Electricity

Electricity

By J. Stephen Milas

(1090)



Duane found himself staring at an off-white wall with his jaw hanging open. He shook his head and re-entered the real world, blinking a few times. His eyes felt as if they’d been open for hours. He closed his mouth and swallowed, aggravating a sore throat.

“What the,” he muttered, smelling a burnt odor in the air. What am I even doing in here? He then realized he was in the guest room of his home, which also doubled as his study. The door to his left was closed, cutting off entrance from the upstairs hall. Oh, I’m working. He looked down at the desk in front of him. The laptop screen was black, but he moved the mouse next to it and the screen lit up revealing a blank desktop. He expected one of his work-in-progress articles to be open in a word processor, but no dice. The smell caught his attention again, but he was pulled away by a knock at the door.

“You wanna put Leo to bed?” his wife Lori asked from the hall.

“Uh, sure,” Duane answered, “gimme a second.”

“What’re you doing in there? It’s been quiet for the past couple hours.”

Duane quickly looked around the room trying to make sense of his recent memory lapse. His orange desk lamp was pointed up at the ceiling, the bulb socket empty.

“I’m just changing a light bu-” he began, but then noticed the socket was black and charred. He cocked his head to the side in confusion and looked around for a light bulb. A shiny new one sat at his feet. He bent over to pick it up and reached out with his left hand, but he quickly recoiled and stood up straight again, staring at his hand which was charred black as well.

“Duane, what are you doing?” Lori asked through the door.

“Changing a light bulb!” Duane answered. “Be there in a second!”

The sound of Lori’s footsteps trailed off and Duane was left wondering what exactly had transpired in his study. Why am I not dead? Duane’s hand appeared cooked, but felt normal.

He decided to finish his task of replacing the bulb, which he had evidently failed at a few hours ago, and bent down again to pick it up. Reaching down, he felt a tingle in both of his hands and once again recoiled to a standing position. He scratched his head and then realized he had just rubbed what looked like ashes into his blonde hair. He grunted and studied his hands. They looked perfectly fine, aside from the odd tingling. He bent over, picked up the light bulb with his left hand and screamed, dropping it to the carpet.

A hand tried to turn the locked doorknob from the hall. “Are you ok, daddy?” Leo, his toddler asked.

“I’ll be there to tuck you in soon, Leo,” Duane said, making an attempt to keep his tone level.

Leo’s soft footsteps faded off as he went to his room down the hall.

Duane gulped and calmed his breathing. Had he just witnessed a miracle? Did he need to say a prayer of thanks to God? He hadn’t done that in a long time. He inhaled a deep breath and knelt down next to the shiny incandescent bulb lying on the carpet. As more of Duane’s body mass neared the bulb, the filament wavered and a faint glow sharpened into something brighter. He lowered his face to the carpet, supporting himself on his elbows, and studied the device. The closer he got, the brighter it glowed. He reached out and grabbed the cap of the bulb, keeping his fingers clear of the glass. The filament flared brilliantly in his hands.

“My God,” he said. He’d had one heck of a shock for sure. It had knocked his memory out and left only black for however long he had been standing like a fool in the room. Now he was a magician, only this trick wasn’t an illusion.

“Come on, Duane!” Lori called from the hall. “It’s nine thirty!”

“Coming!” Duane answered. He dropped the bulb and stood up, watching the light dim slowly as he moved away from it. He turned and opened the door, exiting the room into a hallway that smelled sweet compared to the acrid stench of his burnt out desk lamp.

Leo’s room was the next one down and Duane noticed the door open and the light flooding out into the hall. He walked to the room and entered. Leo was lying on his bed under the covers, staring up at the glow-in-the-dark planets glued to the ceiling.

“Hi daddy,” he said. “I thought you were going to let me help you change the light.”

“Oh…yeah,” Duane pretended to remember. “Sorry.” He stepped over various toys scattered on the floor between the door and the bed on the opposite end of the room. Leo looked genuinely disappointed. Seeing his dad get electrocuted was probably not a good way for the tyke to end his day, so Duane felt relieved that he had denied his son the opportunity.

“Next time I want to help,” he said. He brought his arms out from under the covers and extended them. Duane leaned in to hug him, but Leo retracted his arms, clearly disgusted about something. “You’re hand!”

“Oh, yeah,” Duane said. “I’ll just hug you with my clean arm.” Duane slid his right arm underneath Leo’s back and hugged him. He kissed him on the forehead and pulled the covers over.

“Can you turn the fan off before you go?” Leo asked. “I’m cold.”

Duane looked up at the ceiling above the bed and saw that the mounted fan was turning slowly. “Sure thing, buddy.” Duane walked over to the door and flipped the second switch that controlled the fan. The blades began spinning faster.

“No, turn it off!” Leo urged.

“Oh no,” Duane said to himself. He flipped the switch again and the blades slowed to a stop. He was standing farther away now, so there wasn’t a reaction.

“Thanks,” Leo smiled. He leaned his head back on the pillow and closed his eyes, waiting for the light to go out.

Duane half expected the fanlight to stay on when he flipped the switch, but it went off and he shut the door.

“Hey hun!” Lori called from the bedroom across the hall.

“Yeah, what is it?” Duane answered.

“Our bathroom light just burnt out.”

“Okay,” Duane said and then ran to the garage to hide.