”The floor is crooked,” I sighed. “I thought you said you checked this place.”
“I did,” Daniel nodded. “But you know, you gotta pounce when you see something like this pop up. This was a steal.”
“Because it is crooked, Daniel!” I groaned. “You bought us a crooked house!”
“It’s not crooked!”
I reached for an apple I’d saved in my purse and put it on the floor. Slowly, it started rolling.
“You pushed it!” said Daniel. “Look…”
He picked up the apple and walked up to me. He didn’t meet my eyes.
“I’m sorry. I checked it online, there were no bids, and this was well within our price range. It is so close we don’t even need a moving van, we can just take it all by car little by little. We can still back out, but it’ll cost us.”
He sighed and looked up at me. He was really trying.
“Just think about it. And, not that it matters, but…”
He put down the apple on the floor.
“…this place isn’t crooked.”
As Daniel stepped outside for a smoke, I watched the apple.
It didn’t roll away.
We talked about it. Even though I was skeptical, Daniel was convinced that the place was perfectly fine; if a bit old. He could accept that the insulation was awful, and that we needed new windows. He could accept the wiring issues in the kitchen, and the bad water pressure in the shower. But he couldn’t accept that the house itself, the entire house, was crooked.
But no matter the argument, we’d lose a ton of money if we backed out now. I had to live with it, crooked or not. At least Daniel was happy.
Moving day wasn’t too bad. We got most of it done in an afternoon; we even put together some cheap IKEA furniture. Daniel brought his work friends over to help with the heavier stuff. I kept my mouth shut and just listened. No one commented on the crooked floor, and nothing rolled off.
When the others went out to get some pizzas, I was left alone in the living room. Again, I picked up an empty bottle and put it sideways on the floor. It didn’t move.
For a second, I just breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe I’d unknowingly pushed that apple back when we first checked the place out. Maybe I was just imagining things. I could still feel the tilt under my feet, but it was messing with my head.
A clinking noise snapped me out of it.
The bottle had rolled straight across the room and bumped against the wall.
Over the next few days, we put everything in place. Clothes were folded and neatly sorted into our wardrobe. We placed all the carpets, put up all the picture frames, and plugged in all the lamps. Step by step, the house started looking homely. Daniel was talking to some carpenter friends of his about fixing the insulation, and we’d booked a plumber to come by and check the water pressure. Apparently, there’d been a citywide problem with the reservoir recently, causing the water to turn black. Luckily, we never had that problem.
But I always felt like there was something more to it. Not only the crooked floor, but also little sounds. Creaking floorboards and squeaking doors. Sometimes I’d hear them at night, but Daniel had no idea what I was talking about. Was it just me being too critical, or was my mind actually playing tricks on me? At that point it was impossible to tell, and it gave me an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. Especially while lying awake at night, listening to the little sounds pattering through the house. Which were real, and which were imagined?
Was the floor crooked or not?
I remember waking up in the middle of the night, hearing a door open in the foyer. A wave of unease spilled over me as I watched Daniel’s breathing gently rise and fall. We were alone, but it was the exact sound of someone entering the house and walking around. Should I wake him? Should I check it out myself? Was it just my wild imagination again?
I decided to stay in bed and wait. I heard the pitter-patter of feet, making the floorboards creak. I just laid awake, listening, hoping it wouldn’t come closer. If this was all imagined, why was I scared? Like, really scared? Why was I expecting sharp teeth and claws to come around the corner?
Instead, I heard a voice.
“Someone is listening” a muffled voice said. “Someone hears us. Someone knows.”
There was a rustling noise, as from a paper bag.
I watched Daniel stir in his sleep.
Then, there was nothing.
Daniel didn’t seem bothered by anything. To him, there were no creaking doors or slanted floors. He seemed perfectly fine with this house, and I didn’t have the heart to bother him with my worries. He was already moving on to the next set of worries; work, and social obligations. I still didn’t know if I was just nitpicking, or if I was really hearing something he didn’t. The floor really was crooked, so I knew we were seeing and experiencing things differently.
I tried my best to just ignore it. To just keep on living my ordinary life. I went to work, I came home, I did the dishes, I washed my clothes… nine times out of ten it was perfectly fine. But every now and then, something small would slip through the cracks.
I remember pouring myself a bath. I’d put on a nice bathrobe, brushed my hair, put on some lotion, and then noticed how the water pouring out was pure black. I called Daniel over.
“Looks fine to me” he said. “You want me to pick up some salts? I think Trader Joe’s-“
“You can’t see it?!” I laughed. “You can’t see that it’s black?”
“What, the water? What do you mean?”
“The water, Daniel! It’s filthy, how can you not-“
He just didn’t see it. He gave me this helpless look, like he didn’t know what to do. I was scaring him. I was unreasonable. To him, the water was fine. No matter what I said, he wouldn’t see it. Instead, I just kissed his cheek.
“I guess it washed away,” I sighed. “Just keep an eye out.”
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“I’m fine, I’m… I’m sorry.”
“If there was anything wrong, I’m happy to fix it, but…”
I turned around. The bath water was pitch black, but he just couldn’t see it. There was no point in arguing. It was like trying to describe a color to a blind man.
“Please, just… keep an eye open. I don’t trust these pipes.”
“Anything you want, honey. I just want you to be happy.”
He kissed my cheek and left me alone. With renewed confidence, I took the plunge. It was just a bath.
I tried to imagine the water being pure and pristine, but I couldn’t. It would shift in temperature, and there were times where I could feel something small swimming with me; pressing against my body, as if looking for a crack in my skin. I tried picking one up, but they always slipped between my fingers. At most I’d get something resembling a piece of dirt; something black and shapeless, crumbling at the slightest touch.
What was supposed to be a relaxing evening listening to audio books in the bath turned into a five-minute stress-scrubbing as I hurried to get out. Seeing the black water seep into my pores, I raced to finish up and just get out of there. As pulled the plug, I watched the filth drain out of the tub, one drop at a time. Little chunks disappearing with the spiraling vortex.
Using the showerhead, I washed the bathtub clean. Little black spots, shivering, washed away one by one. Perhaps no one but I could see them.
But there was no doubt.
I could see them.
Most of the time, it wasn’t a bother. The occasional noise, a strange shadow on the wall… it was there, but it was inconsequential. I tried to bring it up with Daniel every now and then, but I just couldn’t find the words without sounding like a paranoid nutcase. He just seemed so fine with it that I didn’t have the heart to bring it up over and over. Whenever I wanted to, he’d give me this tired look, like there was something wrong with me. I know he didn’t mean to, but still.
The breaking point came one night as Daniel had some work friends over. They were all hanging out in the living room playing cards and listening to music. It’d been a long day, and I was tired from work. I was barely paying attention, but I still wanted to give them a little something. I prepared a big tray of chips, dip, and a bowl of olives. Daniel loves olives, can’t get enough of ‘em.
“Everything okay in here?” I asked as I stepped through the door. “Daniel, you keeping our guests-“
What the fuck.
What the fuck was that?
As soon as I stepped through the door with that big tray, I noticed something was off. At first I couldn’t tell what it was. There were six people, all looking at me with big smiles on their faces. Cheerful music pumping through the speakers. Clinking beer bottles. But there was something else.
Just outside the window facing our backyard, there was another face looking at me.
It was only there for a heartbeat. A pale face with round, ball-like eyes. A hand pressed against the window, searching for a way inside.
Six fingers.
In a moment, it was gone. I hadn’t even noticed that I’d dropped the tray. Why did my throat hurt? Had I been screaming? Why was my pulse racing?
“Honey?”
Daniel put his hands on my shoulders and looked into my eyes. I hadn’t even noticed I was trembling. My eyes were still drawn to the window, looking for whatever was skulking around.
“There was… uh…”
I couldn’t find the right words. All the faces had turned from happy to worried.
“There’s an, uh… animal.”
They all looked out, but of course, no one saw anything. There was nothing for them to see. They didn’t notice the same things I did. Daniel didn’t look out, he just held me tight.
I looked down at the tray I’d dropped. There was shattered glass jangled in a mess of chips and dip.
The olives were rolling across the crooked floor.
That’s all it took. That was the last straw for me to break down bawling.
That night, I laid awake. I twisted and turned, not knowing if the little sounds I heard was coming from my own mind, or the house, or something else. As the clock struck two in the morning, I’d had enough. I got up and washed my face with cold water.
As I stood in the bathroom, watching the dark shade under my eyes grow darker, I heard Daniel walking across the living room. I thought I’d woken him up. I peeked out of the bathroom, just to see Daniel still sleeping soundly.
But there was still someone walking across the living room floor.
As it dawned on me that there was an intruder in the house, I panicked. I held my breath, listening for any sign of where they were going, or what they were doing. I heard my own heartbeat in my ears, pounding away like little punches at my mind. I counted one set of footsteps, and a strange crinkling noise. They could probably see the open bathroom door that I was hiding behind. I was trying to stand as still as possible. A drop of sweat was already forming, and my face felt flushed.
“She’s here,” something whispered. “She looked at us. She sees.”
Footsteps coming closer.
“Find her. Wake me. Please, wake me.”
Something on the other side of the open door. Clawed fingers curling around the doorframe.
I could see Daniel stirring. He was waking up. Maybe the light from the bathroom was bothering him. I just carefully shook my head, as if that would make him go back to sleep.
“Not now” I mouthed silently. “Daniel, not now.”
But he woke up. He squinted at me, trying to blink away the sleep.
“You okay, honey?” he yawned. “Come back to bed.”
Something chuckled on the other side of the door.
The door was ripped open, the top hinge broke in half.
It was tall. Tall enough not to fit in the hallway, having to crouch and tilt its’ elongated head. A humanoid shape, covered in a black sludge, holding a dripping paper bag. The voice was coming from the bag, not the creature. It had these unnaturally long, clawed, fingers. It had this powerful acrid plastic smell. The kind that burns in your eyes and nose.
Daniel didn’t understand what he was seeing. To him it must’ve looked like I was having some sort of seizure, or a panic attack. But standing face to face with that… intruder, I couldn’t help but to scream. Fumbling backwards, I knocked over a small table, and took off running.
“Yes!” a muffled voice cawed. “Yes, she sees! Wake us! Wake us now!”
I took the back hallway through the kitchen. It was right behind me, knocking over lamps, pictures, chairs. It didn’t care, and it was rushing after me with complete abandon. I was burning every ounce of energy I could muster, moving at an explosive pace. I tumbled over the kitchen table to give myself some space, spilling a saltshaker across the floor. I stumbled over the edge of a carpet and lost my balance, catching myself on a coat rack next to the front door. I had to get out. I had to keep running.
As I burst through the front door, I thought I was staring at the night sky. Hundreds of round, beady little eyes, reflecting the light from the house. Pale faces, six-fingered hands. Creatures not much bigger than a dog.
“No…” I gasped. “No, not…”
I had to keep moving. They’d catch me. Drag me down with their disgusting little hands.
I turned back towards the living room. The intruder bowled the kitchen table over and kept coming at me. I didn’t have a plan, I just had to keep moving.
The living room was a dead end. There were things outside, and the intruder was just too fast. I’d painted myself into a corner, and I was running out of options. I couldn’t fight it. I couldn’t outrun it. And it was coming right at me.
“Get her,” the bag whispered. “Let me wake up!”
I took a few quick steps to the right, trying to surprise it, but it blocked my path. It had such long legs that it could stop me with just a few steps. The bag flailed in its’ grasp, swaying back and forth. In it, I saw the shape of a mouth opening and closing, like a fish out of water.
Slowly, the intruder approached me.
“Honey?”
Daniel was standing in the doorway. His hands trembled as he held his phone to his ear.
“Honey, I-I… I don’t know what to do.”
“You can’t see it. You can’t see it!” I repeated. “It’s right here, but you… you just can’t see it!”
“Listen, there’s… there’s nothing wrong. There’re no strange sounds in the night, honey. There’re no animals outside. And, and look…”
He took an orange from a fruit bowl and put it on the ground.
It didn’t roll away.
“There’s no crooked floor.”
I looked at Daniel, then back at the intruder. Those long fingers reaching for me. The crinkling of the bag. The muffled voice. But then my eyes drifted.
No matter what, that round little orange wasn’t rolling away. No matter what I was feeling, what I was thinking, what I was seeing, the floor really wasn’t crooked.
This couldn’t be happening. It was impossible. I closed my eyes and tore at my hair in frustration.
“Two things can be true at the same time,” Daniel said. “Maybe you did hear something. Maybe you did see something. Felt something, whatever. But can it not also be true that there was nothing there in the first place?”
It could be. He could be right.
Two things could be true.
The floor was, and wasn’t, crooked.
I felt Daniel wrap his arms around me. And for the first time since I first stepped into that house, I felt safe. Nothing was crooked. Nothing was outside. Nothing was chasing me. It was just me, Daniel, and a house of our own.
Finally.
Daniel was right about something. Two things can be true at once. I did see these things. I did experience them, felt them. But at the same time, there was nothing there. But as long as I am in control, I can choose which truth to perceive. I can feel that the floor under my feet is no longer crooked, but I also know that it can be.
I haven’t felt threatened since that night. I think that whatever came for me had a brief window to get to me, and that Daniel helped me shut that window before it was too late. And whenever I feel unsure, I can just put an orange on the floor – it won’t roll away.
But I still worry, every now and then. Like last week, when my mother-in-law Lauren came to visit. We had a lovely dinner, a few drinks, and talked about her upcoming retirement. As she got up to use the bathroom, she almost tripped on the edge of the carpet. She knocked over half a glass of wine. As I hurried into the kitchen to get a paper towel, I could hear the glass rattle as it rolled across the floor.
“I’m sorry,” said Lauren. “This crooked floor takes some time getting used to.”