writing from
Scars Publications

Audio/Video chapbooks cc&d magazine Down in the Dirt magazine books

 

This writing was accepted for publication
in the 108 page perfect-bound ISSN# /
ISBN# issue/book
Lonely Visitor
Down in the Dirt
v209 (7/23)



Order the paperback book:
order ISBN# book
Down in the Dirt

Order this writing in the book
2023 in a Flash
the 2023 flash fiction & art
collection anthology
2023 in a Flash (2023 flash fiction and art book) get the 298 page flash fiction
& artwork & photography
collection anthology
as a 6" x 9" ISBN#
paperback book:

order ISBN# book

Acromatic

Chelsea Orozco

    
James sat at his desk looking quizzically at his board on the wall. He had several index cards, pictures and articles tacked on.
He went over to the refrigerator and found only empty beer bottles; what did expect? A miracle? The window to the left of his office dispersed an orange gleam on his desk causing
a warm hue to spread around the room. James’ peace of mind was broken when the phone on his desk rang. He went over, moved over a few more empty beer bottles on his desk and picked it up.
    “Hello! Sorry to
bother, but I have a
job in which I think you would be very interested!”
    “Tell me this; Why should I take a job off of some no-name caller?”
    “Oh, apologies, my name is uh- Charles. I’m uh- part of a detective agency that hires people with your... unique skill set.”
    James was just desperate enough to take the bait.
    “Okay, Charles, what job?”
    “I see that you are fond of unnatural mysteries, mister...?”
    “James.”
    “James. For this job, you need to investigate an abandoned diner. All the color from this diner seems to have been drained, and its occupants are unaccounted for. Your job is to make sense out of it all.”
    “Sorry, you said the color
drained?
What do you mean?”
    “I mean the place looks like it’s from a noir film - you know, just black and white. When you approach the diner, everything you can see - including the sky - turns achromatic. If you do not wish to accept, understand you will be missing out on a significant reward.”
    Now James was listening.

    “Reward?”
    “If you return to me unlike the others, then your reward is anything you can ask for.”
    “Anything?”
    “If you want money - and just money - you can have an unlimited amount. If it’s only objects, then three objects of any kind.”
    “Okay, I accept.”
    “Wonderful! Well I can’t
do much else except arrange you a ride
- which I have already done - and wish you good luck.”
    James puts the phone in his pocket and looks out the window to see a black car already waiting. The windows are tinted so he couldn’t see inside.

    James knocked on the passenger side of the car. The window rolled down to show a chauffeur with a big, stretched smile. James had never seen someone so gosh darn dandy for no reason. He swallowed his reservations and got in the car.

    When they arrived, James saw that what Charles had said was true; everything had lost color. No sooner had he closed the car door, the chauffeur peeled out of the lot with a squeal of rubber on pavement.

    James looked up at the diner. All the lights were on. Inside he saw no one, and this gave him a wave of loneliness and unease. He had been alone for most of his life without ever feeling this lonely. He felt a heavy presence of malevolence surrounding him. In reality nothing was happening.

    The inside of the diner was well lit and looked active despite its emptiness. There were a dozen gray bar stools and a gray counter to go with the set. It looked like a diner from the 50s in a film noir. On the counter there was a napkin with hurried writing. As James read it, a wave of trepidation consumed him:
    PLEASE SOMEONE HELP! I’M THE ONLY ONE LEFT. IT’S CO-
    James now started looking all over the diner with urgency hoping to find any clue to where all the people had gone. He looked in the kitchen, the outside, the bathroom, everywhere. Then finally he went out behind the diner.

    In the back alley there was a dimly lit dumpster, but something just barely caught James’ eye. The ground had scratches leading beneath the dumpster. He grabbed hold of the dumpster’s handles and dragged it aside to reveal a colorless trap door. James convinced himself to open it, and revealed a pitch-black hole. He took a swig from his flask as he eyed the
too-convenient
iron ladder. He made his descent.
    When he reached the bottom, his eyes lay on something that would forever shake him. It was a long hallway, only slightly lit by the pulsating glow of different colored
jelly-like cocoons stuck to the wall.
He had found the people of the diner. The cocoons were the first splash of color he’d seen in hours.
    James walked down the hallway for nearly thirty minutes, shocked at how many people there were. He wondered if any of them were foolish detectives like himself. When he finally reached the last cocoon, it was empty. The hall continued, but before James could go on further, he heard a familiar, almost mechanical
voice come from behind him. “Don’t be frightened, James.”
    James turned to have a razor-sharp edge pierce right through his chest, so swift and silent he didn’t realize he had been stabbed for a good few seconds. When it sank in, he felt a rush of pain and misery. He looked at the blade and it seemed to be made of a silvery pearl material. Almost holographic. He felt the strength of it
and was suspended in the air like a helpless child.

    His eyes followed the blade up and saw that it turned out to be part of a humanoid’s arm. Its whole body was the same pearly material as its blade. Its head was completely smooth and featureless, save for two glowing red and blue dots. James gasped out,
“Wh-Why...?”
    “I’m-“
    Its
robotic voice changed mid-sentence.
    “- doing this for the same reason you even thought of coming...”
    James knew this voice.
    “For the same reason you even came...”
    It was right there.
    “The same reason you continued to investigate...”
    No, it can’t be.
    “You were desperate... and so am I.”
    The blade retracted from James’ chest and he dropped to the floor twitching and hemorrhaging. Before he lost consciousness, James sputtered, “Charles?”



Scars Publications


Copyright of written pieces remain with the author, who has allowed it to be shown through Scars Publications and Design.Web site © Scars Publications and Design. All rights reserved. No material may be reprinted without express permission from the author.




Problems with this page? Then deal with it...