Story a Day in May – Story 2

Dead Space

by J. Smith Kirkland

Prentice is sure the door was closed and locked on leaving this morning. Uncertain if someone might still be in the apartment, it seems the best thing to do is call out before entering.

“Hello! Is someone in there?”

Then give them time to escape, and maybe suggest a route.

“I am coming in now to check that the bedroom window with the fire escape is still closed!”

Count to 10. Maybe 20.

Prentice cautiously enters the apartment leaving the the door ajar just in case a quick exit is required. Peeks in the kitchen. No one there. The bathroom. No one there. Thank goodness the shower curtain is open. Deep breath, and into the bedroom. No one there. The window is closed. And locked. That leaves one place. The closet.

Prentice looks around for some defensive weapon. The candle stick on the dresser. Prentice can't help but snicker internally, “A lead pipe would have been better.” With a raised weapon, and a quick jerk, Prentice is looking at the inside of the closet prepared to swing and scream. But there are only clothes and boxes. Hardly any room to hide in there anyway.

Back in the living room Prentice shuts the door and locks it. There is no need to call the police. The tv is there as is the laptop and jar of change on the shelf. Those are the only things of value in the apartment. Besides, Prentice does not care to hear the attempt at jokes they would make, “shouldn't a psychic know their apartment was going to be broken into?”

Prentice moves toward the kitchen, thinking a cola and some pie would be the perfect thing to stop the brain for worrying about this incident. But from behind, the door lock clicks. Prentice spins to see that it is now unlocked. Rushing back to the door, Prentice locks it back and peers out the peep hole. No one else has a key. Do they? No. The landlord doesn't even know yet that the lock was changed. Then without waiting for Prentice to turn around this time, the lock clicks open, as if to say, “pay attention.”

“Oh. So that's it. Look, I have had a long tiring day. I am in no mood for a haunting. Come back tomorrow.”

Prentice twists the bolt back to the locked position, and goes back to the kitchen. The ghost seems to have left, or at least has agreed to not bother Prentice right now. By bedtime, the incident is forgotten, and nothing breaks a restful sleep, until the alarm sounds.

The day begins like all others, get ready for work, check the appointment calendar, check the emails, check the texts, eat a fast breakfast, and then head to the store to do readings. But this morning, just when Prentice was picking up an umbrella to take along, the door lock clicks.

“You again? Look, I don't have time for this. You play with the lock all day, and some live person could get in here and take my stuff.”

The response? The door opens.

“That's it!”

Prentice puts the umbrella down and grabs some smudging tools. A nice bundle of sweetgrass and cedar should do the trick. The effort is done hastily and with muttering, without the calm pageantry that would have been used at a clients home. It should work just the same. It's just always good to be zen in front of clients. And the first appointment is in thirty minutes.

After another long day with back to back appointments from 10am to 7pm, Prentice arrives back at the apartment. Wet, because the umbrella was still inside. The door is closed and locked. Prentice sighs, “Good. I just need to relax this evening.” And after a good meal, and an episode of a new dark comedy series, it seems that was happening. Then the door lock clicks.

“Seriously?”

Prentice goes over and locks the door. It immediately unlocks. Prentice locks it again. It stays locked, but there is a crash on the other side of the room, and the sound of coins bouncing and rolling.

“You broke my jar! That was a great jar!”

The kitchen cabinet doors fly open. Prentice waits in anticipation for what happens next. Instead of the expected flying dishes, just one glass trembles slightly. Then it falls out of the cabinet like a cat had knocked it over.

“What do you want? Look, I like this place and I am not going to be scared away from it.”

As Prentice waits for an answer as if talking to someone living in the room, the door on the corner cabinet under the counter starts vibrating open and closed.

“There's nothing in there but Tupperware.”

Prentice opens the cabinet revealing more lids than bowls, and some bowls with no lids. Tupperware. Tupperware and dead space.

“Wait.”

Prentice looks in the other corner cabinet. Sure enough there is a side on both cabinets, blocking off all that unused space in the corner. Then on hand and knees, Prentice clears out the plastic bowls and lids, and begins looking for a way into the dead space. The inside panel is loose. With very little effort Prentice pushes it into the dead space. It's hinged like a door. The cellphone light reveals book just inside the opening.

“So, this is what you want me to see.”

Prentice sits on the couch and opens the book. It's a diary.

“This is you?”

It's the diary of a writer. Apparently a successful one. The apartment was just a place to get away from the home in the countryside. A place to write. After an hour Prentice reaches the last page of the diary:

Tomorrow the manuscript for the third Horizons Below book comes out of hiding and goes to the publisher. The readers are going to be upset when I kill the main character off in the end, but I am ready to move on to a different series.

There are only empty pages after that. Prentice googles 'Horizons Below.' It was supposed to be a trilogy, but the author died before the third book was published. The manuscript was never found. Prentice looks around the room for the ghost.

“You never got to publish it? That's so sad. It would be worth a fortune.”

The door on the corner cabinet under the counter starts vibrating again. Prentice with eyes widened, is armed with a real flashlight this time, and is rewarded with a cardboard box hidden if the back corner. Inside a paper manuscript, and a flash drive.

Prentice comes back to the apartment, unlocks the door, opens it, walks in, and sits a suitcase down. The trip to London was great, but it's nice to be home. The door closes behind him, and the lock clicks by itself.

“You know we could afford a much nicer place now? ”

The door lock clicks open then closed again.

“Yeh, me too. I like it here.”

The Prompt

Suppose your character returns home from work, parks their car, rides up in the elevator, walks down the hall. Usually, by now the dog is barking and scratching at the door, but today he’s not. As they get closer, they realize the door to their apartment is ajar. They inch closer, listening. Silence. Write the story, and what happens next.

Story A Day Framework

A psychic is haunted by a ghost.

So the psychic tries to make it go away

and because of that the ghost gets angry and haunts more

and because of that the psychic amps up the exorcism of the ghost

until the ghost finally reveals their identity and why they are there

and they live happily ever after