Saturday April 7, 2024 1:18 p.m.
The back stairwell leading from the "employees only" door to the projection room seemed much dustier than Amber had expected. When she had made the mistake of taking hold of the guardrail, her hand came away with a candy floss-like mass of cobwebs attached to it. Granted, the last time she had been up the metal spiral staircase was about three years ago when Max had his accident. Still, nothing could explain the extensive decay of the cramped space in comparison to the rest of the theater, the decay of which had barely been noticable in comparison. The iron had become so rusted that Amber was somewhat justified in her fear of climbing it as opposed to her usual inexplicable fear of narrow spiral staircases. It groaned and creaked like Marley's ghost and chains in "A Christmas Carol."
Amber wondered why the girl had gone in here as opposed to the patron stairwell on the other side of the theater leading to the balcony. She looked up knowing that she wouldn't see the girl, not so much because she would disappear as these figments usually do, but because the stairwell was so narrow that looking up only caused the person climbing it to see the bottom of the stairs above. Amber closed her eyes, the headache still had control. Nonetheless, she wished she could hear like her brother could, just so she could hear the little girl's footsteps with the hard rubber soles softly clanging up the staircase. Even with her eyes closed, all Amber could see was the stairway continuing, spinning its way up...up..up.
Her stomach lurched upward and fell back down again like on the gravity spin ride at the county fair when she was seven. For the second time in her life, she thought she understood what it felt like to be a pair of jeans in the spin cycle of the washing machine. She could taste something bitter and burning at the back of her throat. The thick cobwebs veiled her as she leaned against the railing, struggling to stay standing. She squeezed her eyes closed even tighter as if it would make it all just stop. All she wanted was for it to all stop. As she fell backward, Amber could finally feel the world slowing down.
Amber opened her eyes to find her headache has evaporated into the dusty air like some sort of bad dream. Yet she is still in the theater stairwell, rather than waking up in her bed in the hotel room or in her cheap apartment miles from here. To her surprise, she had not tumbled all the way down, but only woke up with her head a few steps below where her feet had caught on the lower ridge of one of the steps. Now as opposed to her head aching like hell, it felt like someone had caught her right ankle in one of those bear traps hunters used to use more than a century or so ago.
As her vision adjusted to objects further away from her own body, Amber could see the girl, stepping down the stairs with her sailor dress as white as ever. This time she was smiling like she could actually see Amber. This couldn't have been possible. They weren't supposed to be able to interact with the living. Yet there she was, smiling warmly and reaching out her little hand to Amber as if offering to help her up.
Not sure how to react, Amber extended her hand hesitantly. To her complete amazement, the girl who was half her size was able to help her completely to her feet. Imagine that, Amber's ankle wasn't as bad as she had thought. Nonetheless, she hobbled her way up the stairs, following her rather impatient, yet adorable curly-locked companion. The little girl held Amber's left hand, occasionally tugging it in an attempt to make her go faster. Amber's right hand pressed against the railing as she leaned against it for support, which was probably a laugh considering how rusted it was. She was surprised that it didn't snap, causing splintered shards of rusted iron to embed into her skin. What was a little tetanus and ankle-spraining compared to finding some sort of universal truth about the human existence anyway?
Once they got to the projection booth, the door was open. The booth was in surprisingly good shape and not as cobwebbed and dusty as the stairwell leading to it. The paint on the walls was more or less intact. For some reason, the metal cabinets were open and full of reels. One folding chair stood in front of the small window in the wall facing the screen. Amber could see that the machine was on, but the reel needed to be changed since the old one flopped around and around as the light beamed nothing but a white blank on the screen. Amber tried to peer below to see where David had gone, but couldn't see anything but the darkness surrounding the white light.
Amber felt a tugging on her jacket from behind her. The little girl held up a reel. For a moment, Amber couldn't help but think, "What the hell does she expect me to do with this? I don't know how to operate one of these gizmos considering they've been obsolete for years." Nonetheless, it seemed somewhat straightforward, just replace the reel, thread it through and clip it onto the empty reel. As to why it seemed to second-nature to her now, she figured it would be best not to question it.
Knowing that trying to talk to the little girl in the sailor dress would be useless, Amber gave her a look as if to ask "Now what?" To which the girl raised an eyebrow and pointed out the projection booth window, her little arm almost parallel with the stream of light projecting out to the screen.
Leaning on her elbows while sitting in the chair, Amber stared at the screen. It was nothing but the same white blankness she had seen before. Turning around again, she saw the girl impatiently pointing outward again as if to tell her to keep looking and that she was dumb for looking away for even a moment. Amber sighed and rolled her eyes, listening to the rattling spin of the projection reel and staring at the bright blank screen. Her eyes started to hurt again, but every now and again, she got random flashes of solid images. As soon as she tried to lock onto the image, it disappeared. The more she tried, the more her headache came back. She was about to give up until she just decided to relax and actually let the girl show her what she wanted to show her. Still, staring at a bright white screen wasn't exactly the most exciting entertainment around.
About to fall asleep, she felt herself retreating backward without so much as taking a step. The large figure forming on the screen appeared to be facing her the same size he would have been if he was standing in front of her.
"It's all about perspective, kiddo." The dots and blanks in black and white forming what looked like a mouth moved slightly to reveal a subtle smile.
"I can't believe you still call me that, considering you're only a few minutes older than me." Amber sleepily murmured.
The box seemed to open around her, fully exposing her to the vast screen. The Phoenix Theater seemed much larger than she had remembered it. All the same, Max seemed so close that all she had to do was reach out to him and pull him from the screen. It was like a 3-D movie but not really like some cheesy gimmick.
"You know I said I'd always protect you." The large grey hand seemed to touch Amber's hair, placing a messy strand behind her ear.
"I know, Max. That's why I've been looking for you." Amber watched him blur slightly, but was afraid that if she blinked away the tears, he would disappear again. "I just can't do without you."
"Sure sounds like it. I'm gone for three years and all you can say to me is some recycled lines from a movie you fell asleep while watching in your apartment." Max laughed, a sound barely audible over the increasingly louder reel.
Amber raised her head, a bit more alert now. "How would you have known about that? Have you been with me this whole time? How come I couldn't see you?"
"You weren't meant to, just like you really weren't meant to now--" Lines fell across Max's face like old scratched film.
The sound cut out slightly. Amber knew something was definitely wrong. If he was really a ghost, there was no way she should have been able to hear him. "Max!"
"Don't ...ry a... me. Please...to live." Amber spun around to see the projector smoking and the reels spinning out of control, film tangling in the gears.
She blinked as she turned around, allowing herself to see more clearly now the face of her beloved dead brother. A hole spread from the center of the screen, spreading black and burned all the way around. Almost as soon as the image had appeared to Amber, it had burned away. Soon enough, she was behind the wall and its tiny window in the projection booth. The little girl looked up at her with her eyes wide with tears as well.
Amber fell to the floor, wracked with sobs. What the hell was the point of all that? There was no closure, no sense that her brother really was in a better place or if he was even here at all. Then again, it would make sense for him to appear to her like that. Max always did have a more cinematic imagination than she did.
Seated curled on the floor, she felt the little girl pushing on her shoulder as if telling her to lie down. Amber pushed her away. The projector continued spinning at its frenetic pace, the film all but melted and shredded away to ribbons on the reels. She never was good with machines. The reels seemed to spin faster and fast, whirring all the way to a high-pitched screech. Amber's headache had returned as unwelcome as her Aunt Alice at Thanksgiving dinner. At least things weren't spinning again.
If there was anything she had learned from her whole experience in this world, whichever one it was, was that it was always better to look on the somewhat dim side. That way you're never disappointed.
Max had told her that.
Maybe the little girl was right. The floor wasn't really that uncomfortable. All Amber needed was a few minutes of sleep. Then she could just go downstairs back to David and call it a day.
Just a few minutes of sleep.
The back stairwell leading from the "employees only" door to the projection room seemed much dustier than Amber had expected. When she had made the mistake of taking hold of the guardrail, her hand came away with a candy floss-like mass of cobwebs attached to it. Granted, the last time she had been up the metal spiral staircase was about three years ago when Max had his accident. Still, nothing could explain the extensive decay of the cramped space in comparison to the rest of the theater, the decay of which had barely been noticable in comparison. The iron had become so rusted that Amber was somewhat justified in her fear of climbing it as opposed to her usual inexplicable fear of narrow spiral staircases. It groaned and creaked like Marley's ghost and chains in "A Christmas Carol."
Amber wondered why the girl had gone in here as opposed to the patron stairwell on the other side of the theater leading to the balcony. She looked up knowing that she wouldn't see the girl, not so much because she would disappear as these figments usually do, but because the stairwell was so narrow that looking up only caused the person climbing it to see the bottom of the stairs above. Amber closed her eyes, the headache still had control. Nonetheless, she wished she could hear like her brother could, just so she could hear the little girl's footsteps with the hard rubber soles softly clanging up the staircase. Even with her eyes closed, all Amber could see was the stairway continuing, spinning its way up...up..up.
Her stomach lurched upward and fell back down again like on the gravity spin ride at the county fair when she was seven. For the second time in her life, she thought she understood what it felt like to be a pair of jeans in the spin cycle of the washing machine. She could taste something bitter and burning at the back of her throat. The thick cobwebs veiled her as she leaned against the railing, struggling to stay standing. She squeezed her eyes closed even tighter as if it would make it all just stop. All she wanted was for it to all stop. As she fell backward, Amber could finally feel the world slowing down.
Amber opened her eyes to find her headache has evaporated into the dusty air like some sort of bad dream. Yet she is still in the theater stairwell, rather than waking up in her bed in the hotel room or in her cheap apartment miles from here. To her surprise, she had not tumbled all the way down, but only woke up with her head a few steps below where her feet had caught on the lower ridge of one of the steps. Now as opposed to her head aching like hell, it felt like someone had caught her right ankle in one of those bear traps hunters used to use more than a century or so ago.
As her vision adjusted to objects further away from her own body, Amber could see the girl, stepping down the stairs with her sailor dress as white as ever. This time she was smiling like she could actually see Amber. This couldn't have been possible. They weren't supposed to be able to interact with the living. Yet there she was, smiling warmly and reaching out her little hand to Amber as if offering to help her up.
Not sure how to react, Amber extended her hand hesitantly. To her complete amazement, the girl who was half her size was able to help her completely to her feet. Imagine that, Amber's ankle wasn't as bad as she had thought. Nonetheless, she hobbled her way up the stairs, following her rather impatient, yet adorable curly-locked companion. The little girl held Amber's left hand, occasionally tugging it in an attempt to make her go faster. Amber's right hand pressed against the railing as she leaned against it for support, which was probably a laugh considering how rusted it was. She was surprised that it didn't snap, causing splintered shards of rusted iron to embed into her skin. What was a little tetanus and ankle-spraining compared to finding some sort of universal truth about the human existence anyway?
Once they got to the projection booth, the door was open. The booth was in surprisingly good shape and not as cobwebbed and dusty as the stairwell leading to it. The paint on the walls was more or less intact. For some reason, the metal cabinets were open and full of reels. One folding chair stood in front of the small window in the wall facing the screen. Amber could see that the machine was on, but the reel needed to be changed since the old one flopped around and around as the light beamed nothing but a white blank on the screen. Amber tried to peer below to see where David had gone, but couldn't see anything but the darkness surrounding the white light.
Amber felt a tugging on her jacket from behind her. The little girl held up a reel. For a moment, Amber couldn't help but think, "What the hell does she expect me to do with this? I don't know how to operate one of these gizmos considering they've been obsolete for years." Nonetheless, it seemed somewhat straightforward, just replace the reel, thread it through and clip it onto the empty reel. As to why it seemed to second-nature to her now, she figured it would be best not to question it.
Knowing that trying to talk to the little girl in the sailor dress would be useless, Amber gave her a look as if to ask "Now what?" To which the girl raised an eyebrow and pointed out the projection booth window, her little arm almost parallel with the stream of light projecting out to the screen.
Leaning on her elbows while sitting in the chair, Amber stared at the screen. It was nothing but the same white blankness she had seen before. Turning around again, she saw the girl impatiently pointing outward again as if to tell her to keep looking and that she was dumb for looking away for even a moment. Amber sighed and rolled her eyes, listening to the rattling spin of the projection reel and staring at the bright blank screen. Her eyes started to hurt again, but every now and again, she got random flashes of solid images. As soon as she tried to lock onto the image, it disappeared. The more she tried, the more her headache came back. She was about to give up until she just decided to relax and actually let the girl show her what she wanted to show her. Still, staring at a bright white screen wasn't exactly the most exciting entertainment around.
About to fall asleep, she felt herself retreating backward without so much as taking a step. The large figure forming on the screen appeared to be facing her the same size he would have been if he was standing in front of her.
"It's all about perspective, kiddo." The dots and blanks in black and white forming what looked like a mouth moved slightly to reveal a subtle smile.
"I can't believe you still call me that, considering you're only a few minutes older than me." Amber sleepily murmured.
The box seemed to open around her, fully exposing her to the vast screen. The Phoenix Theater seemed much larger than she had remembered it. All the same, Max seemed so close that all she had to do was reach out to him and pull him from the screen. It was like a 3-D movie but not really like some cheesy gimmick.
"You know I said I'd always protect you." The large grey hand seemed to touch Amber's hair, placing a messy strand behind her ear.
"I know, Max. That's why I've been looking for you." Amber watched him blur slightly, but was afraid that if she blinked away the tears, he would disappear again. "I just can't do without you."
"Sure sounds like it. I'm gone for three years and all you can say to me is some recycled lines from a movie you fell asleep while watching in your apartment." Max laughed, a sound barely audible over the increasingly louder reel.
Amber raised her head, a bit more alert now. "How would you have known about that? Have you been with me this whole time? How come I couldn't see you?"
"You weren't meant to, just like you really weren't meant to now--" Lines fell across Max's face like old scratched film.
The sound cut out slightly. Amber knew something was definitely wrong. If he was really a ghost, there was no way she should have been able to hear him. "Max!"
"Don't ...ry a... me. Please...to live." Amber spun around to see the projector smoking and the reels spinning out of control, film tangling in the gears.
She blinked as she turned around, allowing herself to see more clearly now the face of her beloved dead brother. A hole spread from the center of the screen, spreading black and burned all the way around. Almost as soon as the image had appeared to Amber, it had burned away. Soon enough, she was behind the wall and its tiny window in the projection booth. The little girl looked up at her with her eyes wide with tears as well.
Amber fell to the floor, wracked with sobs. What the hell was the point of all that? There was no closure, no sense that her brother really was in a better place or if he was even here at all. Then again, it would make sense for him to appear to her like that. Max always did have a more cinematic imagination than she did.
Seated curled on the floor, she felt the little girl pushing on her shoulder as if telling her to lie down. Amber pushed her away. The projector continued spinning at its frenetic pace, the film all but melted and shredded away to ribbons on the reels. She never was good with machines. The reels seemed to spin faster and fast, whirring all the way to a high-pitched screech. Amber's headache had returned as unwelcome as her Aunt Alice at Thanksgiving dinner. At least things weren't spinning again.
If there was anything she had learned from her whole experience in this world, whichever one it was, was that it was always better to look on the somewhat dim side. That way you're never disappointed.
Max had told her that.
Maybe the little girl was right. The floor wasn't really that uncomfortable. All Amber needed was a few minutes of sleep. Then she could just go downstairs back to David and call it a day.
Just a few minutes of sleep.
posted by janevalenz @ 9:44 PM
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