Tara lay lifeless in her bed. The overcast evening sky taunted her, for it was nearly time to go to work. The night shifts at the diner had weighed down on her, but she had little choice. She was saving as much as she could in little Stromwood in hopes of moving to Los Angeles. Only there could she land a part big enough to get her name out there. The director from her most recent audition hadn’t even bothered to call her with a final decision.
Her ears tickled from the static of the radio perched on the nightstand. The familiar sound provided some solace from her restlessness. A haunting orchestral tune faded in.
“The ‘Whispers in the Dark’ radio show presents ‘Nancy’s Nightwatch’ by S. Saenz…”
Oddly, Tara found peace in listening to similar broadcasts before work. She knew what it was like to get caught up in a story. Her family would never condone listening to such morbid material, but none of them lived nearby. Anyway, she liked to critique the performances of the voice actors. Her family had ridiculed her ambitions since she was a child. She was alone. At least, until she made a name for herself. Maybe then they would take her back.
“A story isn’t always what it seems. It might be more than the sum of its parts. Many stories save the best part for last, but it means nothing on its own.”
Tara looked at the clock beside the radio. No more time to sleep. Her stomach growled. She always organized her schedule to squeeze in a meal before heading to work. Better not to give up the natural processes. She threw off her bed sheets and turned on the lights. She cranked up the volume of the radio...
“ 'Don’t get in too deep,' " Nancy’s father would tell her.
“Our story begins at an airplane factory, where young Nancy Evans toils away on the assembly line, contributing to the war effort like so many others. It was a job that required a level of mental fortitude even she didn’t believe she had.”
The apartment kitchen was conveniently located just a few feet away. This was all she could afford on a waitress’s salary. Several times she had been passed up for a raise, but she knew better than to complain. Tara grabbed a tomato and washed it.
“The sounds of the old factory drove her mad. The foreboding corridors and frequent gusts of wind did nothing to ease her restlessness.
“ ‘Nancy, I need you to stay after and finish up this batch. We’re behind schedule, and I need someone reliable to get it done,’ said Nancy’s supervisor.
“Nancy sighed. ‘Yes, Mr. Thompson. I’ll stay and finish it.’ ”
"As always, her crewmates tormented her with legends of the factory’s ghastly apparition: Jack Worthington. Supposedly, he’d gone insane and died right there in the factory. Sometimes she imagined him speaking to her when her work extended into the night."
Tara rolled her eyes at the lifelessness in the supervisor’s performance. With that kind of acting, she felt better about her chances. Tara sliced at the tomato, observing with pleasure as the thin strips piled up beside the knife. As she turned her head toward the radio, she cut herself with the blade. A small pool of blood trickled onto the counter.
“Absent-minded, Nancy scraped her arm on a stray metal wire. She watched as a spot of blood fell to the floor, providing some much-needed color to the muted palette.”
Tara stepped back, regarding the spill. A brief gust of wind blew in from her window. She shrugged it off as she wrapped her wound in a bandage.
“From the other aisle, she thought she heard a sound. One of the many noises that frequently plagued her mind.”
A soft metallic rustle rang out. Tara slowly went over to the radio and lowered the volume. She didn’t have to investigate to know it was by the hallway vent outside her apartment. Her heart beat faster. She waited, hoping to calm herself before she had to leave. After more silence, she turned the radio back up and turned her attention back to the counter.
But there it was again--the same metallic sound, like something scraping against the grating. Everyone else on her floor would be asleep by now. She grabbed the knife and made her way toward the hallway. She left her door open, forgetting to turn the radio off.
“Nancy didn’t want to investigate, but she knew it was her job. The tiles squeaked as she made her way to where she heard the sound. No, it wasn’t the aisle, but the vent. She stood under a large compartment, trying to see what could be lodged in there.
“ ‘Jack, is that you?’ ”
Tara reached the vent, hearing nothing. It was much too small for a person to be in there. A peaceful silence hung in the air. There was barely enough light in the hallway to glimpse what was behind the cracks. Somehow, she distinguished the outline of a face inside…
“Jack crouched inside the vent, peering down at Nancy. She could hardly believe he was there, that it was her turn to see him. She wondered if he was truly dead…”
Tara leaned toward the vent, careful not to get too close. Surely it must be the stress getting to her. She couldn’t be seeing things…
“No, Jack was not yet done living.”
Tara jumped back as a figure insider her vent shifted. She scrambled back toward her open door. The light from her apartment suddenly flickered and died, bathing the hallway in complete darkness. Tara yelped. She swung around at the sound of the vent grate popping out of place.
“ ‘Nowhere to run Nancy. Stay here with me.’ ”
Tara felt her way back inside her apartment in a frenzy. The radio! Bursts of static shot out of the contraption, disorienting her. The sound reverberated through her mind, making it impossible to tell where the device was. She frisked the wall and found the closet door, but refrained from entering.
“ ‘Don’t leave. Please, Nancy. Everyone else left.’ ”
Tara continued running her hands along the wall until she found the window. She desperately tried to unfasten it, but it wouldn’t budge. She waved the knife around until she saw the outline of the radio in front of her.
“Jack edged away from the vent. He was coming to find Nancy. Coming to make sure they could be together. To let her know he needed her. To tell her there would be consequences for running awa--”
Tara cranked down the volume of the radio before throwing herself into the closet and shutting the door. She aimed the knife at the dark abyss facing her. She waited until her fear began to subside.
Before she could move, static erupted from the radio. The volume whirled as it sprung to life again.
“Jack was right outside the door.”
The closet door slowly creaked open. Tara froze, but kept the knife outstretched. Her field of vision was empty save for a dark frame staring back at her.
“He stood there. Motionless.”
The figure rustled and stepped closer. She could hear a heavy breath just a few feet in front of her. The assailant was close enough to get a clearer image. A dark figure almost like a mannequin, faceless. Somehow graceful in its movements. It continued walking toward her.
“Now, Nancy’s tale reaches its conclusion. Her time nears.”
The creature leaned in, nearly coming face-to-face with Tara. Before it could come any closer, Tara bolted around it and out of the closet. She kicked over the nightstand and the radio with it. The device made impact with the floor in a violent crash, releasing a metallic wail.
Tara awoke in her bed, hastily jumping out of her sheets as soon as she was lucid. Her lights were finally on, but the clouds outside still made it difficult to see. There were no signs of the apparition.
The radio sputtered.
“The ‘Whispers in the Dark’ radio show presents ‘Nancy’s Nightwatch' by S. Saenz. A story isn’t always what it seems. It might be more than the sum of its parts. Many stories save the best part for last, but it means nothing on its own.”
Tara backed away from the radio. She looked at the clock. It felt like an eternity since the story began, but it had only been a few minutes. She could still get to work on time.
“Would you like to know the last part, Nancy?”
The radio buzzed and whirred as if answering for her.
Tara didn’t want to know the end of the story. It wasn’t hers anyway. She grabbed her bag and rushed out the door, locking it behind her. She strutted with a cautious bewilderment, anxious to prove herself at work and finish the night on a high note. She made her way through the hallway and started down the stairs.
“As Nancy lowered her guard, Jack made his final approach…”
Tara’s heart sank. She spun around. There was no one around.
“Her mind filled with the sorrow of such an unforeseen ending. A lifetime wasted in obscurity.
“ ‘Don’t worry,’ said Jack. ‘We can be together.’ ”
Tara ducked behind the staircase, shaking uncontrollably. She contemplated running back to her apartment and smashing the cursed radio, but she knew it would be no use. The voice was too clear to be coming from her residence. As the static sensation tingled in her ears, she knew there was no escaping this. A dark shadow passed over her, obscuring what little light remained.
“I’ll make sure they never forget you.”
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