th-this isn't-isn't..." She closed her eyes. "Isn't funny!" she shrieked. God, if James or Maria or anyone was playing a joke on her, she'd kill them, she'd fucking kill them.
A hard click behind her, and her eyes opened wide. The squeak of the doorknob turning. She screamed in her mind for her legs to move, but they seemed as stiff as the staff she held. This wasn't any of the interns. None of it was. None of it had been anybody, not even herself. She heard the door creak open, only slightly, and somehow the sound cured her paralysis. Her legs buckled at first and she stumbled into the wall, but she shoved herself away from it and burst into a run. She looked past the door, to the stairs, she had to make it there, it wouldn't follow her there, just so long as she kept running.
Her outstretched fingertips breached the invisible border between the hall and the stairwell, and she was yanked back by her hair.
\\\\\\\\\\\\
Mark stood at the door that opened into the waiting room, propping it partway open as he watched two other interns organize themselves at the mouth of the alley. Two girls, the first of the night's audience, stared at them eagerly, hardly able to wait to get inside. He could easily picture the array of fans and people-dragged-by-fans lined up behind them. Six others waited nearby; he thought all the stand-by people might actually make it in. It was pretty cold, and some people tended not to come out in cold weather. He pulled the zipper of his jacket all the way up as one of the interns flipped through the papers on her clipboard, looking for the first girl’s name.
A door slammed open and when Mark turned to see who was making the racket, he saw a girl nearly pitch head-first down the stairs leading up to the front door. She latched onto the railing at the last second, yet instead of taking a moment to regain her balance she flung herself to the sidewalk and tried to run. She managed several feet and stumbled, falling on her hands and knees in front of him. He recognized her, another intern, Katie. He reached out as she scrambled to her feet. “Are you alright?”
She turned and looked at him. The sun had gone down and he only had the yellow light from the studio as his aid, but she still looked completely colorless, with the exception of long red cuts down the right side of her face, dribbling down her neck. She only kept eye contact for a split second before her gaze darted to the building and she lurched away from it like a drunk.
Mark darted after her and grabbed her arm. “Katie, what happened?!”
She didn’t seem able to answer. She just sobbed inarticulately as she tried to pull away from him. The audience line stared at the struggle in front of them in bewilderment. Mark felt incriminated, restraining Katie like this, but he wasn’t about to let her to go running off into the city hurt and hysterical. He tried to ask again what had happened, and she just shook her head, twisted away from him, and repeated, “Let me go let me go LET ME GO!”
She jerked her arm so hard out of his grasp that he nearly fell back and she completely fell forward. The line gasped and murmured. Mark saw a couple people start moving from their places. The two interns raised their hands and told them to stay put, to give Katie space and let Mark handle it. Mark knelt on the ground next to the girl, wary of touching her again, but just as afraid she’d run off. “What’s going on?” he said, keeping his voice soft. “Who did this?”
Sprawled face-down on the sidewalk, Katie planted her hands flat on the concrete and breathed hurriedly, eyes wide open, focusing on the solid ground. Mark had a clear view of her face now, of the claw marks. Yes, claw marks, like someone had dragged his or her nails down her face. Mark was about to tell one of his coworkers to go inside, to get one of the security guys,and call the police, when suddenly Katie’s eyes slammed shut and she screamed. The audience and staff gaped at her, at the sound, too intense, too fearful, alien.
Her voice waned to quiet sobs, and Mark realized he had to get her inside. She was a spectacle, the last thing anyone needed. He lightly put a hand on her arm. “Can I help you up, Katie? It’s okay. It’s okay now. I’ll help you up.” She didn’t move at first, but as he tugged a bit on her arm she pulled herself to her feet. She hung her head, hair masking her face.
Mark tried to lead her toward the audience door. “We’ll go inside, sit down, and talk, okay?”
Her head snapped up and she grabbed the front of his jacket. “No no no no no, not in there, I’m not going back there!” she cried, begging him, tears streaming down her face. He was too stunned to answer her right away, and she started screaming. “I’m not going back! I won’t! I won’t!”
“Okay!” he yelled, trying to appease her quickly, keep her calm. “We’ll just go over here, over by the park, okay?” He looked over Katie’s shoulder and said to the staffers, “Call the cops.”