Brett McBean - Tales of Sin and Madness

“For the last two nights there’s been this strange flickering of light. It’s as if someone is holding a magnifying glass up to the moon and shining it into my apartment. Only it flickers. On and off. For about ten minutes and then just goes away.”

Clayton waited for the laugher, for the snide comments.

“Dude, you really need to get some sleep,” Geoff chuckled.

“But what could it be? I don’t know where it’s coming from or what’s causing it. It seems to go away once Rose goes to sleep.”

There was a long intake of breath from Geoff. “Well, what do you think it is? A U.F.O.?”

“No, of course not. I dunno.”

Clayton did have his ideas, but they were all ludicrous, and he knew the kind of response he would get from Geoff if he told them to his friend.

“It’s probably nothing.”

“Right. Nothing,” Geoff said. “Listen, get yourself some rest. Go to the interview, knock’em dead, get the job, and then you can move out of Greenwich Village and into my building. There’s a free apartment just waiting for you buddy. Just imagine the parties we could have. Look, why don’t you go up to Rose and keep her company until Hal comes home…?”

If only you knew how many times I’ve thought about that .

“…At least she won’t keep you up with her pacing. You’ll be too tired from all the…”

“Yeah yeah,” Clayton said. “Thanks for the advice.”

Geoff laughed. “Okay Clay. I’d better be off. Catch me after the interview, okay?”

“Sure.”

“Good luck, huh?”

“Thanks.”

Clayton hung up the phone.

Went back to his dinner of beer and pizza.

It was a little after nine-thirty.

Clayton sat on the edge of the bed, waiting. His eyes were heavy and he knew he should be sleeping, but he wanted to see if the light came back again tonight.

He had racked his brain trying to work out what could be the cause of the light, and even though he was sure there was some simple explanation for it, he couldn’t help but wonder if it was something more intriguing, like somebody being kept prisoner was trying to communicate with him by the only way they could — by somehow flicking a light into his apartment.

He knew that was highly unlikely, merely a product of watching too many movies, but the light had to come from somewhere. There had to be a reason for it.

Thump thump thump thump… Thump thump thump thump…

“And the time at the sound of the footsteps is twelve-fifty,” Clayton said and smiled.

He listened to Rose pace up and down, pausing to turn around when she reached each end of her apartment.

He’s called every night for the past two weeks. He’ll call again tonight.

Of course, if he had the guts…

Light glinted into the apartment. He sat up straight and watched, and soon realized he was holding his breath. He let it out gently as the light shimmered again.

His mysterious light was back — and just like the other times, it was the same pattern.

He stood, and as he wandered over to the window, his thoughts about it being a cry for help seemed more logical. It looked like some kind of signal.

It was a bright moon again and a warm night. He could feel a gentle breeze seeping in. He looked down at the alley. He noticed movement down there among the shadows. His heart began to race. What if he was right and down in the alley was his prisoner trying to reach him?

The distant sound of trashcans being hit made its way up into Clayton’s apartment.

As he leaned forward in the hope of a better view, his eyes caught a glimmer of light.

It vanished soon after, but in that moment, he was certain that the light was coming from somewhere directly ahead, not down in the alley.

Probably just some cats , he thought as the noise below continued.

He turned his attention from the alley to the warehouse opposite.

His window, like all the apartments on this side of the building, faced an old warehouse that had been closed for years. The FOR RENT sign had long since been defaced by graffiti and its dark, empty rooms were now home to the odd vagrant and junkie. It was big and dirty and empty and ugly. Not the nicest view to have, but considering the type of tenement he was living in, it was appropriate.

The light did seem to be stemming from that direction, but Clayton couldn’t make out exactly where it was coming from. The way the light flickered on and off, it could’ve been coming from anywhere.

But what’s causing it?

Clayton stared so long and hard into the dark windows of the warehouse that his eyes began playing tricks. He thought he saw the dark shape of a person — a person sitting in one of the rooms.

Clayton blinked and shook his head.

Christ, I’m seeing things.

He looked back into the room where he thought he had seen the dark figure, but saw only blackness.

He smiled.

Amazing what the mind can conjure up when looking into darkness .

The light glinted once more, then vanished.

From upstairs he heard the muffled voice of Rose.

Made it safely through another night, it seems .

With a sigh, Clayton turned away from the window. He wandered over to his bed and hopped in.

Questions floated around in his mind, questions he was still trying to answer when he drifted off to sleep twenty minutes later.

It had been a long, boring day. Clayton had gone to the store and bought some chocolate, coffee, bread, cigarettes and more beer. He was running low on cash, so he could only afford the essentials. The only interesting thing that happened was seeing Rose. She had been outside, leaning against the building, smoking. Hal hadn’t been around, Clayton assumed he was upstairs sleeping, and she had smiled at him as he walked up the steps leading to the front entrance, carrying his groceries. He had wanted to say something witty, but only smiled and nodded, then went on his merry way.

I’m an idiot , he thought as he sat waiting in the darkness of his apartment, a can of Coors Light clutched in his sweaty hand. I had an opportunity to talk to her, and what did I do? Smiled like a moron and kept on going.

It was some consolation that Rose had smiled at him. But he figured she was that sort of person — kind and gregarious and smiling at everyone as they went past.

He liked to think she had smiled at him because she fancied him. Liked to think it was some signal for him to come on up when her husband was out tonight.

Which is what I should be doing right now instead of sitting here waiting for the light.

Clayton jumped when the footsteps started. He let out a nervous chuckle.

Thump thump thump thump… Thump thump thump thump…

He wasn’t sure why he was so keyed up tonight. He had been on edge ever since seeing Rose this afternoon.

He took a drink and watched the window.

S he is hot, though.

He pictured the way she looked today — tight white tube top and short cut-off jeans.

Thank the Lord for summer , he thought, and continued waiting.

When the light didn’t appear, even after a few minutes of listening to Rose upstairs, Clayton sighed with disappointment.

Where is it?

He turned and glanced at the clock. He saw his answer. It was only twelve-thirty. Based on the last three nights, the light wouldn’t start until twelve-fifty.

Still twenty minutes to go.

It was Rose that was early.

Poor woman , Clayton thought. She’s getting more and more nervous as the nights wear on.

He wondered what kind of state she was going to be in after a month of waiting and pacing.