Handcuffed

Not Newsworthy

With trepidation and a heavy heart, Shirley entered the tower. She gazed around her as though seeing it for the first time. "Interesting floor and ceiling," she commented.

"Yes it is," The Dean agreed. "What do you think of that picture?" he asked pointing to the picture of the Alps on the far wall.

"Seems vaguely familiar. I don't mean to be critical, but I think I have seen nicer pictures of the Alps."

The Dean didn't respond. He had been in the process of sitting down by the desk and turning on the computer. "Why don't you look out the window and tell me what you think of the view?" he told her.

Shirley made her way slowly, looking all over the floor very carefully, stopping about five feet from the window. "Not a place for someone afraid of heights," she said spinning away from the window, walking back to the desk, shaking and shivering.

"Since when are you afraid of heights," The Dean asked, looking surprised?

"I get it sometimes, it comes and goes."

"Hmm," he mumbled something unintelligible. "I told you, when you were working on the play, that I was working on projecting a picture with more then one projection lens. Recently, I have accomplished putting that picture of the Alps on the cliff walls out there. Why don't I show you?

Without waiting for a response, he began pressing some buttons on the keyboard and a familiar whirling sound filled the room. "Look," he said pointing to the window.

Shirley could no longer see the greenery on the cliff over at the far side of the chasm, it had become glistening coal-black rock, an exact copy of the picture on the wall.

"That is pretty amazing, Sir," Shirley complimented, "but how would something like that be marketable?"

"Meaning?" The Dean looked puzzled.

"Let me rephrase that," she explained, "what is the purpose of doing this?"

"Ah," The Dean smiled getting out of his seat, "the purpose. I will get to that."

He walked over to the window and looked out with a cry of dismay. "Oh no," he cried, "One of the lens must not be operating, look at the green section on the far left near the bottom."

Shirley walked toward him, but stopped when a few feet away. "I can't look," she said in a trembling voice.

The Dean was disappointed. "I was hoping you could climb up to my projector lenses up there, and fix it. I guess not."

Shirley stayed quiet.

"We can take care of this some other way," he said simply, "harder, longer, but effective none the less."

He went back to his desk, followed by Shirley, and began typing.

Shirley didn't even have time to react. Within two short seconds, metal bars had boxed her in. They had come from the floor and ceiling, meeting at the halfway point, creating a four-foot by four-foot cell. It caught her by surprised, though she was not surprised to see it. What did shock her was the look on The Dean's face. Nothing could have prepared her for the change that occurred.

It was vile, sinister, and evil mixed in a way that would have made some of the worst criminals cringe. He was laughing cruelly, with uncontrolled triumph written all over his face. Shirley could no longer look at it, it was so revolting. Then, almost as soon as his laughter began it suddenly stopped.

"I have done it," he cried out.

Shirley looked back at this revolting face with surprises all over her face. She didn't even ask what this was all about, since her facial expression was enough.