Fantasmagoria

Notice a curious little person—out of time, out of place—despite being ten, and at home. Nondescript in every other way: average build, average height, average brown, average brown, average tan. Nevertheless, Odd; in tune with some parallel Universe that manifested itself through a seemingly meaningless hole in the downstairs bedroom wall.

Both parents had noticed the opening during the family move (agreeing amongst themselves that it needed “spackling”), but when it became conveniently obscured by a nightstand the two adults were grateful to forget about this among other odd jobs. Yet it was, by a little someone, still remembered, and inspected closely—the peephole had apparently been dug from the other side!

It was clear that peering into the darkness would reveal nothing, though conversely, one could see everything fairly well in the space within… All that could be done, then, was to put an ear to the wall. At first noticeable only was that internal suction that one perceives when clamping both hands over one’s ears and sticking out one’s tongue.

Then slowly, on concentration outside of one’s self, it was possible to discern an ever changing, yet singular voice. The voice of infinite faces spoke always, telling of many things, related, unrelated to which the listener-in added another partial narrative; and so they lived, side by side, unknown and unknowable—unafraid—like monsters on opposite sides of a grown-up’s bed, but with a recognized infinite Respect.