Don't Turn On The Light: A Short Story by Max China

Author:Max China
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: suspense, mystery suspense, drama and mystery, psychic fiction, drama and haunted past

Back out in the corridor, a Wurlitzer jukebox draped in cobwebs, glowed, lighting up the corner, whirring away as a record dropped onto the turntable. Coloured neon flashed, projecting light all around him in a show of crazy psychedelia.

A process of elimination started and then stalled.

None of it made sense. Had he really woken up this morning? Would he awaken at any moment, still in bed next to Shelley? What the fuck is going on? Is this a panic attack? Jesus. Not again. Don’t lose it, Frank. Focus.

He closed his eyes and clasped his hands together, sucking in air and blowing it out between his thumbs. In, out, in, out. Deep-rooted fear gripped him. No, this isn’t how it started. This is something else. Inconsequential thoughts rose in his consciousness; things he hadn’t thought of in years. The fuse board. That’s why you’re here, Frank. Focus.

The humming intensified as he approached. The lights flared. Flickered. Then, went out.

Holy Jesus. Can’t see a thing. The filaments glowed orange, hit yellow, back to orange. He had to find the fuses before they failed completely.

With the jemmy inserted between the jamb and lock, both hands holding it firm, he pushed hard against it with his hip, steadily increasing the pressure. Come on! The frame splintered and the door creaked open.

Frank felt for the switch and turned on the light.

On the wall opposite, a black and white carnival flyer drew his eye. Emblazoned across the top, a fiery headline announced: Edward Sparkes and his Amazing Magnetic Magic Show – See the Doctor of Electricity perform his Death Defying Disappearing Stunts! Dropping his gaze, he took in the cruelly handsome image of the man who formed the centrepiece, Sparkes. Resplendent in his top hat, and dressed all in black, his smouldering eyes held him mesmerised. Frank nodded and winked at him, acknowledging that the turn-of-the-century magician looked the part. Below the portrait, he ran his eye over the sub-titles: Spiritualism, Sensation and Magic. Circus, Sideshows and Freaks. The print was incredibly sharp; the darkened room had preserved the ink. It hadn’t faded at all. He leaned closer, curious. Was it a reproduction? In the dull sheen of the inky background, Frank detected movement. Peering closer, next to Sparkes, the ghostly likeness of a curly blonde-haired stage assistant had appeared. She looked like an early version of Marilyn Monroe, and in the background surrounding them, a sinister group of fairground attractions loomed and then vanished.

No longer trusting his senses, he pinched himself, satisfied his imagination was playing tricks.

This was no darkroom. A bench ran the entire length of the wall below the poster. On top of it, constructed from an array of copper coils, glass vacuum tubes and valves, sat a strange apparatus that resembled the innards of an early radio transmitter.

His interest aroused; he approached the equipment for a better look. The filaments came to life, glowing red, orange, yellow. Humming. Turned white hot. Cast light onto the poster above. Particles of dust rose and hung like autumn mist, crackling with static electricity.

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