Behind the Screen

Prompt 1 — Finish the Scene

In 500 words or less, create your own ending to the scene provided below.

The shades were drawn again for the fifth day in a row. Harper never behaved this way. Normally, I would see him exercising on his treadmill from the back-sliding door facing the pool or washing dishes by the window that interfered with the growing path of the hydrangeas. Something was off. He hadn’t been to his usual spots like Sunshine Grocers or Mad Mustache, the dive bar with the nostalgic jukebox. What could be keeping Harper inside and unattached to the neighborhood? There had been no deliveries for the past few weeks. No visitors. No movement. Nothing. The last time Harper had been seen was when he walked out to collect his empty trash cans by the curb and carry them inside the garage, just to close the heavy automatic doors behind him. He normally dragged the cans to the side of the garage, except when taking a trip, which he followed that procedure of storing his cans behind the shielded garage doors.

The neighborhood was in a slight buzz talking about Harper for the past few days. The talk would always start with Janice, his lonely neighbor next door. She would pass on her thoughts and concerns to Beatrice, who lived across her lawn in a newly landscaped, cottage-styled home. Then Beatrice would rake her leaves in the backyard and calmly discuss the situation with her retired next-door neighbor Vance, who always pretended to be annoyed and preoccupied with his latest project waiting for him in the garage. This is how word would spread first. But in the end, it always came to me through the mail woman, Darcy. She took great effort to craft her delivery so that I wouldn’t presume her to be nosy. Just a bored civil servant keeping her sanity by fitting in. This time, however, I caught the chain by way of Janice and Beatrice walking up my sidewalk and catching me between trips to my mailbox.

“Have you seen him?”

“Who?”

“Harper! We haven’t seen him about the neighborhood in a while.”

“Oh. No, I haven’t seen him. Why don’t you knock on his door?”

The two ladies shifted their weight and gave a concerning glance at each other.

“He isn’t the warmest of sorts with the two of us. We wouldn’t want to create a needless concern. Would you mind checking in on him for all of us?”

My breakfast began to come unsettled. Harper was a nice sort of man, but usually didn’t take well to conversation. The longest conversation we held lasted just over half a minute. I found a letter addressed to him in my mailbox, and, according to Darcy, the mix-up was due to a sorting error at the post office. What could I say to him this time?

“Why don’t you call him?”

“Believe me, we tried that. Vance said his phone is shut off. Can you just go knock on his door? He likes you.”

“He likes his mail. I just happened to return it to him that one day.”

“Please? Do it for the neighborhood. We would hate for something to have happened to him and his neighbors earn a reputation for not having a heart.”

I took a deep sigh. What’s the worst that could happen? If something is wrong with him, then I could be the brave neighbor who discovered his situation and be useful. If not, then I could get asked to a lot of other stuff for other people. I would prefer to stay home and watch the Master’s Tournament.

“Fine, I’ll go check on him.”

“Wonderful! We will let Vance know.”

The walk to the Harper’s front door was easier than expected. The morning temperature was perfect, and his yard had plenty of shade. But at the front porch, the stomach pains started again. The door was an unnatural wooden hue, stained too many times over the years. My palms began to sweat. My sweaty hand formed a fist and raised to the thick wooden door. A quick tap from the knuckles, and the door slowly creaked open. Opened and unattended.

“Harper?”

Just behind the door the room is dark, but there are flashes of light on the ceiling. Something feels wrong. I’m left with no choice but to walk in.

The air is stale, but humid. The front door opens into the living room, and my shoes land on soft carpet. Over to my right I see the back of a couch and a man sitting on it, watching TV. The TV is throwing light around the room, casting other-worldly shadows.

I walk around the couch and face the man. His eyes are glazed over. They are completely locked on the TV. His face is pale and drooping. His body appears to be slightly sunk into the couch, and a beer bottle is on the floor, near where it fell from his hand. Around the bottle there is a dark stain in the carpet that has long since dried.

I follow his stupefied gaze to the TV. Looks like some kind of New York sitcom with a laugh track. I’m not laughing, but… I let out a gasp.

He is a character on the show! Well, more like a fitter, clean-shaven version of himself. He’s clearly the life of the party. The laugh track can’t keep up with his one-liners. I look at the dream-like, drugged look on the face of the man on the couch

“Harper, can you hear me?”

Suddenly the laughing on the show stops, and Harper’s character looks directly at what would be the camera. He excuses himself from the party and steps out on the balcony. He takes out a huge cellular phone from the 90s and pulls out the antenna.

“What is it? I’m a little busy right now. My friends are waiting on me.”

Is he really talking to me through the TV? Is he somehow trapped…?

“Are you inside the TV or something? I don’t understand what is going on.”

“What’s going on is I’m living my best life. I have friends who adore me! No more Beatrice and Vance. No more going to the store. Taking out the trash. Same damn thing day after day.”

I take another look at the man on the couch. It almost looks as if he has sunken in an inch more, and he appears to be leaning to the right…

“Harper, you’re not in a good state right now. I don’t know what is going on, but this isn’t right”

I move towards the TV and look for the power button.

“Don’t touch that button! This is my life now! You can’t make me go…”

But I pushed the button. The picture dissolved into a black void. I hear a sound, and turn to see Harper has fallen to the floor, gasping. He looks at his hands and then at me. He looks unbelievably tired.

“Harper, I’m sorry. You looked terrible sitting there. It looked like you were…”

“Going to die. Yes, I think I would have.”

He looked up at me, and tired as he was, I could see appreciation there.

“I feel so weak. I must not have eaten in days…”

“Harper… Why don’t you clean up, and let’s go down to the diner. You’ve got to tell me how this happened.”

“Yeah, that’s…that’s a good idea.”

He turned to move away. I walked to the door, but turned.

“It’s good to have you back.”