DEEP DOWN IN THE DARK

A short story by Sabine Clement

(sabine.clement@vrt.be)

Deep down in the darkness, myriads of little lights are twinkling in the night. From up here, the busy buzz from the metropolis is but a faraway zooming. From down here, the universe seems oddly close.

The evening is going miraculously well. The concert had been a blast, dinner was impeccable, and their laughter and joy had risen up to the ceiling like dancing balloons.

And now they've driven over to Panorama Point. Not that original, perhaps, but none the less romantic. Gradually, conversation had fallen silent, and now they are just absorbing the sounds of the night. Absorbing each other's presence. Mulling over the big question.... Where will tonight end?

Suddenly, Maxwell can't bear the silence any longer. The weight of the universe is pushing on his shoulders, pulling him down. Under a star lit sky, he slowly bends over to the woman by his side. Whispers her name, questioning.

"Fran... ?"

She looks up.

He bends deeper, and kisses her lips, ever so lightly. She folds her arms around his neck, and returns the kiss.

At first, she doesn't hear the high-pitched whine, her senses being pre-occupied by other stimuli. But as the volume grows, and the noise creeps through her ears towards her brain, she suddenly bolts up, pushing Maxwell aside.

"What is - what is THAT!!" her scream ends in terror.

A bright flashlight suddenly lights her face. She blinks, puts her arms in front of her face, protectively.

"It's nothing, Fran, it's okay!"

"Okay? There's a giant UFO landing on the next parking spot, and you say it's okay? Tell me something different, Mister," she yells, terrified.

Maxwell grabs her by the arms and pulls her close to his chest.

"No, really, it's alright. Trust me...," he tries to reassure her, but his voice fails him.

She's terrified, clutching him, looking for confidence, comfort, strength. And if he wouldn't be so utterly and completely at a loss himself, he'd be more than happy to give her at least that much.

Whatever it is that is coming down on them, it sure is approaching fast.

"Let's get out of here!" The thought races through his mind. He tries to turn the car key. A long, unworldly whine outside, immediately followed by a high-pitched, hysterical whine inside. Fran ducking for cover under the glove compartment. The key doesn't budge. "Come on, come on!" A grim expression on his face, sweat pearls on his forehead. Fran whispering OhmyGodohmyGodohmyGod, rocking back and forth. He forgets about the key, holds her, shakes her, tries to get some sense back into her.

"Fran, there's no such things as UFO's!" he shouts.

"Go try convince someone else!" she yells back.

Next to them, a gigantic structure comes down with a hiss. Smoke clouds arise from all around. A last whine. He's not sure where that one originates from. Then, silence.

One second.

	Two seconds.

		  Three.

			 Nothing....

Nothing moves, nothing happens.

Leaves rustle in the wind, oblivious.

Then! A crack appears in the dark structure.

						It grows larger 

		 It reveals a bright lit passage way 
	   The light					Shadows....
   Light revealing shadows
				Shadows revealing light

		 Shadowy outlines become visible
A ramp gets extended
	  They're moving		  And they're moving closer....

		Moving closer...
						They're closing...
	Closing...	   Moving....

				     A flash...
The darkness...			Darkness torn apart

			Noooooooooooooooo....!!!!

The two people in the car are not moving at all. They're not even breathing. They're just staring outside, eyes open wide. An expression of pure terror is etched in their stoney faces.

A knock on the window. Two heads jerk aside. Fran screams anew. Outside their car, a humanoid silhouette is visible between the smokey whisps. Completely covered in a metallic shining suit. Indicating Maxwell should lower the window. As in trance, he obeys.

"What are you doing here, Sir? Didn't you see the road block?" a metallic voice speaks.

Before Maxwell can utter something eligible, another voice is heard. A voice, vaguely familiar. And it says:

"Sheffield? You here?"

Maxwell and Fran turn their heads towards the direction of this new voice. A human-shaped figure steps closer in the darkness. That face...

"Doing a bit of spying, my friend?" the voice speaks in good humour.

Laughter errupts from all around.

"Well, now that you're here, I can as well ask you," the voice goes one. "What do you think of my latest production - quite impressive, no?"

Andrew.

Lloyd.

Webber.

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