Forgotten House (Part 3)

Part One
Part Two

Audio Recording

I was on lunch break, taking a bite out of a ham sandwich I had prepared early that morning. Business was slow at the computer store this time of the afternoon, and I stared out a window onto an empty two-lane road. The store was on the outside of town, at the border of shopping and residential areas. Look to the right and I would barely see a small, blue, two-story house, the driveway empty at this early point in the afternoon. Look to the left and I’d see the road split in two, stop signs sprouting from the barren dirt. One road would lead to some small office buildings, the other would lead to a gas station, a grocery store, and continue on past the local, brown-brick post office.

I had half an hour for my lunch break. The police department was a quick five-minute walk down one of those roads. I went over what I was planning on telling the police, from my adventure through that old house.

The more I thought about it, the more absurd it sounded. So I had entered that house, found a door in the basement that led even farther underground, which in turn led me to a door that went deeper underground. The hallways terminated in a vast chamber containing only one other door, which, when opened, released some manner of creature that I neither saw or heard, yet knew had escaped. I shook my head, knowing they’d never believe me. Yet I had to tell them, right? Even if the story made no sense.

I finished my sandwich, and took another sip from my soda as I stood from my desk. I had a couple computers to work on, each with a simple problem. One computer just desparately needed a reformat and OS reinstall, the other was an old iBook that some student had purchased from their University’s surplus sale (meaning the computer lacked a hard drive).

Moving quickly, I checked my pockets for my keys. Assured they were there, I slipped out of my office, and went for the front door of the shop. The place was just as empty as I assumed it was, so I stepped outside. A lone, black car slowed to a brief stop at the nearby stop sign before heading down the same road I was about to walk along. Besides that, there was silence.

The police department occupied a rather large two story brick building, with two black, steel-framed doors set on the front. The glass within the doors was rather heavily tinted, but signage indicating the building worked just as effectively as a barrier to eyes.

I pulled a door open, and stepped inside. Silence greeted me, as my eyes adjusted to the light within the building. “Hello?” I called out. “Anyone in here?”

I stood in a dimly lit lobby, blue plastic chairs lining the white walls. A receptionist’s window stood open and empty opposite the main entrance. I crossed the floor to that window, and looked within, just in time to notice someone vanish behind a bookshelf, its individual shelves crammed with manilla folders and loosely bound notebooks. There was a silver desk bell secured to the counter before me, so I tapped it a couple times, its shrill ringing echoing around the place.

No one responded; the person I’d barely seen didn’t return. Shrugging, I rang the bell once more, and walked over to one of the chairs.

Minutes passed, with no response. I sat, I waited. My lunch break was nearly over by this point, and I needed to report back to the computer shop. I was about to leave when it happened. It was a single scream, a woman by the sound of it, high-pitched and terrified. The scream was cut short, and silence fell back in place, a curtain returning to rest.

The front door of the place burst open, two officers rushing in, neither noticing me as I sat there, afraid and confused. The first officer unlocked a door near the receptionist’s window, and went further within the building, the other following. I ran over to the window, and looked in. The officers were huddled over a woman’s body, collapsed and twisted on the cold tile floor. One officer was well in the way, but I could see enough of the wounds to want to run away that very moment. Two clean lines ran parallel down the sides of her chest, from her shoulders to her waist, with anothe two lines running parallel from one shoulder to the other, and from one side of her waist to another. The entire surface area of her chest, her clothes, had been removed, exposing the organs within. Blood pooled neatly alongside her body.

The only other thing I noticed was a single black feather nestled in one patch of blood.

I made my way to the door, not noticing the third officer who stood there, watching me calmly. I nearly bumped into him, but noticed him just in time.

“Son, stay where you are,” he commanded, his voice heavy and calm, his eyes cold and fierce. “What just happened here?”

I shook my head. “I came here to report something that might help with solving that string of murders recently. No one was coming to the window. I–I don’t know. I just–what the hell?”

“No, you couldn’t have done that, could you? Locked door. It just happened and you’re too clean. Go. We’ll talk about what you had in mind later.”

I was out of there, too eager to return to work at that point.

“You’ve got some mail,” my coworker, Geoff, announced, as he handed me an envolope. My eyes went wide for a brief moment. I rarely get mail at work. I took the envelope, and looked it over. It was an air-mail envelope, bordered in short, diagonal stripes of red and blue, and there was no return address, only my mailing address at work. The envelope felt rather thick.

I sat down at my desk, and, after carefully opening the envelope, I extracted a neatly folded bundle of papers. Two pictures slipped out, and landed facedown on my desk. I ignored those, and went straight for the papers. The first was a rather short note, and read as follows (I’ve omitted my name from the text):

Dearest XXXXXXX,

I watched as you walked those hallways of my house, as you climbed down to the basement, where I lurk. You didn’t see me.

You went deeper into the house than I’ve ever dared, even though I reside where I do. You delved to the realm of the voices, of the screams, of the silence. Oh the silence, more terrifying than those pained voices.

The greater demons elsewhere in Hell are such that not even I know.

I’m sorry for what you’re going through.

Signed,
Melissa (residing in Hell)

I shoved the papers and pictures into the envelope, the rest of the contents unseen. I’d look through them later. Instead, as a customer walked in, I shoved all thoughts of the letter away into my mind. I’d look through them later, I told myself.

(continued in Part Four)