During one of our frequent hikes, my friend had requested I house sit for her and her husband. It would only be one night. The request came oddly after we had just been discussing a similar situation where my roommate desperately invited a stranger into my own home to watch the animals for a single night. I had been uncomfortable with the idea, especially when the ex-girlfriend of a friend of a friend did not show on time, and I had to rush out leaving a key in a hidden locale. That one night away had been fraught with worry about what type of person may have been left with all my personal belongings. All to feed a couple of fish.
My friend's situation was a bit different though. Her pet was not encased in a glass aquarium, but her faithful companion. The dog was joining us on that hike. It was energetic, hyper-active even. Unleashed, it would dash through the brush, vanish, and come charging back at us, only to vanish into another set of underbrush. It would do this for the entire hike, only stopping when its master, my friend, demanded it drink water before continuing. Apparently, the dog was, as dogs are, prone to panic attacks when left alone for too long. My friend could have kennelled the dog, but that would be expensive and time consuming, not to mention the dog would not appreciate it. I was more than willing to assist. The dog did enjoy my company, and as I was not allowed to own a furry companion of my own, it would be a welcome retreat. Escaping the noise of my own apartment would also be welcomed.
My apartment itself wasn't actually noisy. I lived on the fourth floor of a suite that overlooked the highway. The noise could be easily shut out simply by closing the windows. My roommate was also far from a distraction, and actually always an enjoyed break from my day. The noise came from that fact that I worked from home. In fact, I worked in my own bedroom. My job involved getting yelled at for eight hours a day. When I got off work, my bedroom was also where I sook entertainment. It was where the large majority of my activities took place. It was where my stress, my joy, my tears, and my excitement occurred. I loved it, but it also filled my head with trivial matters, sometime to such an extent that I could not clearly think.
I came over the day of to see them in a rush to finish packing. It appeared to be a lot of work for a single night. Apparently it was a reunion of some fashion, and was actually a big gathering where each group brought something to the party. While the two were frantic to get going, the dog was happy to see me. The other creature I was to watch over was their cat, who was less certain of me. Looking at the cat reminded me of an old man with an eye patch sneery at the young ones nearby. As opposed to explaining the lengthy process on how to prepare either animal's food for the night, my friend had pre-prepared their meals, and left them in the fridge. There was naught else in the fridge beyond their food and a bowl of something that may have once been called edible. All I had to was put them out when the time came. She gave a quick set of directions, which mostly included "Don't let the cat go into our room, don't let the cat go into the basement, oh, and whatever you do, don't let the cat go outside." Apparently the old cat still dreamed of its youth, and didn't realize that it was no longer physically, nor mentally, capable of doing the things it once was.
With two large hugs, the two were off. As my friend left, she locked the front door. She gave a joking laugh, "Hahaha, and now you cannot leave!" Her husband moaned while looking at his watch. They were already late, and last second jokes were uncalled for. She jumped into the driver seat, the two waved as they vanished down the road at a speed taken to make up for last moment jokes.
With them gone, I setup my computer so I could check the internets. Nothing of too much interest. A friend had gone on a morning hike, and shared the pictures of their adventure. Another shared a dozen or so lies from some conservative website. Someone was hungry; another had pictures of their lunch.
The dog was quite well behaved when others were around. She sat near me, faithfully watching the front door. If I got up to move, she would follow foot, occasionally rolling over to request a belly rub. For the most part silent and glad to have a pal around. I did not expect much else from the dog. She wasn’t expected to misbehave while someone was around. I had even seen her at dinner parties, where she might make sure to locate herself near the sloppiest of eaters, but would not stoop so low as to beg. She waited for a crime of opportunity, but would not be uncivil directly.
The old black cat was still skeptical of me. It sat on the couch, on top of a blanket near me which I could only assume was "his." After a moment, I gave it a pet. While its body vibrated in a fashion akin to a purr, the sound it emitted was closer to a grunt. It had a chronic upper respiratory function which caused all sorts of minor problems, such as rendering it incapable of making a purr. It also snored louder than my bulldog had years ago. Occasionally the cat would sneeze out snot across its face. Much like a proud old man, it refused and hissed at any assistance I tried to give. Well, the limited number of old men I've had to clean snot off of their faces have hissed at me.
In the early afternoon, I realized I was hungry. The husband had suggested I go to a nearby shop that had "The best sandwiches in the city." The wife's opinion was moot as she was vegan. I left, locked the animals in, and headed off. The place had the feel of a small town butcher shop, that also sold a large assortment of alcohols, and a short line to get a sandwich. I ordered what I try everywhere that I can: a french dip sandwich. I don't know if one can be a connoisseur of sandwiches, but I was as close to that as you could be for a french dip sandwich. I ordered it to go, not wanting to leave the dog to fret about my where-abouts too long.
The dog had begun to worry during my absence, but nothing frantic yet. It checked me out before giving me kisses. It was well trained, and did not beg for any of my food. The cat did me the gracious thing of letting me live in its presence. The sandwich was impressively good. While not the best I had, I wrote down the name of the place as to remember where it was. With a full belly, I decided to do some truly heavy lifting: I picked up the book my friend suggested and lent to me, and started reading.
While the book was entertaining, laying down while on a full stomach had another effect on me. Drowsiness. I found myself requiring sleep. I hadn't been sleeping well in my own residence due to the heat. My room held its temperature well, which unfortunately meant that during the summer, it was often too hot for me to comfortably sleep at night. The couch was half occupied by the cat, and it enjoyed swatting my leg off anytime I kicked them up. My friend had set up a room for me upstairs.
Climbing the stairs was a fun experience. Each step gave a creak as I stepped. Each of the 14 steps was a unique sound. I wondered if they had ever tried to make a song by properly dancing across the stairs. I would have to go on to youtube later and check to see if others had already done such a thing.
Even the first step in the hallway creaked under foot. The floor gave a slight bit. Enough that I had to check to see if it was truly a hidden compartment. The boards were a much smaller size than the rest, but at this time they had all been nailed down. Old houses had plenty of curious histories and noises and niches to them.
The upstairs had five rooms. Of them, four had their doors open. There was the master bedroom, the bathroom, a sunroom that overlooked the back yard, the room they had set up for me, and the mystery room. I believed it was one of their office's, or perhaps a craft room, I could not recall from the rushed introduction to the house. My bedroom was in the corner of the house, facing the street and the neighbors. Two windows, either side of the bed, kept a good circulation flowing through the room, albeit it let the noise in as consequence. The street was not a major street, but it was still busy in the afternoon. The next door neighbor was doing yard work. I didn't worry about my clothes; I let myself fall into the bed. I could hear the dog plop itself as guard outside my room. The sounds may have slowed my sleep, but they did not prevent it.
I woke up facing the corner wall. It was still light outside. The neighbor was still gardening; cars were still driving by. I must not have slept very long. I didn't feel rested. Getting back to the book would be nice.
I couldn't move. My body was frozen solid. I've had bouts of sleep paralysis before. I could look around. I saw my legs. I saw something beside my legs. I was coming back. I could feel something behind me, almost curled against me. I went to scream. Something covered my mouth. My hollers were muffled.
I heard the gardener's shovel go thunk into the ground.
I woke up facing the corner wall. It was dark outside. I could move, and that was a relief. If it had been fall, the darkness would not have been distressing. But it was summer, and for it to be that dark outside, I'd of had to of slept for at least four or five hours.
I looked around the room, but I couldn't see anything. The gardener was most definitely finished. There was still some minor traffic, and their lights occasionally lit up the room. The only other noise came from the walls. Sounded like water running through the pipes. I most likely forgot to jiggle the handle on the toilet after I used it last, and it was still slowly draining. Old toilets did that.
I got out of bed and walked to where I remembered the door being. Ny hand felt the wall beside the door. I couldn’t find any nobs. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my cell phone. I had installed a program that turned on the camera’s LED light. Its start up noise was like that of a flash from an old time camera. Using my cell-phone flashlight, I saw that the light switches were on the other side of the door. I flipped them.
Light. But only for a moment. A car had driven by, lighting up the room. The ceiling light itself stayed off. I checked the walls for another set of switches, but nothing came to view. I took a breath, and kept my mind rational. This was an old house, and it was to be expected that not all the light switches would work. There would certainly be one in the hall. Or downstairs. If my nightmare scared me enough, there was no shame sleeping on the couch downstairs. With the animals.
The dog was not outside my room at guard. The cat, which I had been warned was a secret cuddler, was also no-where to be seen. But I was only in the first room, and there was an entire house to search.
The light went off. I never paid for the "full" version of the flashlight app, so every 30 seconds or so it would flash off to give an advertisement. After a few camping trips, I had learned to quickly get it back on. But still there was a moment of to of darkness. A moment or to where irrational fears were allowed to pervade. Where every horror movie and book I've ever read were just as real and alive as -
My flashlight was back on. I entered the hallway and took a moment to examine it. All the doors were now closed but one. The one left open was the only one closed at the beginning. There was a draft through the hallway. These creeky doors could have easily slammed shut, and that one could have easily blown open. Coincidences occur. But an investigation could wait for the morning. First thing was to get some lights on. Second step was to locate the animals. Third step was to drink some alcohol before going back to sleep.
At the top of the staircase, I took a moment to switch my makeshift flashlight off and on. Last thing I needed the morning headlines to say was "Dumbass afraid of the dark trips on stairs and breaks neck." Not the most dignified way to be remembered. Laughter also bolsters bravery. I took the steps down. This time the boards did not so much creak under my weight, but instead groaned. Long, painful, tortured cries, as if my weight was breaking their back. I went down slowly, trying to listen to the room below. Perhaps I could hear the snores of the cat or the dog.
There was a crash downstairs. As if something fell from a high place. It did not shatter; most likely a book. At least I knew the cat was downstairs. I took a moment to listen if I could hear the cat scurry. Nothing, but I was not well known for my ability to hear well. My flash light went off. I quickly worked on getting it back on.
It was during this darkness that whatever creature was in the room below decided to move. It scurried to the bottom of the stairs, and stared up at me for a brief moment. I could see the glow of its eyes, but not its form. It appeared to be between the height of the dog and the height of the cat, and thus could be neither pet. I could not see its legs, but its eyes moved closer and upward, as if it was taking a step up to the next stair. It lurched down, as if to strike.
The sound of car driving by could be heard. It looked at the door. It took a dash. The hallway was lighted up. Before the light was gone, my flashlight was back up.
A noise came from upstairs. Specifically from the corner room that faced the neighbors and the street. Specifically my room. A heavy sound, like something rolling out of my bed. Or perhaps the car driving by just vibrated something to fall. Either way, I could investigate all my worries once I had a stable light source.
The rest of the stairs moaned on my way down. There was no hiding my approach, and I was okay with that. Perhaps I opened the dog door or some other foolish mistake, and an animal wandered in. Would not be the first time a strange animal had creeped into one of my houses. Generally the noise was enough to scare them off. Another problem easily dealt with once I had a permanent light source.
I was at the bottom of the stairs. I strafed across the room towards the front door, shining my light through the living room. Nothing immediate- no, there was movement. On the far side of the room, at the fireplace. I was counting the final seconds of my light, prepared this time. I stared at where the movement came from.
Light went off. My hands did not fumble. Light was back on in a single breath. Nothing to stalk me, to freeze me in my place while it got ready to strike. This time it was precision. The movement on the other side of the room was still coming from the fireplace. A slow, rythmic, pace. I took a step forward, moving my light to get a better angle.
It was breathing. The fireplace. There was a blanket placed over it so neither animal would sneak into the fireplace, nor bird or bat fly into the house through it. Wind, or temperature change, or pressure change, or some science-y thing was causing the blanket to go in and out of the fireplace, and appear like it was breathing. It was subtle, but in the darkness understandable to have caught my eye.
The front door was locked, and the chain was up, just the way I placed it. This meant no intruders came from the front door. A reassurance. The lightswitch was exactly where it should be. Three switches. I flipped all of them up and down, but nothing happened. I remember the two outside lights were out; but why wasn't the inside light coming on.
In the center of the room was a ceiling fan. Two chains dangled from it. One for the fan speed, and one for the light itself. I did not want to have to take chances. I pulled both. Neither came on. I flipped all the switches. I pulled both again. Neither came on. I pulled both again. Nothing. Flipped the switches. Another double. More nothing.
Time was about up. I looked down at my phone, preparing to make another precision flashlight change.
Something moved at the fireplace. Not the breathing of the blanket like before, but above it. On the shelf. It had snaked between picture frames quickly. My light died before I could catch what it was. My light was off, and my hands were no longer ready. I focussed back on the light. Something plopped to the ground right by the fireplace. Another noise came from upstairs,
from my room. And this time it moved out of my room.
The light came back on, and I shined it at the fireplace. I saw something, something quick, flash into the dining room. The tail of the cat, I told myself. "The tail of the cat." I was talking to myself, out loud. The room was draftier now, windier. The wind was being pushed down though, at me.
I was standing under the fan. It was on, blades spinning. A car drove by, and shadows danced around the room. So there was power in the house. But...the lights weren't turning on. I did not know if this was a relief or more worrisome. The main room did have two huge open windows that let all light in from outside, it was quite possible that they simply saw no reason to replace the lights down here. But that did not explain the upstairs, which did not share the same comfort.
I looked out the two major windows, and saw my car still parked on the side of the street. Plenty of other vehicles as well, for all the neighbors. "At least I can scream to get attention." After my dream, reassurance that I could still speak went a long way. Something told me, in the back of my head, to run to my car now. Get in it, drive home, check on the animals in the morning. But I could not let my friend down. I did not want to leave the animals beside themselves for a night. She trusted me to this task.
I turned my attention to the dining room. Two double doors opened to it, allowing me to view all of it, and part of the kitchen from my position. Before taking a step in, I examined as much as I could. Make sure there was nothing under the dining room table. Nothing hidden between the picture frames. Nothing around the corners. I reset my light, and crossed the room to the kitchen.
The door to the basement was in the kitchen. I finally caught sight of what was haunting the house. A tail flashed down through the ajar basement door. Not furry and puffed up like the dog or cats. Instead I could see the bare flesh beneath, with patches of fur. Something sickly. Perhaps a possum or a stray that had seen better days. I could hear it scatter down the basement.
If that was the cat, and my eyes were playing tricks on me...I’d apologize in the morning. I solidly closed the basement door. With not much time on my phone, I scooted over to the fridge, and swung the door open. The light from inside wasn’t powerful, but it was something. I switched my light back on, and checked the back door. It, too, was still locked. The dog door was also closed. There was a screw in the door that kept the door from sliding up or down.
The thing upstairs moved from my room to the top of the stairs. I was set to discover what it was. I was quiet, methodical, as I snuck back through the dining room. I left my phone off for a moment as I reset the light, listening to whatever it may be slump down a few of the stairs. When my light came back on I slid across the living room wall. I stopped at the base of the stairwell, and I waited. I turned my light off, on purpose this time. I waited, and it slumped down a few steps. It was now in the middle of the stairs. It would not be able to escape me now.
I flashed my light on, and I made a quick jump to look up the stairs. I’d finally have the culprit at hand.
Or an empty stairwell. There was nothing waiting for me. No monster or bogeyman. I waited a moment, confused. The stairs made a bump sound, down the next three stairs. Nothing had moved or anything. The building was simply old, and creaked on its own.
Further to my relief, I saw respite from this permanent darkness. At the top of the staircase was an old mirror. The dusty and partially warped mirror was not the light I was looking for, but now I could see that the fuse box was hidden behind it. I bounded up the stairs, no further concern of catching a creature off guard. Facing the mirror directly, I could not blame myself for not noticing the answer to my light problem had been there all along. I could only see the bottom of the fuse box from the bottom of the steps, but not now that I was staring at it straight on.
I carefully removed the mirror, balancing it against the wall. I opened the fuse box, seeing quite a few moved to the off position. I reset my light before snapping them back over. I closed the door, picked up the mirror, and hung it up carefully. I made sure it was rebalanced.
Doubt filled my head. I remembered something. Downstairs, in the living room, the fan had come on, but not the light. The problem was not just the fuse box.
No. The problem in the living room was not just the fuse box. The rest of the house very well could be the fuse box. A final adjustment was made to the mirror before I turned to the light switch. It was just to the right of the stairwell.
His hands were cold. One was placed across my mouth, another grabbing my phone-wielding arm. I was slammed against the wall. The perfectly hung mirror came undone from the wall, crashing to the ground. It shattered. He squeezed my arm, and the cell phone dropped. I tried to scream, but it was muffled from his hands. I struck him with my other arm. The other doors opened. Each and every one. Another individual came out and grabbed my striking arm, and pinned it to the wall.
My flashlight landed shining upwards. Their faces were lighted up like some scary story told around a campfire. In my moment of restraint, I realized I knew these two. I couldn’t see their full faces, just a portion. Both had frequented my friends dinner parties. Why were they breaking in to my friend’s house? Odd that that was my concern. Not how to escape. Not how they got in. Not what they were planning on doing with me. But why?
Others came upon me. They did not hurt me beyond the restraint. Simply, they slid my across the wall. I tried to look around, but I could only move my eyes. They were moving me towards the mystery room.
I was pushed in, and before I could recovered the door was slammed shut. I leapt to the door to try the handle, but it had already been locked. I did not waste time working on a door that I knew would not simply give. And if it did give, what was I going to do? Fight off an innumerable amount of individuals who came prepared in the dark. No, I needed another exit.
I felt amongst the walls. I was looking for a window, or a vent. Something where I could scream out of and maybe get help. Or please, oh god please, an escape. I tried to ignore the sounds outside my room. Hushed conversation, and footsteps. Someone had gone downstairs. Into the kitchen. Into the basement.
I found a window. Well, I found a windowsill. Above the sill were bricks, mortared tight and closed. I quickly continued to the next wall. Another sill, another set of bricks. I kept going. There had to have been something. And something before the footsteps back from the basement. Through the living room. Up the stairs. Across the hall. And what had just been one set of footsteps was now a pack.
I found a light switch.
The door opened, and something scurried in. And another, followed by at least a third. And a familiar voice followed. “Thanks for coming over to feed my pets. You forgot a few though...”
I could see their eyes. Glowing. They lowered themselves closer to the ground. My hand was on the light switch. I could finally see what they were if I wanted to. I had no doubt this one would work.
I lowered my hand, refusing to click the switch.
I did not wake up. It was dark.
