Are You Afraid Of The Dark   ::   Sheldon Sidney

Kelly stepped out of the elevator, fumbled for her key, found it, and ran back into her apartment.

She raced to the ringing telephone and picked it up. "Mark?" A strange voice said, "Nanette?' Kelly was disappointed. "Nous ne connaissons pas la personne qui repond a ce nom." "Pardonnez-moi. C'est une erreur de telephone." A wrong number. Kelly put the phone down. As she did, there was a tremendous crash that shook the whole building. A moment later, there was a babble of voices and loud screams. Horrified, she rushed into the hall to see what had happened. The sounds were coming from below. Kelly ran down the stairs, and when she finally reached the lobby, she heard loud, excited voices coming from the basement.

Apprehensively, she went down the stairs to the basement and stood in shock as she saw the crushed elevator car and the horribly mangled body of Madame Lapointe in it. Kelly felt faint. That poor woman. A minute ago she was alive and now… And I could have been in there with her. If not for that telephone call…

A crowd had gathered around the elevator, and sirens were heard in the distance.

I should stay, Kelly thought guiltily, but I can't. I have to leave. She looked at the body and whispered, "I'm so sorry, Madame Lapointe."

* * *



WHEN KELLY ARRIVED at the fashion salon and walked in the stage door, Pierre, the nervous fashion coordinator, was waiting.

He pounced on her. "Kelly! Kelly! You're late! The show has already started and-" "I'm sorry, Pierre. There-there was a bad accident." He looked at her in alarm. "Are you hurt?" "No." Kelly closed her eyes for a moment. The idea of going to work after what she had witnessed was nauseating, but she had no choice. She was the star of the show.

"Hurry!" Pierre said. "Vite!"

Kelly started toward her dressing room.

* * *



THE YEAR'S MOST prestigious fashion show was being held at 31 Rue Cambon, Chanel's original salon. The paparazzi were near the front rows. Every seat was occupied, and the back of the room was crowded with standees eager to get the first glimpse of the coming season's new designs. The room had been decorated for the event with flowers and draped fabrics, but no one was paying any attention to the decor. The real attractions were on the long runway-a river of moving colors, beauty, and style. In the background, music was playing, its slow, sexy beat accentuating the movements onstage.

As the lovely models glided back and forth, they were accompanied by a voice on a loudspeaker giving a running commentary on the fashions.