Sinking (6/13)

Nov 14, 2008 18:42

Title: Sinking, Part 6
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: Ouija boards always make things better!

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 is real. I just like scary stories.

(Jump to: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13)

“We have a tenuous lunch break as it is, you know,” James grumbled. He closed the door, cutting off the light from the hall, and squinted into the candlelit room.

Three other interns-- Maria, Eileen, and Drew-- sat on the floor of the prop room. They'd cleared away items that had been lying on the floor, but even then it was a tight squeeze between the shelves, enough for little more than one person. The Ouija board laid on the floor with Maria and Drew on either end. Eileen sat behind Maria, off to the side so she could look over her shoulder. James followed her lead and sat behind Drew with his back against the shelves, looking around the other boy at the board.

“This shouldn't take that long,” Maria replied. “Not with a spirit this... potent.”

“If it's a spirit,” James said.

“If you didn't think so, you wouldn't be here,” she said tersely.

“I'm just curious.”

“Can we do this before we burn the room down?” Eileen broke in, eyeing the candles on the shelves.

Maria flashed James an annoyed look. “Yeah.” She set her fingertips on the Ouija's pointer. “Touch it feather-lightly,” she told Drew. “Okay, now everyone clear your heads. Really feel for the energy in the room. And no laughing.”

James rolled his eyes.

“Okay.” She cleared her throat and trained her gaze on the pointer. “If there is anyone with us tonight, make yourself known.”

Silence. Eileen moved closer to Maria. “Aren't there any, like, magic words to start this off?” Eileen asked.

Maria shook her head and concentrated on the board. “If there's any entity here with us right now, please concentrate your energy. Move the planchette.”

Nothing again. Not even a strange flicker of the candles.

“Please tell us who you are and why you're doing these things.”

Nothing.

James snorted. “This is stupid,” he grumbled.

“It's probably you,” Maria grunted. “Your skepticism is pushing it away.”

“I think the fact that it doesn't exist is pushing it away,” he retorted, walking to the door. “I'm gonna get some chicken caesar salad.”

“Good riddance.”

James twisted the doorknob-- or tried to. It wouldn't turn. He frowned and tried again, then rattled the knob, then jammed his shoulder against the door. “Who locked us in?” he said, looking warily to the others. They watched him nervously.

“There... There's not a lock on that door,” Drew said.

“Funny,” James muttered, slamming his shoulder into it again.

“I'm fucking serious, man.”

“Must be stuck then.”

On the board, the planchette twitched. Maria and Drew recoiled. Eileen grabbed Maria's shoulder and whispered, “Ohmigod.”

James crept over to watch the pointer. It twitched again, then spun slowly in a circle. Only then did it slide smoothly across the board, stopping on the P. After a moment, Maria returned her fingers to the pointer and whispered for Drew to do the same. He hesitated, but did so. Almost immediately the planchette moved to four more letters, repeating one. P-R-E-T-T-Y. Drew slowly withdrew his hands.

“Pretty?” Eileen whispered. “What does it mean by that?”

“This is fucked up,” James said, taking the few steps back to the door and jerking on the knob. “This is fucked the fuck up.”

Maria swallowed hard and gestured for Drew to put his hands back on the pointer. He gave her a wide-eyed look and shook his head. “Just do it!” she hissed. He shook his head again.

“I'll do it,” Elizabeth said, still talking softly as if the spirit would be scared away. Drew slid back away from the board and she took his place. With both girls' fingertips on the pointer, Maria spoke again.

“What's your name? Who are you?”

No response. James pounded on the door again and again. The air was filled with his harsh breathing. Drew got to his feet and stared at the board warily.

“Please, talk to us,” Maria went on.

All the candles but one went out. Eileen shrieked and ripped her hands away from the board. Maria seemed frozen, fingers stiffly glued to the pointer. James slammed his whole body into the door and the room shook, the only lit candle wobbling on its high perch on the topmost row of shelves.

“Stop that!” Eileen shouted.

James let go of the door and glared at her, about to shout, and the room trembled again.

“What the...” Drew breathed.

“The candle!” Eileen cried, scrabbling to her feet. “Before--”

Another tremor and the candle toppled over. It was only a moment before the shelf was overcome with flames. Panic set in as the fire licked downward, and James smashed all his weight into the door over and over. Maria screamed for someone to find a fire extinguisher, and Eileen just screeched. Drew joined James in ramming the door, but it did not open. The room got hotter and hotter. The girls shielded their faces as they backed toward the boys. The fire reached the board on the floor, and it blackened and curled.

The door popped open, and James and Drew tumbled into the hall, the girls stumbling after and over them. Carrie grabbed the backs of their shirts, pulling them away from the fire before running down the hall and yanking open a small red metal door in the wall. As she pulled out the extinguisher and removed the pin, the smoke alarm shrieked and the sprinklers went off. She ran back to the prop room and sprayed it down, shouting at the four interns to get outside. They did not hesitate, and despite the water did not take their time.

\\\\\\\\\\\\

“We hired you to be responsible adults who would help us out with the show because they wanted to learn,” Stephen said. He set his stern gaze on the young women and men, but they stared at the floor. Their clothes and hair were still damp. “You nearly got yourselves killed, not to mention the damage to studio property.”

“Mr. Colbert,” Eileen spoke up. She flinched preemptively, expecting to be berated.

“Yes?” Stephen said, keeping calm.

She seemed to relax a bit. “Mr. Colbert, everything was fine until that quake made the candle fall.”

“Quake?” Stephen repeated. “When was that? And that's besides the point. The candles shouldn't have been in there. You shouldn't have been in there.”

“The room did shake,” Maria insisted. “I felt it.”

“That was me,” James said, voice in monotone. “When the door was stuck, and I hit it to get it open.”

“You weren't hitting the door when the candle fell!” Eileen insisted, nearly in tears.

“We were panicked, and now we're in trouble,” James said impassively. “Obviously we'd like to remember things differently.”

“Why are you lying?” Eileen demanded, hands balling into fists.

“There's no such thing as ghosts,” James snapped, whipping his head toward her. “Grow up.” He turned back to Stephen. “Carrie says it's up to you if you want us to stay, but I... I don't feel comfortable working here anymore.”

This surprised Stephen, and he couldn't think of anything to say. James stepped up to the desk and held out his hand. Stephen reflexively shook it. James didn't look up from the desk. “I really did enjoy working here, Mr. Colbert. Thank you for the opportunity.”

“If... if that's your decision.” When James walked out, part of Stephen wanted to call him back and make him reconsider. But he couldn't. He felt sympathy for the interns, but they'd put the whole building in danger for the sake of conjuring a ghost, for a silly Ouija game. It didn't matter what James chose.

“I'm sorry, guys,” Stephen said to the remaining interns, “but we can't keep you on after this.”

Eileen choked back a sob and hurried out of the office. Maria nodded once and followed quietly. Drew remained behind. He hadn't said a word the whole time, but seemed to be bringing up his nerve now. Stephen waited.

“It was stupid to have the séance up there,” Drew said. “And, yeah, we don't deserve to be here anymore. But Mr. Colbert...” He looked Stephen in the eye. “There is something going on in this building. You need to be careful before something worse happens.”

Drew nodded in farewell and left.

\\\\\\\\\\\\

The show that night was more off-kilter than the night before. Stephen knew it was partially the material, but he'd also noticed as he ran into the studio to warm up the audience that their applause and cheers were muted. No matter what he did, he just couldn't get their energy up, and that just threw him off even more. His mind was sluggish, and thinking as his character became a chore. It was like translating from English to Spanish instead of just thinking in Spanish.

After the show was over and he changed and washed his face, Stephen closed his office door and sat quietly at this desk. He was tempted to turn off the light, so bright that it seemed loud, but the thought of sitting in the dark wasn't welcoming. He turned to the window-- the new window, glass flawless-- and looked outside. Down on the sidewalk he saw a group of young women talking animatedly. He rolled backwards and turned back to his desk.

His phone rang. Probably Jimmy in the editing room, wondering where he was. Stephen didn't answer.

He looked back out the window. The girls would wait hours, he knew, even if the show had been a disaster. Normally he would say hello on his way out, let them know if he was in a hurry and had no time for pictures, or if he was just tired and wanted to get home. He was tired tonight, yet... he didn't want to be home. Not like this. He didn't know if the drive home would be long enough to let go of not just his character, but this dismal feeling of failure.

He debated calling Jon, but decided not to. He'd bombarded Jon with the state of the studio enough over the past week. Besides, he knew they'd have a long talk about the show tomorrow anyway, once Jon saw what a disaster it had turned out to be. Once Jon started to see that Stephen was losing control over the Report's production. It had been bad enough earlier when Stephen had to call and tell him about the fire. He wasn't sure if he could deal with more of that incredulity, that disappointment.

Stephen had told Jon that he would settle things down, that he would meet with the staff again about their behavior. But he knew he couldn't guarantee Jon anything. Not a damn thing.

God, he hadn't felt this helpless in years.

rating: pg-13, author: gaiafaye, series: the colbert report, pairing: none, series: rpf

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