Somewhere Among The Stars |
In apartment 21 on Walker Street the ghost busters themed played in a constant repeat as the movie kept rolling hours on end. A popcorn bowl had spilled over onto the floor where it had scattered in random patterns. The setting sun struggled to poke out form the dusty molding curtains, succeeding only a thin beam that ran along the room. It was ten PM when the alarm went off in frequent consistent beeps. Among the clutter of empty pizza boxes arose a porky man of about twenty who was less than ready for his night job. Last night this same man had received a notification retaining a brief description about mysterious clattering in the upstairs room of an old house and the address. Unable to find the source of the sound Mr. Proffit, if that was his real name, had called him suspecting the presence of a supernatural being giving the description of a possible poltergeist. The one called for the job was none other than Sam, the county loser and ghostbuster enthusiast. Sam, an investigator of the organization Paranormal Exorcisms and Extermination, was a huge hit on conspiracy sites as he strives day after day to prove the existence of the paranormal. Without realizing it he on a daily basis did the opposite, his only findings being the rats and shadows which roamed the walls of old buildings and spooked the locals but was little more than superstition. This particular call happened to be exactly that. He arrived at the house which was larger than the entire complex he lived in. Richard waited for him with darkened sockets for eyes, a scowl that could make demons whimper, and an irritated tapping of his foot. Despite his proud posture and fancy clothing he seemed less than gentlemanly. “Finally!” he said exasperated. “How do you do?” Sam asked in a polite manner tipping his hat. Something about the place made him want to seem as professional as possible, for Mr. Proffit, not so much. “Not an ounce of sleep! Not a wink!” he continued to say sternly. His left eye twitched a little as he spoke. “Day and night there’s a ghostly howling and the banging, what awful horrible sounds. No matter where I go in the house the awful banging follows me around everywhere! I swear if it’s my old man you send him to hell for the hell he gave me! You got me?” Sam took off his hat to scratch his head and placed it back on considering the scenario. Mr. Proffit looked between the acronym on his vest and truck. “Pee?” he asked with a confused face. Sam hung his head low knowing full well what was written in bright bold yellow. There goes being professional. “I didn’t make it up…” he said defensively. It was a stupid name for a company acronym, he was sure it was done on purpose as a joke. “Never mind then,” Proffit continued “Just kill whatever it is and be done with it. I’m exhausted on a daily basis because of some stupid noise.” “Can I have a look about then?” Sam asked remaining uninvited to the house. The thought seemed to have struck exhausted Mr. Proffit only then. “Yes, of course.” He answered meekly. The inside of the house was just as big as it seemed on the outside. There had been no evidence of major aging other than the large amount of dust covering the walls and floor.
1 Comment
Tim Martin
3/28/2017 12:53:09 pm
I really like the detail you put in this. I also love the connection yo put between everything. The beginning, wit that sense of mystery, and the horror that's hanging right over my head. What you could work on is commas. I noticed a critical lack of commas. I think the style of this is excellent, and it should flow exactly how it is.
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AuthorFiction and science fiction short stories written by Alanna Shae. Reveiws and random writings also by Alanna Shae. Also inspirational works not done by Alanna Shae. Archives
April 2017
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