Halloween I.F. – “Going Dark” – Day 7
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Well, it wasn’t like they had anything else to do while they finished eating, Fern decided. Normally they’d be all over researching those weird photographs, but… without internet, they didn’t think that was possible. They could take a cell phone photo of them to follow up on when they eventually left, but that was about it. Given how long sending a single line of text took, they couldn’t imagine sending a photo would be successful any sooner.
And honestly, even if it did work and they got an answer back in a day or two, they should probably be focusing on their writing. The photos might be a mystery, but their small podcast audience wanted things they’d at least vaguely heard of, not randos Fern had seen in photographs. Well, maybe they could add it as a fun bonus for subscribers. They weren’t usually involved in their own stories—their last episode had been about the Princes in the Tower, and it certainly wasn’t like they had anything to do with the Dionysian Mysteries, they just thought it’d be a fun tie-in with a video game release—but maybe some people would like the personal touch.
Whatever. No more delaying, or the radio host would move on. Refusing to think about it any further, Fern picked up their cell phone and dialed. They could have used the house line for this, of course—but that vague, overly-worried part of them didn’t want a number that might be traced to a specific physical location.
“Listeners! We have another caller.” No screener? Weird. Small radio station, probably. “Will you introduce yourself for us, Caller?”
Shit. They hadn’t planned on that, somehow. Scrambling, the only thing that popped into their head was an old episode of the Simpsons. “Guy,” they blurted. They managed to avoid adding Incognito after.
Bannick laughed. Fern became abruptly aware they were still hearing Bannick’s responses over the radio, not into the phone. Their own voice wasn’t out of sync, the way they expected it to be in case the call needed to be censored, but so perfectly aligned to not trip them up. Like they were having a conversation with the radio and not someone on the phone. Weird, but they imagined radio tech had changed somewhat since they were younger.
“Well, Guy,” Bannick said, in a tone like he was in on the joke and welcoming Fern to share a laugh at the situation. “What did you want to talk about?”
They hadn’t thought at all about what to talk about, only what not to talk about, but they supposed they could let Bannick steer the conversation. Well, with one exception. “That previous caller. Are they your ex?”
“Aris? No, no,” Bannick said with another laugh. “We’ve never fucked.” Fern didn’t know they could say that on the radio, but with no screener to bleep it or delay to bleep it in, who could stop him? “Personally I think it’d be better if we did, but that generally should be a decision both parties agree to, and, oh, it’d really just ruin our social circle. But enough about Aris. Tell me about you, Guy.”
What felt safe? “I’m not really a local, so this is my first time catching the show,” Fern said. “I’m renting a cottage up here.” That wouldn’t surprise anyone; this was cottage country. “Weird little place. Lots of odd decor choices.”
“Anything particularly fun?”
They should avoid anything that would be too obvious from the outside—or maybe even to someone who might have rented the cottage before. No mention of the locked room, then, or the spiked tree outside that someone who visited could easily see. “There’s a weird mirror in the basement.”
“A weird mirror?” Bannick’s voice sharpened with interest. He sounded almost hungry for a moment—it was a slow radio night, though, and Fern’s own podcasting experience had shown that little details were the thing people got caught up on. “Weirdly shaped?”
“Just… odd. It’s free standing but kind of busted. Wavy, so things don’t look quite right in them. Gives me the creeps,” Fern offered.
A laugh from Bannick again, almost too sharp. “Yeah, mirrors can be creepy. You know, some people think they’re portals into another world.”
Fern slowly spun spaghetti around their fork. “Don’t those people mostly say it like oooh, don’t let two mirrors, liiiiike, faaaaace each other or you’ll create a poooortal to heeeelllll?”
“Hah!” Bannick took a moment to recover from that impression. “Well, for people who believe that, the mirror’s already a doorway. The issue they have with making mirrors face each other is, I guess, that you’ve then created a tunnel. I’m not a fan of mirrors at all.”
“No?” Fern prompted.
The radio crackled for a moment. “Sorry, almost lost you,” Bannick said. “No, body issues, we all have ’em to some extent, right?”
Oof. “Right,” Fern said. “Anyway, I uncovered the mirror when I first got here, but I’m thinking of covering it back up. Out of sight, out of mind.”
“That’s one way of dealing with it,” Bannick said. “But you know what would be more fun? Go ahead and see if it is a portal. Put your hand on it. Recite some kind of incantation, I don’t know. I’m not going to suggest you slaughter a chicken—”
“All the chicken I have here is pre-slaughtered,” Fern said.
“Right, accessibility is but one of several notable issues with animal sacrifice,” Bannick rejoined immediately. Fern grinned a little; this guy was fun to talk with. Good banter, great sense of humor. Gorgeous voice, too, honey-smooth and inviting. “But I don’t know. Have some fun. Call back tomorrow to update us. Any weird ghost visitations after? Nightmares or visions? Or you can tell us blankly that nothing, of course, happened, and really disappoint all the witchy fans who like to come out to cottage country to get in touch with Mama Nature.”
Fern found themself laughing, an undignified little snort-choke. “Maybe,” they allowed, not committing to anything. “I’d probably feel better if I demystified it.”
“That’s the spirit. Anything else interesting around there?”
The urge to bring up the other oddities was very strong. “There are some odd photographs here. A Victorian woman and, I think, her father.”
Bannick paused for a long moment. “Is that so? That’s odd…”
“That’s what I’m saying,” Fern said. “They were hidden, but I might be a little bit of a snoop.”
“What a person snoops on in the cottage they are privately renting is their business, I always say,” Bannick said lightly. “We’re running out of time, Guy. Any last messages or comments?”
Only one came to mind. “I appreciated what you said. About loneliness, I mean,” Fern admitted. “I came here to be far away from the press of humanity, but it’s so quiet. I was pretty glad to hear your show when I did.”
“It’s a good place to come if you want to leave humanity behind,” Bannick agreed. “Lousy for company, though. Glad to hear from you, Guy. I hope you let our worlds overlap again before you leave.”
Fern’s phone line went dead, and Bannick laughed again through the radio. “Wasn’t that fun, all? Another lonely light in the darkness. But it’s time to snuff out those little lights and head to bed. Let me play you out. Good night, good night, Bannick out.”
No station identifier—this was definitely not a commercial broadcast. There hadn’t been ads, either, come to think of it. The station went to music, but it was all Baroque tunes, nothing modern. Fern plugged their phone back in and ate their last bite of food.
They did the dishes still listening to that music—they thought about changing the channel again, but they were reluctant to get too involved with number stations; spy stuff freaked them out, because unlike most of history’s mysteries, spy stuff was too real and dangerous. Besides, they felt like they owed it to Bannick to keep listening for a little while.
But when the dishes were done, they clicked the radio off. They felt too-wired, nervous in a new place with pitch darkness outside all the windows now that the sun had set. They could just go to bed and try to sleep, or go work on their writing until they got too tired to stay up, but they wondered if there was anything else they might want to do instead…
[Comment below with a suggestion for Fern]