The Wall - Part Two

Another night like so many. Dark, foreboding, merciless in its eerie silence. Inside my office, I hear the noises again, noises I do not make. They come from within the walls or from under the floor. In the beginning, I thought it must be rats that were running around, playing some sort of morbid game of tag. But the sounds made are much louder than rats. I think perhaps—no that wouldn’t be right. That some sort of human, maybe a creature of unknown origin is running under my floor or through my walls? Impossible.

But every night it has always been the same. It never changes. There has even been a thud-thud-thud, like knocking on a door, but never a voice, never any image to see. I really don’t know what to make of it except for the last five minutes.

In those last minutes, like sandpaper going across wood, I hear a moaning, almost groaning utterance that made me sit up to see if I could understand what might possibly be said, but I couldn’t, and this was a new development. It was the first time I heard something that might be (almost) human.

If this place is haunted, there was never any record of it, but I think there is some sort of spirit that feels trapped here, but what can I do. I told my Realtor, Sandra about it, and all she did was smile and tell me the house is only three years old and only lived in once by a much older couple.

But he or she is about to leave me for the night, this much I know. For when the clock strikes midnight, the quiet will settle in and I will be in an even deeper silence.

Funny perhaps, but now, I wait for the return each night in hopes I may see this image that parades around my home.

But for now, I sleep.

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Weekends in the summer in Raleigh can be interesting. Downtown they have a large outdoor stadium for concerts that for the most part are free. A lot of local entertainment will simply rock you and if your forty or fifty, when the concert is over, you’ll feel like your twenty again.

I did find a nice little place called Abby’s Tavern that makes the best Rib-Eye steak sandwich I’ve ever tasted. I decided then and there, this place would be a pit-stop for me when I run about on Monday’s. Today was just a day to get in more sights of the city itself.

One thing that is good, traffic isn’t a monster like other big metro areas. Although the Interstate can get pretty rowdy at times, especially if there may have been an accident. And today, it got rowdy. And weird.

Traffic was backed up a good mile and my exit to go home was less than five-hundred feet away. I t was like a slow crawl to get there, like an hour. Stopping and starting and stopping, I turned the radio on, and after a few minutes, that’s when it got weird.

One minute a good song was coming through the speakers by ZZ Top, and the next thing, a second voice, sort of, was crying or moaning above the music. It was the damndest thing. I even switched to another station in the middle of a Guns and Roses number, and that noise was on that one as well. All I could think was, there was some static electricity running from their power stations somehow.

When I finally reached my exit, I felt like a man released from prison after twenty years—free. In fifteen minutes, I pulled up to my house, parked the car and went inside.

Walking into my office, I kicked off my shoes and started a pot of coffee as I readied myself for more writing. Today was going to be another good day for me. Funny, in a sense, I feel like I’ve been reborn with all this energy inside me.

Turning on my computer, waiting for it to boot up, I pushed away from it and the desk. That same noise on the radio was coming through my speakers. My first thought, not now. Don’t crash on me. But as quickly as it came, it left just as quickly. Sighing a relief, I began writing.

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She searched every room for signs of the green fluid she followed into the house. It was like a trail set before her, easy to follow. Four times she shot this creature and now its blood leaked like a busted pipe. Jazzie was ready to put the finishing shot to its brain that would end this nightmare for others who had been living in fear of the Goblin Ghost.

Okay, that’s enough for one night. Good place to stop. Save my work, then get some shut eye. It’s been a long day.

Getting up from my chair, the lights from the ceiling fan began to shimmer, as if fading but not fading and then the sounds came again. That incessant grating. Sandpaper. I shivered for I had this strange thought of what if someone took sandpaper to my face or hands and rub without mercy.

Then I did something I hadn’t done before and called out to the sound. Not out loud but in my mind.

Who is there? What do you want with me? Why are you doing this?

I sheepishly smiled thinking maybe the Ride Into Darkness books were mentally playing tricks on me. But what I saw next, wasn’t a trick.

The moaning sound came from the wall in front of me, but then something else did as well. A hand. A slender hand. Open and palm up, but it stopped at the wrist. And that was when I heard this time, not just a noise, but one word. Come.

I took a couple steps back and stumbled over my office chair, I was so startled by this.

Come.

I looked at the hand and the wall, knowing the voice came from inside the wall. This was insane. Or was I going insane?

Come.

I didn’t move and then my grandfather clock struck midnight with twelve bongs, and the hand disappeared, and I heard nothing else.

Pulling myself from the floor, I went to the bar I have between the kitchen and dining room and made myself a drink. Actually three drinks. I needed to settle my nerves, try to calm my breathing. I just witnessed something I never should have. Oh granted, I write horror, detail the paranormal, but did I believe in it? Not on your life. But after this—I don’t know what to believe.

It wasn’t until close to one-thirty before I could finally go to sleep.