The Seven Chairs

The masked thief stood between the columns of pillars that encased the abandoned ballet studio. The messengers arrived. They strode across the slick floor to the black clad figure. "We destroyed the chairs sir," one, a man, said. The thief made a face behind his mask. He knew a lie when he heard one. "All of them?" the thief asked impatiently. The other messenger, a woman, nodded quickly. More lies, the thief thought. "We burned them all. Except we had some trouble with the police. The fifth ended up in France. Xerxes tore it apart and threw it in the Thames," she said meekly. The thief chuckled silently. "And the seventh...?" he said. Both of the messengers froze. Silence. "Sir, we didn't know-" the man began. "Didn't know? Oh my. That just adds some more to my to-do list, now doesn't it?" the thief mocked. Then he spontaniously caught on fire. The woman was first to realize. "A dummy," she whispered. But it was too late. The pillars began falling. Beams swung off their posts. The glass windows shattered. A domino effect began. The messengers were both dead before they had time to move.

One day later.....Claire began her daily experience: eat, sleep, and watch television. As she began chewing her cereal, she clicked on her VCR and changed the channel to the news. "Thanks, Bob.Yesterday night, the museum of Natural Arts was invaded. The only pieces that wern't recovered with six chairs. Investigators are stumped. No one knows why a thief would steal six chairs but leave out the seventh. Moving on, two crushed bodies were discovered in the debris of what was an abandoned ballet studio.By passers say that the building merely collapsed around midnight. Identifacations still unknown. Now here's Ronda Rains with the forecast," the reporter said. Claire stopped. Angela's parents own that museum, she thought. She shrugged and set out for school. An interruption to her daily experience. "So Angela, what happened at the museum last night?" Claire asked during lunch. Angela's eyes widened. She was about to reply when-Angela Cross please report to the office. Still wide-eyed, she picked up her binder and got up from the table. "Talk to you later," she mouthed. Then she was gone. Claire wondered what had just happened. I'll see her tomorrow, Claire thought. But Angela didn't come back. Rumors began spreading that she had been arrested. Claire ignored them.

One week later.....Claire's job at home was to take out the trash. She lived alone with her dad, so it wasn't that often she had to. At 6pm, she heaved the garbage and went down the alley to the dumpster. That's when she heard the voices. She began trailing them until she was led to a dead end. "Did you destroy the chair?" a black clad figure asked with a familiar voice. The man he spoke to nodded. What's going on? Claire thought. The shadowy figure looked up. She was was spotted. Claire gasped and dropped the garbage with a clunk. She ran. The dark alley ways were like a maze.She didn't worry about getting home. Just about getting out of there. Claire looked back. The thief had stopped. She wondered why for a couple of seconds until she slipped on a puddle of oil. Claire went airborne. Who is that? she thought. Then, likewise to the trash, she landed with a sickening crunch.

One hour later..... Claire awoke tied to a chair. Looking around, she realized she was surrounded by stacks of crates. An abandoned warehouse. She tried to remember waht had happened. Images zoomed through her mind until- "Awake, I see," the thief said. Claire's head snapped up. The figure moved away his mask to reveal the face of Angela Cross. "Angela! I don't understand. What's happening?" Claire asked, frightened. Angela didn't know how to reply. "I don't want to do this Claire. But you know too much already," Angela murmured, inspecting a silverf knife. Claire gasped. "YOU stole the chairs! You robbed yourself! But why? I don't get it!" she cried. Angela sighed. "Might as well tell you. You don't have a bright future ahead of yourself," she said sharply. Claire changed her fearful expression to one that became angry. "Anyways, the horrible accident at the ballet studio was my doing. I killed those messengers. Can't find good help these days. They didn't destroy all the chairs. And why, you ask?" Angela broke into laughter. "My parents got into an argument that simply couldn't be solved. I vowed to ruin them. So I began to start with their economic life. Claire. I can't have anyone in my way," Angela said, tightening the grip on the dagger. "Your insane!" Claire screamed. Angela snapped. She threw the knife straight at Claire, who was still tied to the chair. She struggled in the ropes. Then she put all her weight to the left. The chair collapsed and Claire let out a faint squeak. She missed death by an inch. Fortunately, Angela's action is what caused her demise. The blade embedded itself in a crate. If Angela knew this was a dynamite warehouse, she would have found better coordinates. The air exploded. Flames spread across the looming stacks of boxes. Claire swung violently until she slipped through the ropes. Smoke whirled around. Angela was already leaving. "You won't escape!!!" she shouted hysterically. She had gone insane. She turned around to face Claire. She reached into her suit and brought out a shiny pistol. Aimed it at Claire. Grasped the trigger. And suddenly dropped the gun. "No!" Angela screamed. A burning crate fell from its tower and split into a dozen pieces of rebar. They all were falling downward at a fast rate towards Angela. There was a dozen sounds of thump thump thump. Claire closed her eyes. She didn't listen to the fatal shriek. Claire didn't mourn. She got out of the blaze alive. She got home and stumbled into the couch. "Did you have fun taking out the trash? her dad asked from the kitchen. Claire looked up in surprise. She scanned the room from her dad to her burnt and scarred clothing.

"Yes. Yes I did."