The Room

A short story I wrote for college, sort of a prequel tale to my novella.

The Room by Shannon Milligan

 

With its decrepit exterior and unwelcoming hallways, most people entering the Connelly house wondered how its sole occupant Jack could live there alone. On the outskirts of a small village, a solid five minute walk to the nearest home, the house didn't receive many people passing by, save the few dog owners on route to the woods. With his preference for solitude, this lifestyle suited Jack well, up keeping the home and occasionally performing DIY tasks for the villagers.

 

Until the shadows started moving.

 

The onset was gradual at first. Seeing something out of the corner of his eye only to turn and see nothing but dry plaster, brushing it off as his exhaustion manifesting in imagined sights. But, his insomnia wasn't due to pressing thoughts or any medical condition but the relatively consistent noise from the wall behind his bed. He had delayed his investigation of the screeching noise, convincing himself it was naught but the friction caused by the pipes, but after the fifth consecutive night of only being able to snatch an hour's worth of sleep, he decided it was high time to investigate.

 

A carpenter from the next town arrived to break down the wall, only to discover there was another room situated within the wall. It was spacious for a group of six to fit comfortably, though as intriguing as the discovery of the room was, there was still a question that begged answering.

 

Where was the noise coming from?

 

He half expected upon discovery of the room that there would be someone taking residence there, perhaps someone destitute and wanting to avoid the unforgiving streets but, as though the room repelled intruders, there was not even a rat or spider claiming the space.

 

So the carpenter had departed, and Jack had given no more thought to the room, besides the odd occasion he wondered if he could use it as some sort of storage space. But since he had first urged the carpenter to strike the wall with his hammer, the visions of the shadow from the corner of his eye had accelerated, the screeching amplifying in volume so that, no matter what room he occupied, the sound resonated through his mind.

 

With this his paranoia had also taken an upturn, and it had soon become obvious to whoever visited Jack that something was disturbing the man, that he seemed haunted by something none but himself could hear. The worst occurred when his brother had visited, and Jack had acted so erratically, a sweat breaking out upon his brow and his entire body shaking as though in fit, his brother had carefully hinted at bringing in some sort of ecclesiastical figure; perhaps a priest? Jack had only stared at him, his silence spanning a lifetime before he had rose to his feet, shouting and screaming, spittle flying from his lips as he demanded that his brother left.

 

His brother hadn't made contact since.

 

That had been three weeks ago, and now Jack had installed a shelf and stocked the room with a variety of weapons; a shovel, a kitchen knife and a rusted hunting gun.

 

Sprawled at the foot of his bed having fallen asleep to remedy his fatigue, Jack bolted upright to the sound of his name tearing through the house in a high-pitched scream, sourcing from the room. Fear coiled in his abdomen, causing his breath to exhale raggedly as he picked up a small figurine to hold aloft as a makeshift weapon.

 

Entering the room with trepidation, his fear was a sharp metallic taste in his mouth, his heart thrumming harshly against his ribcage as though wishing to break free of its confines. Excluding himself the room seemed devoid of life, though there was a tear on the wall, about three feet deep and shaped as though a claw had torn through the dry plaster. Tracing his fingertips across the gash, his vision was too concentrated to realize there was something cold against the back of his neck, causing the hairs there to rise unbidden. When he did realise, he started to turn, only to find himself thrown forward against the wall he had been examining, feeling a searing pain as he landed on his back. Raising a hand, he felt the sticky wetness of his temple, eyes casting around with a wild furtiveness as he attempted to scramble backwards, only for his back to collide with another wall.

 

Reaching upwards to grab a weapon from the shelf he instigated another otherworldly screech, so high-pitched in volume he felt his eardrums shatter, drawing a yell tumbling from his own lips. The shelf above him shook with vigour, before tumbling downwards, crashing not an inch from where he was cowered against the wall, ears straining to attempt to hear anything. He hadn't heard the crash, nor could he hear his experimental babbling and   

 

But he did hear the screeching again and although he registered himself emitting a sharp yelp of fear, he couldn't hear the sound of his own hoarse voice.

 

One hand attempting to stem the flow of blood from his temple, which was still freely gushing, he directed himself onto fours, leveraging himself to carry his weight on his free arm, awkwardly shuffling towards the door. Again, he felt the icy cold, as though Jack Frost was breathing harshly against the back of his neck. He removed his bloodstained hand to lash out, feeling a pulse of fear rush through him when his hand connected with something and he heard the screech again.

 

Slamming the door shut behind him, his exhausted form collapsed against it, pressuring it shut with his back as he attempted to recover his breath, but mere seconds after he had escaped the room he felt something pounding against it, before the otherworldly shrieking commenced once more.

 

One hand still clutched to his temple, fingertips cemented in blood, he forced his worn legs to run, fleeing the house as swiftly as his shattered form would allow. Onwards he pushed himself down the road towards the village, through the burning of his lungs and the feeling that his legs would buckle beneath him at any moment. He caught sight of the first house, the lights seeming to burn his irises, but it was his brother he sought, who lived in the third house down with his fiancé. 

 

Expelling breath in short bursts; his knuckles assaulted the doorframe, though it felt as though he were merely mouthing the words that came out in broken, panted wheezing. Moments later, the door opened to reveal his brother, wearing a bedhead and looking rather like he wanted to send his brother six feet under.

 

"You better have a damn good reason for waking me up at this time, Jack."

 

As Jack stumbled forward a step to the porch, the light highlighting how drained of colour he was, and the blood pooled around his forehead, his brother retreated a step, jaw slackening as his eyes widened. "Jack? Jack. Jack, what happened?"

 

Jack's lips moved rapidly, forming an incoherent stream of words as his head shook erratically with such force it surprised him his spine didn't sever.

 

"Danny...You...It's in the room Danny, you have to...I can't...Why can't I hear?"

 

Danny rested a hand on Jack's upper arm, calling something to his fiancé that Jack didn't catch, though he did re-enter the house momentarily, before returning with a hilted blade.

 

"Come on Jackie," Danny urged, with some attempt of reassurance by using his brother's loathed childhood nickname, "Everything's gonna be alright, probably just a cat or something, yeah? We gotta take you to the doctor's though man; you got some nasty cut on your head."

 

Jack had been gazing blankly at Daniel's lips to judge what he was saying but making out the word doctor he jerked from his grip with a rough exclamation, chest heaving as he pointed vaguely in the direction of the house, jabbing repeatedly in the air for emphasis.

 

"No! We...get rid of it. It's gonna leave the room, and it's gonna...-"

 

"Nothing's gonna hurt you, not while I'm around." He spoke firmly, with the know-it-all assurance of an elder sibling, calling back for his fiancé to call an ambulance.

 

Sitting in the vehicle, the air weighed heavy with silence around them, interrupted only by the shrill of the alarm and steady beeping of the machine. Danny was seated hunched beside his brother, fingers twisted together almost painfully as he thought of what could have scared Jack such so.

 

The second the thought formed in his mind, Jack's hand wrapped around his wrist, shaking with limited strength in order to gain his attention. His eyes, a tempestuous grey and blue focused entirely on him causing him to shift slightly in the seat, the age-old concern warring with his building concern.

 

"What's up, Jack? We're nearly there."

 

"You have to promise me never to go to the house." Jack spoke in a strained voice, attempting to bring himself into a seated position, but the paramedic stepped forward, pressing his hands against his shoulders.

 

"Sir I need you to si-"

 

The words had barely left his lips, his touch barely implementing upon Jack, but he reacted erratically anyway, thrashing away with a strength that, despite his injured person, toppled the unfortunate man. Staring dumbly in a strange reverie of shock and horror, Jack took the opportunity to grab the fabric of Danny's t-shirt to regain his attention.

 

"Promise me Dan, you have to promise!"

 

"Jesus Christ, fine I promise!"

 

Jack seemed contented by the answer, mumbling a swift apology to the haggard looking paramedic, before laying back once more.

 

He didn't speak another word, but the doctors informed Danny that his brother was lucky, but should pull through.

 

Whilst he exited the hospital, h recalled briefly his Father's rumbling voice, divulging the tale of how his great grandfather had apparently had returned from the military to find a homeless man occupying the house. They had argued and eventually sparred, and before he knew it, the man was lying dead at his feet, and, not wanting to jeopardize his career prospects, he buried the man under the floorboards of the spare room before replacing the wall and removing the door in the hopes that no-one would discover his grievous err. Danny could recall with a vivid intensity the anxiousness that had felt, not dispelled in the least by his Father's amused reassurance that the story was most likely a myth. Danny had then proceeded to convince Jack to switch rooms with him- since his was the one closet to where the body had allegedly been buried- without telling him the logic behind his decision.

 

Was there more validity to the story than Danny or his Father had realized? Regardless of the story, he had decided that, upon his release from hospital, Jack was going to move in with him and his fiancé and he was going to organize the destruction of the house himself.

 

But until then...

 

Curiosity was burning through him like flames through topiary, his promise to Jack was prominent in his conscious mind as he worked his lower lip, weighing the decision in his mind. If it had been an intruder, surely he should check and recover the most important of Jack's possessions? And well, whilst he was there he may as well check the fabled room, shouldn't he?

 

Concluding his moral dilemma, Danny switched directions towards Jack's home, resolving only to linger as long as required.

 

Beside the smudges of congealed blood glaring at him from seemingly random points through the house, and dislodged furniture, nothing seemed remiss, at least from his first impressions. After clearing every room, he stood facing the broken down wall in the master bedroom, the very room that had plagued his waking and sleeping thoughts for a week after hearing the story, however intrigue still claimed him within it's vice.

 

Hell Danny, you're twenty five, not six years old any more. Be a man. You want your kid to have a Dad still scared of bullshit stories?

 

Resolute, he stepped into the room, the silence making the thud of his heartbeat more discernible, the creak of wood as he moved making him wince.

 

Not exactly James Bond.

 

Sighting the abandoned weapons caused his heart to thud even more persistently, as though it were trying to break from the confines of his ribcage. Was this how paranoid Jack had become; stooping to stocking his house like this was Saw?

 

Having crouched to examine the weapons, he found his fingertips ghosting the floorboards, stopping occasionally to rap against the wood. Most of what he found was hollowed, until he reached the middle of the room and he recoiled at once, landing unceremoniously on his back with a scream.

 

Knock. Knock. Knock.

 

Danny scrambled to his feet and practically flung himself towards the exit, but the wall was no longer broken but completely sealed, not yielding even to his frequent pounding fists.

 

Knock. Knock. Knock.

 

It was closer now, and he was frenziedly hammering at the door, tearing his vocal chords as he screamed.

 

Knock. Knock. Knock.

 

There was resounding silence for a split second, during which the thumping of his heart was audible.

 

Before the sound of footsteps behind him shattered the silence.

Author's Note

I'm not entirely sure if it works without the context of the novella to be honest, so any feedback would be great.

Reviews

[carynolivia]

Love it, Shannon! I think you built the tension and suspense up really well. I'm curious to know more about the presence in the house and its motivations. It was a bit tough to decipher the characterisations of Jack and Danny since their was little in the way of exposition on them but I'm liking Danny's protective side when it comes to his brother!

There's a couple of grammar and spelling bits you should check out: near the beginning, you talk about dog owners being en route - you've spelled it as on route instead; the end of the 13th paragraph finishes with 'and' and nothing else - not sure what was meant to be there; and you've capitalised father 3 times when Danny's reminiscing about his dad telling him about his great grandfather and the homeless man - this isn't necessary since he's not addressing him directly so it's not a noun. There were a couple of other things but I can't find them anymore, goddamnit.

But other than those, it reads really well! Looking forward to (hopefully) reading the whole thing at some point!