Darkness
It was that time of evening when the shadows were falling and darkness was invading the room. Darkness - that was the thought on my mind. What was waiting in those dark shadows just out of reach of the last shimmering rays of sunlight?
It was only minutes now until the room would be immersed in total darkness. It was just minutes before they would come creeping out of the dark corners of the room. What would be in those corners tonight?
Fear – that was the thing that kept them coming. Don’t fear the darkness. That is what they all said. There is nothing to fear. Over and over and over – but still when darkness came there was no one there except the creatures that came out of the corners of the room.
Go away, go away, go away was the chant. You are not real. But real they were. Those lovely green eyes peering through the darkness, they were real. No one that had seen them could say otherwise. Once you saw those eyes, you knew there was no turning back. There was no escape.
Tonight like other nights, the sunlight fled and darkness came. Waiting was the hard part, when would they come. Where are you, where are you, where are you was the whisper in the air. The chilling, magical whisper that came before they appeared.
Then those green eyes, coming out of the darkness, glowing, coming closer. Those magical green eyes that could peer right through you and cut into your soul, no these were not human at all.
Closer, closer, closer they came. Every night, closer, but still nothing else could be seen other than those green eyes. Pair after pair came, peering, burning a hole right through every thought, strangling every word before it could come out.
Every night, all night, those green eyes would be there. Waiting, waiting was what they did, just beyond reach as though they were waiting for a sign, waiting for something else, something that wasn’t human, something that never came.
Tonight, as the darkness crept in, it was there. That thing they were waiting for. That thing that was not human. The feeling was in the air. Those green eyes, how they sparkled, how they cracked, how they shattered. Tiny fragments of green glass painfully pierced the skin. Still, the voice was strangled – not a sound was made. It was there. In the darkest corner of the room – still waiting – waiting to take another tortured soul home.
© 2007 Sheri Ann Richerson
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This was a short story I wrote back in high school.
The Job
Chantel-Lise Dupont and her brother Jean-Philippe Dupont came to America from Dijon, France hunting for jobs.
Jean-Philippe was very good in mechanics, and had majored in it in high school, but he couldn’t speak English very fluently.
Chantel-Lise was pretty and had long, curly brown hair and pretty shining black eyes. She also had experience as a model, which was her only job during high school and even after she graduated.
“Why don’t we go to America to find work?”Chantel asked.
“Because I can’t speak English fluently enough, and I’d probably never find a job anyway. I might be good in mechanics, but in America they are more experienced,” replied Jean-Phillipe
“I know, but let’s try anyway.”
“O.K.,” replied Jean-Philippe.
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The next day they were off and heading for the Kennedy Airport in New York City.
Chantel-Lise said “Where are you going Jean-Philippe? I’m going to the Barbizon Plaza at 101 W. 58th Street to try and get a modeling job.”
“O.K., I’m going to the Waldorf Astoria. Tomorrow I’ll try to get a job. See you later!”
“O.K., bye....be careful,” replied Chantel-Lise.
They parted with plans to meet up at the hotel later that evening.
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“Hello, I’m Chantel-Lise and I used to be a model in France. I’ve come to America to find a job. Do you have any openings?”
“You’ll have to wait until tomorrow and make an appointment,” the desk clerk answered.
“O.K., that will be fine, what would be a good time to return?”
“The boss is busy at the moment, but if you would like to have a seat and wait, I’ll check as soon as I can.”
“O.K. that will be fine.”
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Just about that time a pretty young girl came storming out of the office. When she saw Chantel-Lise she paused.
“I would like to advise you not to work here,” she said to Chantel, then spinning on her heel she yelled “You can take this job and shove it! I’m going home! I would also advise you young lady to do the same.”
Before Chantel-Lise could say a word she left the room.
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“Well,” the desk clerk says, “here’s your chance. Be here at 6:30AM, and don’t be late! The boss looks down on anyone who’s late.”
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When Chantel-Lise got back to the hotel room Jean-Philippe was already asleep, so she decided she should get some rest too.
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The next morning they woke up at 5:00AM and went down to the lobby to have breakfast. Neither one said very much that morning.
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“Well, Jean-Philippe, I must go now, wish me luck.”
“Good luck Chantel-Lise!”
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As Chantel-Lise entered the room the desk clerk stood up and cleared her throat.
“Attention everyone!” she shouted, and waited for the room to quiet down. Then in a softer voice she said, “Please listen, the boss would like everyone to gather in the auditorium at once.”
As everyone filed into the auditorium Chantel-Lise saw her new boss for the first time. He was a big husky man with hard green eyes and sandy-blond hair.
“Be seated girls, quickly,” ordered the boss, “we haven’t time for this incessant chatter.”
They all quickly found seats and an instant hush fell over the room.
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“Very nice,” nodded the boss. “Now, if everyone, one at a time, will state their names, where they are from, and previous experience, let’s start in the left front corner.”
“Angie Marie Lewis, Charleston, Kentucky, none.”
They slowly went through each person, and Chantel-Lise was last.
“Chantel-Lise Dupont, Dijon, France, modeling.”
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“You are all dismissed except for Chantel-Lise and Angie Lewis who will see me right away.”
Grunts, groans, and “why them” went up from the crowd.
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“I’m Angie.”
“I’m Chantel-Lise.”
“I know, I know!” Impatiently the boss grunted “you have 5 minutes to prepare to do one of these stunts.” As he handed them a paper he said, “And this decides whether or not you get the job! So study! Pronto!”
“Yes sir,” they coursed in unison.
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When tryouts came, they were both good, but Chantel-Lise got the part.
“Sorry you didn’t make it Angie,” Chantel-Lise said, “you were really good!”
“It’s ok, I’ll try for the next part, goodbye.”
“Good luck, bye.”
“Enough, enough! Chanty get to work! Angie get out of here! Your job will be to model new fashions! Now get to work trying things on!”
“Yes sir.”
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That night on the radio Chantel-Lise heard Jean-Philippe was killed in a robbery. The only identification on him was a note that said “Dear Chantel, I’m going home. Love, Jean-Philippe.”
The radio announcer said “If you know the whereabouts of this person Chantel please notify the authorities, they need to talk to her.”
(C) 1984 Sheri Ann Richerson
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