The Chair

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More Details
Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: The Imaginarium
An electrifying short story that will shock you!

Submitted: February 16, 2019

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Submitted: February 16, 2019

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The elevator door swished open onto the second floor. A large crudely made chair of dark wood was being pushed out of the elevator by two delivery men.

One of the delivery men had his nose pressed hard against the arm of the chair as he grunted and puffed.  The sweet sickly smell of burnt flesh still radiated from the chair, making the delivery man feel quite nauseas.

“This thing is giving me the creeps.” He said as he tried not to trip up on the trailing electrical cables.

“Yeah! Lets just deliver this thing and get the heck out of here.”

Both men stopped pushing the chair to take a look at the clipboard that was resting on the seat. “Number 38.” Said the first delivery man.

They both scanned the corridor reading out the odd and even numbers when the second delivery man called out that he found the apartment. Together they pushed the chair towards ‘Number 38.’

The first delivery man took the neck chef out of his pocket and wiped his brow as he pressed the doorbell. John Patterson flung open his apartment door and beamed with excitement like a child at Christmas upon seeing the chair. Rubbing his hands with delight, he took over from the first delivery man and together with the second, pushed the chair into the middle of his apartment.

Jumping for joy and clapping his hands, he quickly signed the delivery note, not bothering to read the disclaimer from eBay or the Louisiana State Penitentiary dismissing them of any responsibility for the chair after purchase. The two delivery men, collected the signature bid Mr Patterson farewell and promptly left his apartment.

John Patterson didn’t even notice the apartment door shut as he circled the electric chair. Once the euphoria of it being delivered had begun to subside, John afforded himself a quick shot of sitting in it. He wiggled around, as most people do when sitting on a new chair, then fondled the arms remarking to himself how smooth the wood was.

Then putting his feet on the foot rest, he noticed the bolt holes where the restraining straps would have been. As he sat there thinking of all the people that had been fried in this chair, he began to smell the sweet sickly scent of burnt flesh.

The sound of the doorbell ringing made John jump out of his chair. With his heart pounding he gave a nervous laugh at being scared of his own doorbell. With some composure he opened the door to see a man smiling waving in front of him a carry bag. John was surprised to see it was the man he had bought the chair from.

“You forgot these! I tried to phone the delivery company but they told me the chair was already on route. So, I thought you’re only across town I’ll take them myself.”

John thanked him and took the bag still not knowing what could possibly be missing!

“The restraining straps.” Said the man watching John peer inside the bag. Then looking over John’s shoulder, “I see you have it already in front of the TV. Good spot! Come on I’ll help you attach the straps to the chair!”

John sat in the electric chair watching the man re-attach the restraining straps. “It was so nice of you to come all this way.”

The man waved the comment away, “No use to me since you have the chair.”

Once he finished, the man stepped back admiring John sitting in the chair. Then a thought struck him. “Tell you what. Why don’t I strap you down and take a picture of you? How cool would that be? It could be a real good ice-breaker at parties, I bet you’ll get a lot of those Gothic chicks at the college banging on your door after they see the photo.”

 John thought for a bit, some girls do like the macabre side of life. He smiled and willingly agreed. The man fussed around John’s wrists then ankles attaching them before tightening the straps. Now firmly secured the man stepped back and pointed John’s phone at the chair. Looking at the screen, he paused.

“What’s the matter?” John asked.

The man screwed up his nose. “You know what, it would look more authentic is that metal hood was placed on top of your head.

John looked up for the first time in to the metal hood. The charred interior of the hood looked to still have hair follicles stuck inside.  More reluctantly this time due to being unable to move, he felt no choice but to agree.

“Good!” said the man lowering the hood down onto John’s head, feeling the cold steel against his scalp together with the blunt ends of the electrodes. Being restrained with the hood on his head, John felt a little uncomfortable and wished the man would hurry and take his picture.

But instead of being in front of John, the man was now fussing behind chair. “I see you haven’t got it plugged in yet. Well, it won’t take me long to have you wired up!”

For a brief moment John wondered if he heard right, then when he saw the man running the cables that led down from the hood over to the electrical junction box in the kitchen, he began to panic.

Only able to turn half-way in the chair, John shouted at the man. “Wait! What are you doing!”

“Want to make it really authentic don’t we. Now sit still it won’t take long!”

The man turned the power back on and kept it on until the screaming in the other room died away. On returning to see the electrocuted John Patterson, the man breathed in the fumes of burnt flesh. He would wait until John was cool to touch before dumping him on his apartment floor and removing the chair back to his home. He had a dozen more bidders on eBay waiting to get their hands on, ‘The Chair’.


© Copyright 2019 Markie Bee. All rights reserved.

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