Disclaimer: Early Edition, its characters
and some situations are the property of CBS
Productions and Sony/Tristar.
Possible Spoiler: Phantom At The Opera
Authors note: A newbie challenge
The Apartment Down the Hall
by Candii
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The elevator dinged opened, and Gary
stepped out into the
quiet entry hall leading to his apartment
at the Blackstone
Hotel. It had rained profusely that day,
leaving him soaked,
cold and tired.
"Home," he sighed wearily,
brushing the water
from his coat. As he proceeded towards
his apartment his
attention was drawn to the door of one of
the neighboring
apartments, closing softly. Boswell, the doorman
had mentioned a new tenant had moved into
the vacant apartment down the hall.
But Gary hadn't seen any new tenant,
reasoning they
were probably still asleep when he rushed
out of his apartment
in the early morning, or they were in for
the night when he
returned, which was sometimes late at
night.
Sighing heavily, he dug deep into the pockets
of his rain-soaked jeans for his door key.
After having prevented a Violinist from being
clobbered over the
head with his own *violin during a robbery
attempt, and the assault
of a dancer across town at the
Pink *Flamingo strip club, which resulted in
him being splashed
in the face with a martini, he was sore and
reaked of alcohol. Right now, a hot shower
and a warm bed were the only thoughts he
would allow to consume his mind. Yet, the
closing door to the apartment down the hall
had piqued his curiosity.
His pace slowed as he neared his
apartment. Through the dim lighting of
the hall, he
could see it clearly, the little petals
gleaming softly on his doorstop. This was
the third time in a week he had found
a rose on his doorstop, and each time
it had been one of a different color. The first
rose was a light
pink in color and the second one had been
the color of coral and now this one....white.
He had told Chuck and Marisa about the
roses,
thinking they were the ones who had
been secretly putting them there.
Being the kind and caring friends that
they were, maybe,he
thought, just maybe it was their way of
thanking
him for the work he did with the paper.
But they had denied being responsible.
Marisa had teased him, suggesting it
was probably the cat who had brought the
roses. Chuck had even scoffed at him,
telling him he should
be flattered and he should, as Chuck so
eloquently put it, count his lucky *jellybean
he even had a secret admirer. But Gary felt
a bit uneasyreceiving anonymous gifts of any
kind, no matter how flattering it might have
seemed.
Gary was hesitant as he bent down to
pick up the rose,
pausing to wipe a trickle of water from the
back
of his neck. Suspiciously he examined
the delicate looking flower, rolling the stem
gently between his thumb and indexfinger,
its soft fragrance filling the air around him.
It was odd enough, he thought, to
receive a paper and a cat everyday from
some unknown source, but now, roses?
The stillness of the hall was suddenly disturbed
by the distant sound of music. Gary listened
intently. Although faint, he could tell the music
was coming from the apartment down the hall.
It was a familiar song, one which he
felt he had heard once before. A chill swept across
the back of his neck and he rose quickly fumbling
for his door key. He opened the door and
let himself in locking the door behind him.
~~~~~~~~~ * ~~~~~~~~~~~~
"I-I found another one, Marisa." Gary complained
into the phone. He had called Marisa after he had
showered, and was now stretched out on his bed
clad in a pair of warm sweats and soft cotton socks.
The rose he had placed on his nightstand. He
hadn't bothered to put it in water now, it's once
supple-white petals were beginning to wither and
turn brown.
"Well, maybe it is a secret admirer, Gary."
Marisa yawned, her voice sounding soft and sleepy.
"Obviously she's afraid to come forward"
"Secret admirer?!" Gary scoffed, "What secret adm...I-I
don't know any secret admirer!"
"That's why they're called secret admirers
Gary." Marisa informed him.
Sliding a hand through his hair, Gary blew out
a tired breath. "Oh-th-thats right."
It was late, he was cranky and Gary knew
he really shouldn't have bothered Marisa at such
a late hour, but he couldn't get the rose off
his mind. He couldn't help but feel someone was
watching him. Someone or....some "Thing".
"Maybe, I'm making a big deal out of nothing."
He said rubbing his face, trying to dismiss
his last thought.
"Yeah..maybe." Marisa agreed, yawning again.
Gary was silent as he thought about the apartment
down the hall, the closing door, the new tenant whom
he had never seen, and now the music he heard
coming from that apartment.
"Marisa? Y-You remember Emma...don't you?"
he asked after a short pause.
"Course I do...why?"
"Well...you remember the play at the opera, the
one I took Emma to see?"
Marisa knew how hard it was for Gary to
talk about that night at the opera and the
decision he chose to make. He had never
discussed it with her and she had never
prompted him, feeling in due time, he would.
"Turandot wasn't it?" she asked trying to
continue the conversation.
"Yeah, well th-that song," Gary said. "Nissune.
doorknob....er..or something....a-anyway, someone
was playing that same song tonight! And it was
coming from that apartment!"
"Well, yeah, I remember you telling me
about it. " Marisa said. "The song was
called...Nessun Dorma... song by
Placido Domingo. Ohh-!" she gushed. "Such
a beautiful piece! So-you think that maybe Em--"
"Forget it." Gary said quickly dismissing
the subject. He rubbed his eyes, thinking
how silly it was he would even think Emma
would be here, in Chicago, and right here
in the Black Stone. He must
have been more tired than he thought and
now felt foolish for bringing up the subject.
"It was a silly thought." he muttered,
his dark lashes fluttering sleepily.
"Well...anything's possible Gary." Marisa sighed,
at a loss for an answer.
For a moment, there was silence, neither saying
a word as Marisa waited patiently for her friend
to either reply to her comment, or to bid her goodnight.
A few minutes later, she received the latter,
and it came in the form of a deep, rhythmic,
reverberating sound.
"Gary?"
Silence.
"Gary," she called again.
Receiving no response, Marisa soon realized
her late night caller had fallen asleep.
"Humph!" she huffed. Now wide awake, she
drummed her fingers irritably on her blanket. She
was definitely going to tell him off in the morning!
Smiling, she hung up the receiver.
......................................................
Outside of the hotel, dark storm clouds
gathered, bursting over already rain-drenched
Chicago. Inside, on floor beside Gary's
bed, lay the paper. The headline that had
been, faded slowly and another appeared
just as subtle in it's place.
Widow Emma Shaw-Sanchez Well Known Art
Conservationist Leaves Chicago Today
..................................................
In the hallway, outside of Gary's door, a woman
stood. Small in stature and warmly dressed,
the hood of her long dark raincoat covered
most of her head. Beneath the hood, red
bangs framed an attractive yet saddened face.
In one hand she clutched a small suitcase and
*umbrella; in the other, a long stemmed red
rose. She looked upset, as she studied the
door, her small gloved fist poised to knock.
Her eyes fell to the rose she held in the
other hand. Lowering her fist, she bent down
and carefully placed the rose on the floor in front
of the door. Straightening, she adjusted the
hood of her coat, then walked briskly towards
the elevator. In the dim lighting of the hallway,
the woman's cheeks glistened as she waited
impatiently for the elevator to arrive, her gloved
hand nervously massaging the handle of the
suitcase that she clutched. The elevator door
opened. She quickly stepped inside. With
quivering lips, she turned to look back as the
elevator door closed slowly in front of her.
The End
and some situations are the property of CBS
Productions and Sony/Tristar.
Possible Spoiler: Phantom At The Opera
Authors note: A newbie challenge
The Apartment Down the Hall
by Candii
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The elevator dinged opened, and Gary
stepped out into the
quiet entry hall leading to his apartment
at the Blackstone
Hotel. It had rained profusely that day,
leaving him soaked,
cold and tired.
"Home," he sighed wearily,
brushing the water
from his coat. As he proceeded towards
his apartment his
attention was drawn to the door of one of
the neighboring
apartments, closing softly. Boswell, the doorman
had mentioned a new tenant had moved into
the vacant apartment down the hall.
But Gary hadn't seen any new tenant,
reasoning they
were probably still asleep when he rushed
out of his apartment
in the early morning, or they were in for
the night when he
returned, which was sometimes late at
night.
Sighing heavily, he dug deep into the pockets
of his rain-soaked jeans for his door key.
After having prevented a Violinist from being
clobbered over the
head with his own *violin during a robbery
attempt, and the assault
of a dancer across town at the
Pink *Flamingo strip club, which resulted in
him being splashed
in the face with a martini, he was sore and
reaked of alcohol. Right now, a hot shower
and a warm bed were the only thoughts he
would allow to consume his mind. Yet, the
closing door to the apartment down the hall
had piqued his curiosity.
His pace slowed as he neared his
apartment. Through the dim lighting of
the hall, he
could see it clearly, the little petals
gleaming softly on his doorstop. This was
the third time in a week he had found
a rose on his doorstop, and each time
it had been one of a different color. The first
rose was a light
pink in color and the second one had been
the color of coral and now this one....white.
He had told Chuck and Marisa about the
roses,
thinking they were the ones who had
been secretly putting them there.
Being the kind and caring friends that
they were, maybe,he
thought, just maybe it was their way of
thanking
him for the work he did with the paper.
But they had denied being responsible.
Marisa had teased him, suggesting it
was probably the cat who had brought the
roses. Chuck had even scoffed at him,
telling him he should
be flattered and he should, as Chuck so
eloquently put it, count his lucky *jellybean
he even had a secret admirer. But Gary felt
a bit uneasyreceiving anonymous gifts of any
kind, no matter how flattering it might have
seemed.
Gary was hesitant as he bent down to
pick up the rose,
pausing to wipe a trickle of water from the
back
of his neck. Suspiciously he examined
the delicate looking flower, rolling the stem
gently between his thumb and indexfinger,
its soft fragrance filling the air around him.
It was odd enough, he thought, to
receive a paper and a cat everyday from
some unknown source, but now, roses?
The stillness of the hall was suddenly disturbed
by the distant sound of music. Gary listened
intently. Although faint, he could tell the music
was coming from the apartment down the hall.
It was a familiar song, one which he
felt he had heard once before. A chill swept across
the back of his neck and he rose quickly fumbling
for his door key. He opened the door and
let himself in locking the door behind him.
~~~~~~~~~ * ~~~~~~~~~~~~
"I-I found another one, Marisa." Gary complained
into the phone. He had called Marisa after he had
showered, and was now stretched out on his bed
clad in a pair of warm sweats and soft cotton socks.
The rose he had placed on his nightstand. He
hadn't bothered to put it in water now, it's once
supple-white petals were beginning to wither and
turn brown.
"Well, maybe it is a secret admirer, Gary."
Marisa yawned, her voice sounding soft and sleepy.
"Obviously she's afraid to come forward"
"Secret admirer?!" Gary scoffed, "What secret adm...I-I
don't know any secret admirer!"
"That's why they're called secret admirers
Gary." Marisa informed him.
Sliding a hand through his hair, Gary blew out
a tired breath. "Oh-th-thats right."
It was late, he was cranky and Gary knew
he really shouldn't have bothered Marisa at such
a late hour, but he couldn't get the rose off
his mind. He couldn't help but feel someone was
watching him. Someone or....some "Thing".
"Maybe, I'm making a big deal out of nothing."
He said rubbing his face, trying to dismiss
his last thought.
"Yeah..maybe." Marisa agreed, yawning again.
Gary was silent as he thought about the apartment
down the hall, the closing door, the new tenant whom
he had never seen, and now the music he heard
coming from that apartment.
"Marisa? Y-You remember Emma...don't you?"
he asked after a short pause.
"Course I do...why?"
"Well...you remember the play at the opera, the
one I took Emma to see?"
Marisa knew how hard it was for Gary to
talk about that night at the opera and the
decision he chose to make. He had never
discussed it with her and she had never
prompted him, feeling in due time, he would.
"Turandot wasn't it?" she asked trying to
continue the conversation.
"Yeah, well th-that song," Gary said. "Nissune.
doorknob....er..or something....a-anyway, someone
was playing that same song tonight! And it was
coming from that apartment!"
"Well, yeah, I remember you telling me
about it. " Marisa said. "The song was
called...Nessun Dorma... song by
Placido Domingo. Ohh-!" she gushed. "Such
a beautiful piece! So-you think that maybe Em--"
"Forget it." Gary said quickly dismissing
the subject. He rubbed his eyes, thinking
how silly it was he would even think Emma
would be here, in Chicago, and right here
in the Black Stone. He must
have been more tired than he thought and
now felt foolish for bringing up the subject.
"It was a silly thought." he muttered,
his dark lashes fluttering sleepily.
"Well...anything's possible Gary." Marisa sighed,
at a loss for an answer.
For a moment, there was silence, neither saying
a word as Marisa waited patiently for her friend
to either reply to her comment, or to bid her goodnight.
A few minutes later, she received the latter,
and it came in the form of a deep, rhythmic,
reverberating sound.
"Gary?"
Silence.
"Gary," she called again.
Receiving no response, Marisa soon realized
her late night caller had fallen asleep.
"Humph!" she huffed. Now wide awake, she
drummed her fingers irritably on her blanket. She
was definitely going to tell him off in the morning!
Smiling, she hung up the receiver.
......................................................
Outside of the hotel, dark storm clouds
gathered, bursting over already rain-drenched
Chicago. Inside, on floor beside Gary's
bed, lay the paper. The headline that had
been, faded slowly and another appeared
just as subtle in it's place.
Widow Emma Shaw-Sanchez Well Known Art
Conservationist Leaves Chicago Today
..................................................
In the hallway, outside of Gary's door, a woman
stood. Small in stature and warmly dressed,
the hood of her long dark raincoat covered
most of her head. Beneath the hood, red
bangs framed an attractive yet saddened face.
In one hand she clutched a small suitcase and
*umbrella; in the other, a long stemmed red
rose. She looked upset, as she studied the
door, her small gloved fist poised to knock.
Her eyes fell to the rose she held in the
other hand. Lowering her fist, she bent down
and carefully placed the rose on the floor in front
of the door. Straightening, she adjusted the
hood of her coat, then walked briskly towards
the elevator. In the dim lighting of the hallway,
the woman's cheeks glistened as she waited
impatiently for the elevator to arrive, her gloved
hand nervously massaging the handle of the
suitcase that she clutched. The elevator door
opened. She quickly stepped inside. With
quivering lips, she turned to look back as the
elevator door closed slowly in front of her.
The End