In Amber Light

This story was written as an entry in the 2022 NYCMidnight Flash Fiction Contest. I had a weekend to write a <1,000 word story with the following prompts:

Genre = Suspense // Location = A Darkroom // Object = A Ladder

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Julia stepped out of the taxicab into the early morning air, the sunrise barely breaking through the darkness over the trees to the east. Her house remained as she remembered. The red front door wore a cheap decoration with the stylized lettering ‘Welcome Spring,’ despite it being well into summer. The white paint of the siding near the left corner was still chipped and peeling.

“So much for ‘I’ll be super productive while you’re away.’” She rolled her eyes. Quentin hadn’t even come to the airport to pick her up like they’d planned, his ancient, rusting car slumbering silently in the driveway. Her mother’s shrill accusations rattled around her head. Irresponsible. Jobless. He wasn’t jobless. He just liked to do small projects here and there, creative and independent–two of her favorite attributes. Irresponsible, though? Maybe that had some truth.

A breeze, too cool for this time of year, rustled through the trees and wrapped around her bare arms. The weather had been much nicer in Namibia. She rubbed away the goosebumps and walked to the door.

Inside, the lights were off. Fruit flies buzzed around a stack of dirty dishes in the kitchen. Typical. Run off to volunteer for a month and everything at home goes to shit. She removed her shoes and tiptoed upstairs so she could smack a pillow on her boyfriend’s face.

Julia slowly opened the bedroom door, trying not to wake Quentin. The room was dark and she slid her way over to the bed, then grabbed a pillow. She took aim at the far side of the bed.

And hit nothing but mattress.

She flicked on the light.

No Quentin.

Where the hell was he?

Maybe he’d finally turned the basement into a home workshop like he planned.

Julia returned to the main floor and approached the basement door, which rested slightly ajar. No light shown through the crack. He wouldn’t be down there in the dark, would he?

She opened the door and instinctively reached up to pull the string on the overhead light, but nothing happened. The socket above stared down at her, empty, like the eye of a skull.

“Oh, right…”

She used her phone flashlight to light her way down the rickety metal ladder–which had ‘tentatively’ replaced the broken stairs. Her bars of service dropped with each step.

“This fucking house.”

At the bottom of the stairs she could hear the sound of trickling water through the dark.

Luckily, the lightswitch for the basement worked and the room flooded into view.

The walls were freshly painted charcoal and lined haphazardly with sheets of black egg carton foam. Along the back wall, a large bench had been constructed beside a sink that had never been there before, the faucet running gently. Three rows of string were draped from the ceiling, each with four or five black and white photographs clipped to it. 

Julia weaved through the photos toward the sink, not recognizing anyone in them. As she did, she couldn’t help but notice none of the subjects looked at the camera, like they had no idea they were being photographed.

In the sink, a photo floated face down in a plastic bin, which spilled over with water. Julia turned off the faucet and flipped the photo. In black and white, Quentin knelt by a flower bed, spade in hand as he plucked weeds from the soil.

“What the hell?” Julia whispered.

She stepped over to the left where more shallow liquid-filled basins were set up on the table. A typed note had been taped to the table in front of a closed plastic box.

“Open box,” she read. “One minute in developer. Agitate. Ten seconds in stop. Two minutes in fixer. Rinse.”

“This isn’t funny, Q!” she called out, a dull headache rising deep in her skull. Probably from annoyance.

The lights went out.

A small lamp above the table blinked on, bathing the area in a dim amber glow.

“This really isn’t funny!”

What was this? Some kind of elaborate proposal?

Julia tentatively opened the box, which contained a blank piece of photo paper. Curiosity got the better of her. She placed the undeveloped photo in the first basin and rocked it back and forth.

The picture slowly bled through the white. 

It was her.

Standing in front of a taxi. Wearing the same clothes she wore now. On her own street.

Julia stumbled back.

She sprinted back to the ladder. The door above was closed, but she’d left it open. Hadn’t she?

Scrambling up, she twisted the door knob. Locked. She slammed on the door with clenched fists, but it didn’t budge.

Dizziness swarmed her senses. From fear, or something else? Her legs went weak and a foot slipped. She tumbled down the ladder, her face slamming against a metal rung, arms scraping against the hard edges as she tried to catch herself and failed. The floor met her legs, but they collapsed and she fell to a heap on the cold cement.

She lay there in amber light for several minutes, blood dribbling from a cut lip.

Then came the nausea.

She didn’t move–couldn’t move–as she coughed bile through her mouth and nose.

Her eyelids threatened to close, body drained of all energy. She resisted until she could no longer.

And sleep took her.

* * *

A man stood in the dark of a stranger’s basement, a gasmask donned over his pale face, lit only by the amber glow of a single bulb. He’d already packed his photos neatly into a carrying case in chronological order. Except one.

He plucked the final photo from its string, admiring it in the lamplight. A man and woman lay side-by-side in bed, hands clasped, eternally slumbering. He’d never photographed a couple before. A new accomplishment.

He exited the house and closed the red door behind him. Without the mask, he breathed in the fresh air, tightened the knot of his tie snug enough to hurt, then walked down the street. Just another man.

(c) Kade Kessler 2022

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If you enjoyed this story (or hated it) or have any feedback at all let me know in the comments below! If you want to read more by me head over to my Short Stories page!