That Buzzing Sound Below by Kel Daniels
Pay it no mind. Certainly don’t follow it down the dusty stairs. Don’t open the door to the garage, the heavy, steel door meant to contain a major fire. Don’t stand dumb and scared on the grease spot where the formerly old now dead couple that lived here before used to park their Ford Galaxy back when. Don’t contemplate the gray box emblazoned with a red lightning bolt.
Don’t step toward the ugly hiss. Don’t unlatch the box. Don’t pull open the warm metal door with trembling fingers and stare into the snarl of wires that hum like a hive of angry hornets.
Don’t select a screwdriver from the plastic tool box. For God’s sake, don’t poke the wires, or even suddenly wise up and pull the big lever, plunging the garage into darkness and silencing the air conditioner.
Don’t feel your way back up the stairs like a blind man. Don’t grope through the kitchen drawer until you find the toggle with your thumb and ignite the flashlight. Don’t follow the weak beam back down. Don’t wonder about the shiny, black cylinder in the electrical box. It doesn’t concern you.
Don’t look for wire cutters, and especially don’t substitute garden shears to slice through the black and red wires. No matter how good it feels, don’t do it. Just let it go.
Kel Daniels’ fiction and nonfiction has appeared in the Cimarron Review, Puerto del Sol, Sonora Review, South Dakota Review, Third Coast, Eyeshot, GSU Review, Orange Coast Review, Mayday Magazine and other literary publications. He lives with his wife and son in Rock Island, Illinois, where he teaches creative writing at Augustana College.