monsters. Picturing rapists and burglars with knives when the wind scraped branches across the glass of her window. Seeing horror lurk where there was only a coat hanging from a hook.
I’m that easy to scare, thought Mariah. What are we doing? Why are we doing it?
This is night school, Autumn reminded herself. So even if it doesn’t seem right, it probably is. The instructor is in charge. He knows these things. Probably this is going to teach the SC that he shouldn’t have a teaching job. After this, he’ll work with computers in some fluorescent-lighted office. Or maybe it will make him strong and after this, he’ll be tough in the dark.
But he was not getting tougher. He was getting weaker. And it was very quick, like a nature film of jackal versus newborn antelope. How easy it was to terrify an adult to whom absolutely nothing was happening.
Autumn was slightly disappointed. Why wasn’t the SC putting up a fight? Wouldn’t it be more interesting to observe if he fought back, instead of dissolving like powder in water? She found herself getting irritated with the SC. If he was such a weakling, he deserved it.
Ned yearned to help the SC. But nobody else was objecting, and after all, not a whole lot was really happening. It wasn’t as if they were putting a knife in him, or hanging him by his ankles in a shark tank. Ned decided that things were a matter of degree, and this was very little, and so he didn’t have to help.
Mariah found she’d been holding her breath, and even though she was shadow and didn’t have lungs, she let out a long, fat huff of air. Since there was no body to do any breathing but the SC, he stared at Mariah’s shadow in utter horror.
Andrew clicked his tongue in appreciation. The film of this was priceless; he would blow this one up; it would be the trailer for the movie he’d follow it with; it would chill the hearts of people who loved scary stuff.
Of course the tongue click scared the SC even more. Andrew was laughing into the camcorder. Imagine being scared of so little!
Following the age-old need of people to turn the lights on, the SC summoned his courage and headed for the far wall on which the bank of switches lay.
He did not make it.
A shadow reached it first, extinguishing the only existing light.
Autumn’s shadow.
Autumn had turned into a cat, perhaps, teasing the mouse she would eventually strike down. She knew how badly the SC needed light, so she took it away. There wasn’t enough going on for Autumn; she wanted to up the ante.
Now not even the shadows could see the shadows.
And the Choice—he could see nothing. He barged into a tall stack of books, which gave Andrew an idea, and Andrew pushed a book off a shelf. The heavy book fell flat with a thud like a fist hitting a jaw.
The SC banged into a wall. They could hear his fingernails scrabbling against painted surfaces. “Please!” he cried, admitting that the dark was in control, and he was not.
A single light came back on and the SC was revealed, cowering, hair and cardigan askew, back pressed up against a wall.
The single light came from Andrew’s camcorder: a camera suspended in midair, filming without human hands and without robotic fingers.
The SC’s long wavering scream started at the top and broke like glass at the bottom. Abandoning his papers, the SC fought his way to the exit, battling shadows, his fingers leaping like little separate people.
Finally he was out, sobbing in the hall, trying to reach the exit from that dark place, too. He would only find more dark. But at least, different dark. Not trapped, indoor dark. Wide, unknown, outside dark.
Andrew lowered the camcorder. The minute his eye was removed from the camera, he returned to reality—such as it was.
Papers were scattered across two tables. Clearly, quizzes for a social studies class, the kind with long answers that take forever to grade.
My class! thought Andrew, startled, seeing his own paper in the stack. And that was no
I’m that easy to scare, thought Mariah. What are we doing? Why are we doing it?
This is night school, Autumn reminded herself. So even if it doesn’t seem right, it probably is. The instructor is in charge. He knows these things. Probably this is going to teach the SC that he shouldn’t have a teaching job. After this, he’ll work with computers in some fluorescent-lighted office. Or maybe it will make him strong and after this, he’ll be tough in the dark.
But he was not getting tougher. He was getting weaker. And it was very quick, like a nature film of jackal versus newborn antelope. How easy it was to terrify an adult to whom absolutely nothing was happening.
Autumn was slightly disappointed. Why wasn’t the SC putting up a fight? Wouldn’t it be more interesting to observe if he fought back, instead of dissolving like powder in water? She found herself getting irritated with the SC. If he was such a weakling, he deserved it.
Ned yearned to help the SC. But nobody else was objecting, and after all, not a whole lot was really happening. It wasn’t as if they were putting a knife in him, or hanging him by his ankles in a shark tank. Ned decided that things were a matter of degree, and this was very little, and so he didn’t have to help.
Mariah found she’d been holding her breath, and even though she was shadow and didn’t have lungs, she let out a long, fat huff of air. Since there was no body to do any breathing but the SC, he stared at Mariah’s shadow in utter horror.
Andrew clicked his tongue in appreciation. The film of this was priceless; he would blow this one up; it would be the trailer for the movie he’d follow it with; it would chill the hearts of people who loved scary stuff.
Of course the tongue click scared the SC even more. Andrew was laughing into the camcorder. Imagine being scared of so little!
Following the age-old need of people to turn the lights on, the SC summoned his courage and headed for the far wall on which the bank of switches lay.
He did not make it.
A shadow reached it first, extinguishing the only existing light.
Autumn’s shadow.
Autumn had turned into a cat, perhaps, teasing the mouse she would eventually strike down. She knew how badly the SC needed light, so she took it away. There wasn’t enough going on for Autumn; she wanted to up the ante.
Now not even the shadows could see the shadows.
And the Choice—he could see nothing. He barged into a tall stack of books, which gave Andrew an idea, and Andrew pushed a book off a shelf. The heavy book fell flat with a thud like a fist hitting a jaw.
The SC banged into a wall. They could hear his fingernails scrabbling against painted surfaces. “Please!” he cried, admitting that the dark was in control, and he was not.
A single light came back on and the SC was revealed, cowering, hair and cardigan askew, back pressed up against a wall.
The single light came from Andrew’s camcorder: a camera suspended in midair, filming without human hands and without robotic fingers.
The SC’s long wavering scream started at the top and broke like glass at the bottom. Abandoning his papers, the SC fought his way to the exit, battling shadows, his fingers leaping like little separate people.
Finally he was out, sobbing in the hall, trying to reach the exit from that dark place, too. He would only find more dark. But at least, different dark. Not trapped, indoor dark. Wide, unknown, outside dark.
Andrew lowered the camcorder. The minute his eye was removed from the camera, he returned to reality—such as it was.
Papers were scattered across two tables. Clearly, quizzes for a social studies class, the kind with long answers that take forever to grade.
My class! thought Andrew, startled, seeing his own paper in the stack. And that was no
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