Fan Fiction ❯ The Cellar and Stellan ❯ One-Shot

Media Miner Spring Oneshot Mini Fiction Contest!Submission by:

Nny Homicidal Maniac

 

The Cellar and Stellan

 

The cellar was filthy and inside it was pitch black. Visibility was nil and diminishing. As one would note, when one was to stand in a dark room for a while (be it a long or short one) shadows and outlines would eventually form. But this cellar was mysteriously gloomy and as Stellan continued his decent into the unknown, he had become more aware of the lack of visible surroundings.

“Nope,” thought Stellan to himself, “this is not strange at all. This is absolutely normal.”

Most others use expressions like the above but continually grow scared, nevertheless. If most were to believe that fact, the one that everything was alright then strange situations would not have seemed so bad.

In his hand, Stellan grasped, with white knuckles, a small candle equipped lamp. It was caged like a canary would be if the cellar was to be a mineshaft. It rattled in his hand and the noise of clinking metal annoyed him to the degree that he had decided upon switching hands [alas, to no avail].

There was not even a diameter of light. Half of his torso had shown, glowing, and in front was a lot of black. At one point, Stellan had stopped moving altogether and remained meditatively silent in order to find out (by attentively listening) whether someone or something was down there and watching him. After obvious assurance he continued descending until he had hit a flat surface.

The unsuspecting of the floor had caught Stellan off guard and had almost twisted his ankle.

[Many view the happenings as a comedic action but it really is not hilarious to those that almost twist their ankles or worse, break their legs. Cases were known to exist.]

 

Stellan stopped in his tracks and had placed the lamp on the floor before him. His right hand entered the right-front pocket of his blazer and had come out holding a watch with a short chain attached. The hands of the watch, apparently, had stopped moving twenty minutes before he had entered the cellar.

“Blasted wind ups,” Mumbled Stellan under unexpectedly visible breath. “The only thing they are good for is telling you when they stopped working.” He placed the watch back in its pocket and his other hand entered the other front pocket of the blazer. It had come out with a scrap of parchment paper. Stellan crouched down toward the light and examined the parchment that contained a map of sorts. It did not contain geographical points or graphics but simply directions in which to advance.

“The map says that I must make an immediate right after the stairs.” thought Stellan to himself. He glanced at the remainder of the map's instructions to hypothesize, approximately, when to draw his weapon, should an occasion arise for his needing to do so.

He concluded with three more turns and after picking up the map and the lamp, he turned to his right and began to walk forward again. He stretched both hands in both directions, far away from his body as far as they would go incase a doorway might appear at the tips of his fingers. He had also hoped that a wall might not appear at the tip of his nose.

After a few more steps, Stellan's right shoulder had made contact with a brick wall (very lightly, mind you) and he shifted leftwards, ever-so-slightly. He brought the lamp in front of his face once again and his other hand replaced the map with a pistol he extracted from his left-front pocket.

“Forget the extra turns,” Stellan told himself, “just be prepared for the anonymous.”

 

It might have felt like an hour and Stellan was growing impatient. His walking in a single direction for an excruciatingly long (and unknown) period of time had become tiresome and he was no long afraid of the nothing before him. He could wait no longer for another wall to materialize. But thinking too soon, Stellan had (in the blink of an eye) felt that he was walking on thin air and then felt his body weightless. Mass filled in and Stellan was falling down through some more darkness. The lamp had almost slipped from his fingers and the pistol was gripped tighter.

A few more seconds had passed and Stellan hit water.

 

The candle was put out by a few droplets of splashing water and Stellan was waist deep in black water. Then again, visibility still was nil. He placed the lamp on top of the water and felt for its floating. When it was safe he extracted a candle from the right inside pocket of his blazer and a box of matches from the left pocket. He relit the lamp, placed all valuables where they belong, and continued onward in the direction he still was facing.

 

The sound of falling/running water was very soothing, as claimed by many but walking endlessly, waist deep in it is not. Stellan figured so after five minutes. He heard water splashing lightly beside him, constantly, as if banking off walls but he was no exploring mood. After having lost his fear of those that go bump in the night, Stellan had become more curious. He had now assured himself that the trek was meaningful, provided he did not find an abyss or a portal to a dimension that contained an infinite source light.

Walking further, for about fifteen minutes, Stellan had begun to notice that he had company. He stopped in his tracks, due to a faint source of light coming from before him and waited for the light to approach him. After noting that it was stationary he crept forward, still walking through water.

“The pneumonia better be worth it.” thought Stellan to himself. “Even hyperthermia would be nice…” He walked onward and the light came closer. He stiffened his facial expressions, pulled his shoulders aback and had forgotten all about not being afraid of the dark.

 

Stellan was starring at his torso. His torso was glowing and his blazer was missing a button near the bottom of it. After careful consideration, Stellan had noted that he had come upon a mirror and had begun to mentally grasp the surroundings. Before him was a long and wide mirror that had hung off of a brick wall that stretched in all directions to infinity. He raised the lamp toward the reflection of his face in the mirror and had noticed striking differences.

In his reflection, Stellan did not wear his hair down, wavy, and long; it was short and to the back. Also, his mustache was gone. He seemed a decade younger in the reflection and seconds later gold had materialized behind him.

“How on Earth is the gold visible?” Stellan asked himself. “I can not even see what is before the lamp.” He placed the pistol in its pocket and, with empty hand he reached behind himself and touched the gold. The reflection held a golden coin in its right hand and he brought the hand toward his sight. Physically he hadn't a coin but in the mirror he was holding it. In the mirror he also was younger and had a better haircut.

Stellan had begun to ponder as to whether he had found what he was looking for. “Maybe this was it. Maybe I have to do something to obtain the gold. The map was for a purpose and I am technically staring at it. Maybe it is trying to tell me something. Maybe it is of a trade…”

Stellan stood silently for minutes on end and pondered. He thought, “In the reflection I am younger and have gold. Though I may only be of thirty and three years, I still seem younger in the reflection. Suppose I had to sacrifice my youth for riches… I would not mind being old and rich. I would also rather be lucky than good…” After having decided that his answer was clear he had begun to wonder as to how to obtain the wealth.

 

A crazy and silly thought came to Stellan. He, unnoticing, placed the imaginary coin in the left-front pocket and brought out the pistol. He aimed it carefully at the face that stared back at him and his mind was racing.

“This is utterly ridiculous… I am about to fire a pistol at my youthful self reflection…”

Stellan fired at the face in the reflection and as the mirror collected a hole, he fell like a sack of potatoes face first in the water. His legs came up and he was floating face-first. Water splashed everywhere, the lamp landed beside him and floated away. Stellan's carcass would remain there for many years.

 

Eventually another person would venture into the unknown and dark cellar and find a decayed and shriveled corpse with a hole in the center of its skull.

 

END