Last year, i moved into a middle class house right around summer time. The move went smooth, and it seemed like everything was just…working. Not one thing broke for the duration of the cycle, i had plenty of friends to assist me out, hell i even found twenty bucks in my couch! Beer cash? Hell yeah!
Anyway, back to the house. For the introductory day or two, i thought life couldn’t get any better; my girl was wholesome and beautiful, my friends were happy, and my parents were fixing their relationship. Nevertheless, i hadn’t realized – until it was too late – that i was doomed to remain in this prison, which i sit in now as i tell you this story.
The introductory time it happened, i was in my room. I was in the zone on my xbox. You recognise what i mean, where you get 10 headshots without breaking a sweat? Yeah, that. As i was kicking fat terrorist ass i heard motion downstairs (my room was on the second floor). It sounded like somebody was running around down there. Like, they were running from room to room banging on the walls, just being flat out obnoxious.
“hey, jeff! Get out of my house, i said three-o’clock, dumbass! ”
The noise stopped.
I waited a couple of moments before turning back to my game, but it was too late. I was already doomed. I saw it come at me too late…a tank.
“son of a…” i sighed.
The following few days were normal, there were no more sounds that shouldn’t be there, just the pipes, the heater, you recognise the sort. Yet, in regards to 3 days later, that moron jeff snuck into my house and started beating up my shit.
“alright, you aren’t getting off so easy this time! ” i shouted as i charged down the stairs. As my foot hit the last step, something out of the corner of my eye moved. I looked over so fast that i got whiplash. “oh, dammit! ” i moaned. I didn’t even compensate any attention to the fact that whatever was in my house – had disappeared.
After that, it got worse.
That same night, as i layed in bed, the banging started again. Not only was it worse, but it was on my floor of the house this time. I was certain i locked everything before i came up here, so here i was pissing my pants at 900 miles per hour while something despoiled and destroyed my house. I actually pulled the blankets over me – hey, i was frighted – as the noise neared my door. Exactly as i expected it to bash open my door and slaughter me, it stopped.
The following morning i grabbed my baseball bat as i got out of bed, whether or not whatever that thing is, was hushed and still out there, it would regret it. I didn’t find anything, but my house was trashed. Nearly everything was tipped over, torn, broken, missing, or worse. I just figured i had been robbed.
I called the police, they didn’t do shit. But the noises stopped for a week or so, and that made things posing no difficulty. Certain i was pissed that some fuck despoiled and destroyed my new place, but leastwise i was ok. But, naturally, i recognise now that it wasn’t a robber, or jeff, or the pipes in the walls…it was the thing in the walls.
A week after the incident, it came back.
This time it was pissed. I was startled out of my slumber by the noise of a vase breaking into a thousand pieces downstairs. Smash it went, with little pieces hushed and still breaking a couple of seconds after the introductory smash as whether or not to mock me.
Not long after, i started to listen more spacious and deep, guttural banging noises on the walls again. Coming from inside of them, no confession and doubt. As i lie there in my bed, i let out the tiniest, quietest, timidest squeak by absolute fault, and the noise stops.
Sharpest ears i’ve ever seen, those were.
After various painstakingly long moments of repress and silence, i freed the breath i was holding, thinking it was over for now. Big fault, i realize, as the noises all of a sudden begin to rampage up the stairs. Incredibly fast, incredibly piercing, smack, crash, bang versus my wooden floor.
The beast, which i could now accurately call it, broke my door open with intense strength, thrusting it all the way to the opposite side of the room. Being an enterprising and intellectual individual, i had already occult and concealed underneath my impenetrable field of shelter and safety known as the mutual blanket.
The noise of this monster running through my room, it’s footsteps enough to harm my eardrums at this close, was the scariest thing i had ever competent and experienced in my entire life.
With a sudden burst of adrenaline, i threw the blankets off in the direction of the…thing, in some way making a direct impact to its face. Whoever – or whatever – this was, was stunned. But not for long, and i knew that. I frantically moved across my room, attempting to make it out the door, downstairs, outside, where i could attract public attention.
This night, luck wasn’t on my side. I knew this as a prominent hunk of my hair was grabbed from behind and pulled out with such strength that pieces of skins came along with it, along with a shitload of blood. Before a scream escapes my voice box, i’m being retained down by a dark, hairless beast that walks on all fours with a face i can scarcely imagine again, that then smashes my head with it’s fist, sending me into a dark, welcoming sleep.
Somebody new has moved in, but they don’t even recognise my existence, the jackass. I regularly and patiently watch, wait, listen, hoping that they will. But no. Not me. I’m not worth it to them.
Perhaps whether or not i bang on the walls.