Spoopy Writing Challenge — Day 6

Howdy, ghosts and ghouls! 

It’s getting to the end of my writing challenge, which means only two more stories left (including this one). I received a ton of really cool prompts, so please don’t be offended if I didn’t use yours! My process is to review the list of prompts and I pick that one that strikes inspiration first! On that note, today’s prompt comes from Zach Rosenberg:

A basement with a dark secret 

So, for my sixth story of my seven day chilling challenge, I bring you…

Curiosity Paid in Full

Zach’s Bistro was bustling, full of theatre patrons and artists, the smell of rich spices and heady booze filling the air, with an undertone of smooth jazz from the speakers. The boutique restaurant’s sommelier, Rose, slipped away from the clamour. Passing the steaming kitchen, she opened the door marked STAFF ONLY, which revealed dimly lit wooden stairs that led to the basement. 

The cacophony of the restaurant died as the door shut behind her, leaving Rose in blissful quiet. She descended the stairs, the air was cool and dry, smelling of dust and old paper. It was here that the restaurant kept their cleaning supplies and sundries, it was also where they housed their wine cellar. 

Rose went straight to the furthest wooden wine rack and pulled a 1950 Pomme’s Salt Pillar Pinot Noir out, wiping away the dust with her apron. 

“Good news, honey,” she whispered. “We found you a loving home! Or, well, loving mouths.”

Cradling the bottle on one arm, like a baby, Rose made her way back to the base of the stairs. One foot on the bottom stair, she paused. To her left was the lightswitch panel for the basement. Yellowed with age, one plastic corner cracked off, it contained thirteen switches. 

The one Rose used was marked with peeling painter’s tape and controlled the overhead lights. The others were unknown to her, all had been taped to the ON position with heavy duct tape, a handwritten sign said “DO NOT TOUCH” by them.

But tonight, a corner of the tape had curled, exposing the thirteenth switch. Rose reached out and touched the top of the thirteenth switch with the tip of her index finger. She’d always wondered what they did, what they controlled. If it was anything like her apartment then none of them would do anything noticeable, just a relic of poor wiring work. 

So she flipped it down. 

A sound like the exhalation of a held breath and the lights went out. 

Something touched the back of her neck and Rose dropped the bottle she held, a corner of her mind calculating the deduction that would cost her pay cheque, and she flipped the switch back up. 

The lights flashed on again and she turned to find herself somewhere else. 

A long hall, pale cream walls, a nondescript taupe carpet, the far off hum of a heating system or air conditioning, dim overhead strip lighting. At her feet, the broken glass bottle, the expensive wine soaking into her black suede heels. 

“What?” Fear was an acid bomb in her belly, burning her up, sending panic through her veins. 

She turned, convinced that all she had to do was flip the thirteenth switch down and up again. 

Except the panel was gone. Instead, the whole wall from floor to ceiling, was covered in light switches. 

Rose gasped for air, her ears buzzing with her racing pulse, and she fumbled, switched another off. 

The lights went out, dousing her in darkness and complete silence. She had the sense of mind to keep her finger on the switch, so she could flip it on again. 

Lights went on. 

The wall was now a buttery yellow, there was faux wood laminate flooring beneath her feet, and the halls stretched left and right of her, as well as behind. The air was alive with whispers, far and close, though she couldn’t see anyone, and Rose was too afraid to try and find someone, to try and find help.

She flipped another switch. 

More halls – green textured walls, brown carpet, the sound of something frying and the greasy smell of cooked meat. 

Another switch. Pink wallpaper with a daisy motif, tiled floor, screaming.

Another switch. Old brick walls, grass, a maze of some kind, and distant growling. 

Dozens of switches.

Dozens of halls.

Time unmarked except by Rose’s growing fatigue, her hunger, her thirst. 

She fell asleep in a place with wood panelled walls and dusty concrete floors, a light flickering overhead. 

She licked up the drying remains of the wine she’d spilled in a place with hammered metal walls and plastic flooring, alien muttering coming through the vents.

And when her weakening body couldn’t stand any longer, Rose solely tried the switches within arm’s length, until it became too tiring even to do that. 

Flip. Red velvet walls, a glass floor, a sweet voice singing lullabies.

Flip. Black walls with chalked graffiti, a gym floor with shoe scuffs, the distant sound of children laughing.

Flip. Yellow wallpaper with a plaid design, yellow rubber floor, and the smell of lavender.

She wet her tongue on the blood that leaked from her cracked lips, her eyes blurred, her head throbbed. Her limbs weighed her down in fleshy shackles. Her heartbeat fluttered and slowed, a lonely dirge in the lonely corridors of her own flesh and bone. 

One last switch managed, one last transition from light to darkness to light. 

Hope gone. Even despair gone. Just numbness and acceptance. 

In a hall with robin’s egg blue paint, a kid’s carpet of bears and tigers, Rose eyed a shard of glass.

x PLM