Silence, that’s the first thing I noticed when I first found myself standing in the maze of hallways and doors that exist between the walls of our own concrete jungles.
In every building there’s always ambient noise, be it distant traffic, the humming of aging appliances in far off break rooms, the soft hissing of air conditioners overhead, or the creaking of heating pipes and old wood settling as night air cools the structure.
Here, there is silence. A silence so absolute it’s almost deafening in its all consuming tranquility. The thick carpeting under my heels seemed to soak in the noise of my steps, and even my own voice calling out in uncertain query was muffled, the passageways swallowing the words almost as soon as they left my lips.
In other places, as I’d later discover, the noise is almost endless, a sea of dripping water and rusty vent fans echoing through the halls in a never ending cacophony of background noise that other, native inhabitants of this forgotten place are quick to take advantage of.
But I’m getting ahead of myself, I have a few spare moments while I wait for dinner to sear, and a single bar of signal so I should probably start with how I first arrived here, and my initial adjustment period. I came here, {as I assume most people do,} quite by accident.
* * * *
I came here, {as I assume most people do,} quite by accident.
It was another dreary rainy morning, the clouds a lead blanket over the city as I hurriedly stopped off to check the mail on my way to work, the cold autumn wind snaking up my mid thigh length skirt to make me shiver in discomfort.
I’d been in this building countless times before, and knew the route to the mail boxes almost by heart, but this time a wet floor sign and puddle of foul smelling brown liquid dripping through the ceiling tiles overhead forced me to take a detour. My alternate path of choice led me down a less used side hall that diverged into another forked set of corridors, my right turn ending at a short pair of steps that lead up to a generically bland faded wooden door with a somewhat sticky metal knob.
I wrinkled my nose in revulsion as my palm grasped its tacky texture, trying not to dwell on the specifics of why the doorknob was anything other than the expected worn metal I’d expected to feel.
Absentmindedly wiping my palm against my rain dappled jacket I eased the door open and stepped through, my elbow banging painfully on a jagged outcropping of dry wall as I noticed the doorframe seemed to have been wedged into a poorly patched hole in the wall itself, stepping out into another, more narrow passage.
Sighing in frustration I nursed my sore elbow and turned to the left, pausing as it slowly dawned on me the path ahead was utterly, impossibly, wrong.
The hall ahead stretched thirty or more feet before taking an abrupt right bend out of sight. “That can’t be right.” I stated, blinking in confusion, my mental map of the building put the exterior wall no more than a dozen feet ahead or less! A glance to my right showed a much shorter route that ended in a T section, another door in the middle of the intersection’s bland beige drywall and equally drab gray corporate carpeting.
Ah, I simply got turned around! I thought with an embarrassed smile. Shooting a parting glare of irritation at the outcropping of plaster I’d smacked into a moment ago I turned to my right and swiftly strode to the T section before pausing, again at a loss as I noticed the all encompassing silence that made my every breath a hurricane force of sound, aware for the first time the unusual lack of windows anywhere, the t-section passageways extending in either direction impossible distances that would lead either into the busy highway, or main floor of the crowded shops next door.
Hypoxia? I pondered the question for a brief second, comparing my situation to a mental checklist of symptoms I recalled from my brief stint as a nurse years back. Noisy breathing? Check. Change in mental status? Check. Anxiety? Check and double check! A quick glance at my nails and hands showed no discoloration however and I quickly discarded the possibility. A Stroke? Pulling out my phone I quickly gauged my ability to read the most recent text message and swiftly set aside the worry, the words easily legible as I noticed with mild concern the complete lack of a cell signal.
Taking a deep breath I turned around and began retracing my steps, quickly scanning for wifi connections on my phone. It was less than a dozen paces to reach the poorly repaired wall and the… Door? The hall I’d stepped into previously was a faded beige drywall, but the one I found myself in now was rustic oak paneling, similar to a 1960’s trailer.
“Put away the phone and pay attention girl or you’re going to be late for work.” I told myself with a nervous smile, shaking my head and turning around to make my way back to the intersection I’d clearly taken another wrong turn in.
Faded beige, the path was certainly the right color, but the collection of doors along the route were all wrong. Smooth white painted metal apartment doors lined the walls at regular spaced intervals, sharp neon lights reflecting off the maroon tiled floor beneath that reported in muted snaps from the strikes of my high heels as I came to a stop. “You were a sad gray carpet a minute ago!” I declared, staring accusingly at the floor, my anxiety rising as I felt my voice swallowed by the oppressive silence.
A prank, A few wall screen tv’s mounted sideways and placed in the middle of a hallway, a bit of clever sound proofing, a cell jammer and pull away carpet along with some sticky door coverings, someone’s after YouTube fame. I felt my rising anxiety melting away as the obvious explanation occurred to me, turning I opened the door to my side and hastily stepped through, eager to be done with this pointless diversion and get back to the office before I was indeed late enough for my absence to be noticed and warrant a reprimand.
The door opened noiselessly, as I hesitated on catching a glimpse of the room beyond. Oak paneled floors and soft blue walls decorated with wildlife pictures and beautifully shot photos of a young couple on a hike, the short hall opening into a living room brightly lit by an overhead light fixture. Trespassing into someone’s apartment uninvited was extremely risky, especially these days.
A sudden feeling of unease at the silent halls behind me quickly overcame my initial trepidation and I crossed the threshold, closing the door behind me and engaging the lock out of both habit and childlike fear of what lay behind; the click as it snapped into place almost gunshot loud in the still air.
I just need to find a window and orient myself with the outside, or just climb out it, I’m still on the ground floor after all. I reminded myself, stepping into the living room and giving it a quick glance around, a worn leather couch half covered under a thick blue velvety blanket sat in front of a window, the glass framed by a set of dark brown curtains, the window frame itself boarded over with thin wooden slats.
Leaning forward I ran my fingers across them, pressing firmly to gauge how well they were affixed to moorings, pausing as I noticed a lack of light from between the slats, a deep inky darkness in its place, the smell up close faintly hot and acridly musty, like a attic closet on a summer’s day.
Something about the scent made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, and I recoiled abruptly, the darkness beyond the boards seeming to almost slither in place as I glanced around the rest of the interior.
It was a small apartment unit, the rest of its meager offerings visible from my vantage point, directly ahead was a small rudimentary kitchen, almost bare save for pine cupboards over faded granite counters on which rested and a coffee maker and antique looking microwave, its white paint faded in chipped as it pressed up against an equally aged fridge. The magnets on the front holding a hand scribbled grocery list I dismissed out of hand. The stainless steel sink near the far wall across from the pea green electric stove had another, equally boarded over window to nowhere.
To the left a doorway opened into a cramped bathroom, a bare 40 watt bulb affixed in the ceiling, its weak light showing the space between the toilet and stand up shower barely large enough for a person to sit without banging their knees on the plastic door. To the right of the bathroom entrance a somewhat more spacious bedroom was visible, the bright light from the living room letting me discern the outlines of a queen sized bed and darkened rectangle of a dresser to its side, the dark green shag carpet seeming to swallow the light like a starved houseplant.
My gaze drifted back to the boarded window as I smoothed my skirt under me and sat down on the couch, closing my eyes briefly and trying to collect my thoughts and make sense of the insanely baffling, yet seemingly benign situation I found myself in.
A loud rumbling hum tore me from my moment of tranquility, my gaze narrowing on the source of the unexpected intrusion, the dilapidated iceboxes compressor struggling in its ongoing duty to cool its contents, a sudden pang of hunger reminding me my hasty cup of coffee, and handful of orange tic tacs as I rushed out the door this morning were a poor choice of breakfast.
“Of course you don’t have a landline.” I said to the empty room as I glanced around, debating on the wisdom of pilfering the rightful owner’s fridge. “Who the hell does these days?” With a sour glance at my phone and the continued lack of signal I returned it to my purse and angrily marched over to the fridge, yanking the door open in frustration.
The interior bulb was thankfully busted, sparing me a ready view of whatever was causing the unbearable stench that assaulted my nostrils. It was a thick, almost cloying smell that stuck in the back of my throat and struck me like a fist between the eyes as I slammed the door back in place and rushed to the sink, gagging for an agonizing moment as my stomach warred with its meager contents and I felt the sting of bile on the back of my tongue, forcing myself not to hurl through sheer force of will.
Out of habit I reached forward and turned the faucet to cold, eager to rinse the taste of near vomit from my mouth, the pipe making a soft hissing sound before coughing forth several spurts of tepid murky water that reeked of iron.
Letting it run for a moment I fished open the cupboard next to the sink, several chipped coffee mugs and scarred plastic tumblers rewarding my efforts as I noticed out of the corner of my eye the boards across the window were.. Leaking?
The stale cascade momentarily forgotten, I focused my attention on the aperture, taking a hesitant pair of steps closer. The darkness between the boards was melting, like warm dark chocolate, the inky blackness was slowly oozing between the slats, thin trails worming their way down the sides to trace the hairline cracks along the boards faces.
Reaching into my purse I withdrew a ballpoint pen, the bank logo printed on the side, an unwelcome reminder of the lecture that would be waiting for me when I finally did make it to the office.
Carefully I prodded the tip a full inch into gooey substance, half expecting my pen to sizzle or melt on contact with the inky black surface, its thickness reminding me of stale peanut butter, or partially dried glue, letting out a small cry of alarm when I felt my writing implement held place by a vice like grip, the slowly flowing substance edging further up its shaft.
Swiftly surrendering my pen to its fate I retreated towards the relative safety of the sink, the tepid water now a steady almost laminar flow that sparkled with translucent clarity. Grabbing the nearest cracked mug I hastily filled it while eyeing the molasses-like substance as it engulfed my pen, pulling it deeper into itself where it was swallowed by the void.
Sniffing the water cautiously I noted that it smelled clean, the taint of iron now missing, raising it to my lips for a cautious taste as I kept one eye fixed on the oozing window. Cold! The thought snapped my attention back to the mug, the water within feeling barely a degree above freezing, my lips quickly numbed by the contact as I hesitantly swallowed, the sense of relief palpable as the burning in the back of my throat vanished.
Turning off the faucet I held up the half empty mug thoughtfully, stepping closer to the crawling shadow and dribbled a thin stream across it. On contact the surface bubbled, reminding me of peroxide on an open cut, the darkness retreating into the wall like a mirage an eye blink later, making me briefly wonder if I’d imagined the entire incident.
The pen that exploded from the blackness into the wall next to my head a second later quickly changed my mind, bits of hard plastic stinging my left cheek as it disintegrated into a shower of debris!
Dropping the mug I hastily turned and ran for the door, my high heels making me stumble painfully and smash my knee into the coffee table as I fell forward and sprawled helplessly onto the floor, kicking off my heels in panicked haste as I risked a glance towards the boarded window, expecting the inky nothingness to be be once more emerging from its confines.
The crawling shadow seemed content to stay within the barricaded opening, the only motion the rolling fragments of coffee mug as the water pooled against the wood flooring, the fridges compressor turning off with a shuddering rasp that marked the return of the all consuming silence.
Stupid dress code! I mentally cursed, giving the high heels a hate filled glance as I gathered them in my arms and painfully crawled to my feet, my gaze fixed on the far window as I retreated from the interior, the unknown maze of hallways behind me less terrifying than the darkness beyond the window.
* * *
The makeshift soda can stove has almost exhausted the bits of wood, fibers and oil I’ve been using as a fuel source, and my first meal in nearly three days is steaming hot. So I’ll continue my recollection later, after I’ve eaten, and shared what little there is with my companion, and perhaps risk a few hours of uneasy rest, grateful for the windowless supply closet we’ve managed to squeeze ourselves into.
Assuming in the days to come I can yet again find a location that grants me a faint signal on my phone, I’ll check my messages and continue with another update, darkness willing.
Entry #2 of ?: https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/185rxe7/the_world_between_the_walls_entry_2_of/