My name is Jonathan, I was recently married to my husband, Nate, and we moved into a house together with our dog Blue. When we went to check it out, it was a very pretty house and I was instantly drawn to it. It’s walls looked old and the paint was chipped and stained, though the bright plants surrounding it made up for it, and almost looked like a perfect match. The door was a pure spruce with a small stained window in the center that didn’t show too much or too little. The inside was even better. The house was so amazingly furnished, even Nate loved how it looked. That only surprised me since normally he was a very picky person when it came to internal design, it was just so compelling to look at. The house had two floors. In the downstairs there was the kitchen with a beautiful table-and a door that led to the back patio, the living room, the guest room, the garage, and a bathroom. Pretty standard stuff for a house. The upstairs was very strange to me, but very nice nonetheless. When getting up the stairs, you were greeted by a bright orange wall with a spiral pattern lined with painted vines. Nate commented that whoever previously owned the house seemed to love this wall, and I partially understood why. Everytime I got close to it, it felt like it was drawing me in. Around it everything ALWAYS smelt normal. Wether Blue decided to take their business Infront of it, it smelt normal. Or if some stink bug was threatened there, it smelled like a normal room. Maybe that was one of the reasons I loved it so much–plus the fact that the neon orange just fit so perfectly with every piece of furniture. Along the back wall, across from the orange one, was an extra room we turned into Blues personal area. Along with one extra bathroom next to it. And at the end of the hall was the main bedroom.
We bought the house and moved in fairly quickly, getting everything tidy and set up. We were having our first ever dinner at the table and Blue was so still, and was faced towards the upstairs. I pointed it out. Nate just brushed it off as her being nervous from the move. Of course I agreed, because it just made sense, considering all of us were stressed. Though soon my worries started up again. The next day when we sat down for dinner at 5:32, Blue got up from her spot and climbed up the stairs. She left her bowl that was still half full, which normally she would never leave her food unless it was life or death. Nate didn’t realize she was gone as Blue was sat on my side of the table. I looked up the stairs where she went and Nate asked what was troubling me, so I told him. Again, Nate shrugged it off and told me not to worry, and things change. That as she gets older, she will probably change her habits. I was a little more reluctant to change the subject but eventually I left it alone aswell.
I couldn’t stop thinking about it the next day. We sat down for dinner the next day, and exactly at 5:32 again Blue sat up from her half-empty bowl and went up the stairs. Day after day Blue would get up at 5:32 no matter what she was doing and go up the stairs. At one particular night I was annoyed at how easily Nate was still brushing this strange behavior off, so I excused myself from the table and followed Blue up the stairs. When I got up Blue was just sitting infront of the orange wall, still as a statue. Her pupils seemed constricted as she stared, and her tail was unmoving at her side. Which again, was very unusual for the normally hyper dog.
After seeing this, I payed very close attention to the area. The longer I stayed, the more I felt stressed, but still compelled to watch it. After a little while I passed by the wall and squinted my eyes at it, looking at the dark orange colour. No, that couldn’t be right, it used to be neon, right? I pulled out my phone and scrolled through the photos I had taken when looking around the house and clicked on the picture of the wall. I held it up to the wall and sure enough, the wall in the picture was much brighter than the wall currently.
I considered telling Nate, but figured he would just brush it off again. I tried to think what he would, and ignored it. Going back to my regular schedule.
The only reason my “Think what Nate Thinks.” plan failed was when I passed by the wall and I wanted to rip my ears off. Inside the wall was a very high-pitched scratching noise, like someone was on the inside was struggling to get out. I freaked the fuck out and ranted to Nate about it. He was also freaked, but not because of the same reason as me. He kept asking if he could drive me to the hospital to see if I was alright. While he was trying to be kind, and I could see that, I was very irritated that he just didn’t believe me. We had a very small tempered argument over the house and we ended up coming to an agreement to call people to tear down the wall, since we both couldn’t last being mad at each other for long.
The next day Nate got an email from his boss and had to travel for work, and I offered to come with for support. Nate agreed so we took Blue aswell, and I had ordered the wall-removal for when we left, that way we wouldn’t have to deal with all the noise. The trip didn’t last long, though. Because a few days later, I got a call from the company.
“Hello, is this Jonathan Findley?” “Yes, this is him, is there a problem?” “Uhm, yeah. We were instructed to tear down a, orange wall in your home. But this wall is made out of Carbon Steel, and that they couldn’t tear it down, unless we paid extra.”
I told their exact words to Nate and now he began to share my suspicion, and we headed home as soon as we could.
When we inspected it for ourselves, we weren’t able to tear the wallpaper. Nate was spitting out possible reasons why the previous owners would have made the wall a really strong metal with somehow non-tearable wallpaper. We ended up leaving it to our future selves to figure out.
The next night I was startled awake by a blood-curtling scream that seemed to come from inside our own house. I hopped up as soon as I could, and Nate stretched himself awake, still not entirely up since it was the middle of the night. I crept out of bed and out the door, only to be met with the orange wall that now had a hole in it. Instead of it just being a hole in the wall, whatever it was, made my heart drop. Multiple tubes of intestines were hanging out of the hole, with blood splattered everywhere and a singular eye laying on the carpet. Pieces of bone were scattered all over the ground and mixed in with the blood, and there was some skin and stomach fluid mashed everywhere. I almost immediately threw up at the sight and couldn’t handle what I was witnessing. I ran back into the bedroom, slammed the door shut, and dialed 911 on my phone. The moment they answered I yelled at themcto send cops to our house because someone–or something, was killed.
The police came and escorted me and my half-asleep husband out of the house, and began their work. They had detectives and a clean up crew, everyone was talking about how this was one of the most disturbing things theyve ever seen, and I agreed to myself, still sick to my stomach at everything I saw.
I had Blues leash wrapped around my hand as the people continued to flood in and out of the house. The entire time she was tugging at her collar and pouting, whines in her throat. I didn’t let her go, obviously, but it freaked me out.
A few days later, we had stayed in a friend’s house for the time being, we were contacted by the police and had to go in for questioning. They told us that the body was found to be stuffed in the walls and was dead for months by a previous murderer that was already caught. I was furious. I started arguing that the scream that woke me up, came from the wall, and it was fresh. I reported all of the sounds that has been previously heard aswell. The cops suggested to Nate that I went into therapy, thinking I was making stuff up and messing with them due to trauma and supposed guilt.
A few days after, I went into the house to check it out, it felt like I needed to. Wether I wasn’t aloud to or not, I HAD to figure out what the fuck did that to the poor person. I walked in, went up the stairs and looked at the wall for a few minutes. Everything had been cleaned up, the clock shone with the time 5:32, but one thing made me shiver.
Emerging from the hole, was a scaley hand, with bloody claws and long, skinny fingers and a twisted wrist.
I didn’t know what to do, I just looked at it, it almost looked.. beautiful. I wanted to go to it, maybe I should.