8

Chad stood in the foyer staring at the two doors of the funeral parlor.  Both led to a seemingly long hallway and Chad only knew the name of the room (The Rose Room).  He looked at his watch�"he was still early for the wake, so everyone should be at the prayer service where the funeral would be tomorrow.  He chose the left because, form what he could see, the lights were on, and we had had quite enough of the dark back at his place.  He opened the heavy door and a wall of cold air flooded the foyer.  The door softly closed itself behind him with a tiny, echoing click.  Doors lined the hall diagonally from each other so you couldn’t see into any room while standing in another�"though that didn’t matter with all the doors closed.  They all had numbers instead of names, so eventually he quickened his pace and focused on the end of the hall, which might have another door, rather than the numbers on the closed doors.  He passed a room with the door opened but didn’t really notice it until he heard a rapid clicking sound further down the hall.  He turned around�"maybe someone in there would know where to find the Rose Room.  He could tell there were people sitting on folding chairs inside, but it took him a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dark.  He realized a projector was in the middle of the room, clicking in the same way that caught his attention.  It was playing home movies; a really smiley kid vacuumed the leaves with his toy vacuum and the camera shook with the holder’s laughter.  He decided to leave when his heart sunk�"everyone in the room was craning their neck to watch Chad.  He heard his mom talking�"she was the one holding the camera and he was the one playing with the leaves.  Smiley baby Chad kicked them up and fell into their piles while his young mother held the camera.  His eyes darted from the deathly still, wide-eyed audience�"each person still staring at him�"and himself on the screen. 

 

He tried to look more closely at the people but he couldn’t stare for long.  Baby Chad laughed in the leaves and reached up to touch at the nothingness in the air around him, holding it tight like a balloon string.  He looked back at the audience�"they were smiling.  He stumbled backwards to leave the room but hit something with his thigh.  He reluctantly turned his gaze from the scene in front of him to the closed casket that blocked the door.  It popped open and the same dead Chad as before overwhelmed him until he felt a limp, heavy arm rest its hand on his shoulder.  He heard his own shock travel down his spine like a seashell when you hold it to your ear. 

 

“Chad?  Are you Chad?”  He recognized the voice; it was Mrs. Gomez.  He turned around slowly, still expecting all the people to be there, but they were all gone and the projector clicked a white light onto the screen.  “Thank you for coming,” she said as she looked up at him with red but familiar eyes�"they were Mariah’s eyes. 

 

 

 

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Reviews

[Aeneas Barton]

As I read this I can't help but think of David Lynch, maybe it's just be. A few times above you break the fourth wall by having the narrator include the audience as a subject. (ex: "...and we had had quite enough of the dark back at his place" or "you couldn't see into any room" I think the story should maintain his perspective in order to maintain the creepy/horror/suspenseful feel you build up