“Don’t you hear that?” my wife had asked me for the millionth time.
I let out a subtle grunt showcasing my minimal interest, I wanted to be clear to her that I was listening, my eyes remaining fixated on the television. She had always been the type to over analyze everything, anytime we were out in public she seemed to pick up on the small nuances of others drama; usually spreading misinformed gossip. Occasionally my frown of indifference would drop and I would act as if I were interested though, after being married for 20 years the charade had weaken and eventually I learned how to tune her out. Lately she had be going on about some rant of how the house is haunted, that it talks to her, she says she hears voices which at first made me laugh; I didn’t believe in ghost nor didn’t I really have faith in anything other than my own humanity but that all changed when I eventually heard it, the house talking.
We have lived out in the country side for the last decade, originally we were from the big city and raised our family there, but as my golden years approached with retirement among the horizon; we decided to leave the fast pace city life behind, moving out into the rural area for some peace quiet. The house we found was a marvel, it beautiful and spacious; Victorian bay windows peppered around the home. We fell in love with the property right away but more prodigious was the land itself, acres of tree line that endlessly lead into the forest, the scent of pine simmering in the air. At first I figured this place was out of my spending limit but to both of our delight it was actually under our shopping price, which left me a bit confounded — wondering how a gracious home could be set at such a weak market price — we quickly put a bid in and within the next few months we became the proud owners of this glorious country side residence. It felt a little like “Green Acres” if you ever seen that show, my wife was the embodiment of a city ‘gal’ — shopping at any in store for something new and if spending was ever a super power then she would of been considered SuperWoman. I myself use to be a loud mouth; a traffic tyrant, being in gridlock for over an hour would do such thing to the nicest of people; though I never meant in harm by it, but now the solace that my new home provided offered me harmony.
Years quickly passed and my once enthusiasm slowly dissolved to normality, for me the once enchanting home became a bit of a burden; it with its huge yard to maintain not to mention the constant repairs. At first it was fun feeling as if I was Tim Allen stopping all the creaks and groans of the house but after awhile it became daunting, after all this was suppose to be my golden years not my prime ones, so I just left the property to itself I figured if an issue ever did arise I would hire some repair man and that’s when I found the joy of just plopping down on my worn out recliner and staring aimlessly into the abyss of entertainment. My wife on the other hand was the opposite, with each passing month she only became more enamored with the home, taking pride in her garden, constantly cleaning and polishing the hardwood floors, it was as if she was caring for a person. At times I would catch her talking to the house while cleaning; carrying on a conversation with an invisible entity that took shape for the aging home, usually I just tuned her out but every once awhile my mind would sift through the gibberish and make out the words which would then cause me to frown.
“You like being cleaned don’t you” she would randomly tell the withered old house while softly polishing the floors, the stroking pattern she displayed presented more intimacy for this place than she ever had with me.
So eventually when she told me the house was talking back to her, I laughed it off to her losing a bit of her marbles; but I didn’t really care. I was done trying to maintain this home and I just wanted to rest while enjoying my television, my eternal clock was reaching it’s end and I didn’t want to indulge into her lunacy.
Something strange began to manifest itself in our day to day lives and that was my wife miraculously became very lucky, she came home one night with such a jovial energy telling me she won the jackpot at our local bingo night, I just grunted while sitting in my chair because the jackpot was only $50 bucks but I guess that would of been enough to cover my beer for the week. A few days later she won $500 in a scratch off, this caught my attention and as I celebrated with her with such glee she told me the most disturbing thing,
“The house told me to buy a ticket, it knows when it’s time to win”.
My face dropped with disdain, how could she say something so outlandish, I left her jumping for joy by herself as I returned to my own universe that was encapsulated by my chair. This became routine; her winning things and always attributing all the glory to the house, the more I would dismiss her claims the more defensive she was.
“I’ll prove it to you” my wife would tell me.
I would just raise an eyebrow with amusement, holding back the chuckle that was practically bursting through my gut.
“Patrick, tell my husband what you told me” she politely asked of the house.
“Patrick? You call the house Patrick? What the hell?” I scolded back with disgust.
“That’s it’s name, it told me I promise” she responded back just wanting me to believe her, but I wasn’t buying it and plus I really didn’t care I was tired of my wife's nonsense.
That’s when eventually I heard Patrick; or at least I heard the voices, it sounded like multiple and at first I didn’t believe what I was hearing; a jumble of gibberish flowing into one ear and out the other. Once hearing it was enough for me, I knew I was having some episode of sorts; my wife’s words reeking havoc on my mind and imagination. I first encountered the dreadful sound when I went to the bathroom, the house creaked and groaned as one might of expected; any old house would, but then out the blue I could vividly make out a noise and it was coming from the sink. It was faint but sharp, the sound tingling my ears, it was voices echoing through the drain. I paused for a moment as an expression of perplexity formed on my face, I tilted my head to one side directing my ear towards the drain and I crept my head closer.
‘pspspsspspspspspspspsppspsss…her’
I jumped back with utter astonishment, what the hell was I hearing. I nodded with bewilderment trying to brush off the encounter to nothing more than old pipes but those whispers only followed me, inundating my thoughts.
“So what does the house usually tell you?” I asked my wife much to her surprise.
A huge smile erupted on her face as the epiphany of me now believing her came to fruition.
“You heard it didn’t you? Patrick he finally spoke to you?” she asked me.
“No, just forget it! I just think you need help that’s all” I told her, trying to isolate myself off from her madness.
Though I couldn’t help myself, those voices wouldn’t go away and through much frustration I angrily stormed back to the bathroom sink like some lunatic and began arguing with the drain.
“Leave me alone, stop doing whatever you’re doing, do you hear me!” I shouted at the sink, treating it as if it was some telephone line.
I looked up to the mirror and saw my reflection, an old man with pure rage in his eyes stared back at me, it was clear then I was losing my mind.
“Come on, I’m I really talking to a drain” I told myself while I chuckled with a bit of relief.
But that’s when I heard it, like before it was muffled and my eyes widen with amazement. I then shut them tightly as if I were trying to hide from the house but my ears couldn’t stop listening; those whispers.
“Stop it!” I yelped out while sheltering my ears with my hands.
It didn’t matter; the sounds somehow still traveled into my mind like some digital transmission. It was hard to make out what it was telling me, there was just too many voices talking at the same time, I did my best to filter through the incoherent sounds but all I kept getting was “her”. I didn’t know what they meant by “her”.
“Who her? My wife? What about her?” I asked the drain.
The voices kept coming, conquering my thoughts, pulsating each fiber of my mind and I tried my best to focus, but the sounds soon turned into a thunderous roar and I fell to my knees gripping at my head as it throbbed.
“killlllll heerrrrrrr”
I heard it, it finally clear, digestible and my eyes shot open with absolute befuddlement, did the house just tell me what I thought it did, it wanted me to kill my wife. I shook my head aggressively understanding that this was insanity.
As the days passed I just sat in my chair like usual watching my television as my wife continued talking to the house while cleaning. I remained quiet and unmoved not wanting to alert my wife to my madness, because all I could ever hear were the whispers, it didn’t matter how loud I would turn up the T.V. or how long I would sleep, the constant murmurs invaded my thoughts.
“killlll herrrr, killllllll herrrrrr, killllllllll herrrrr”
Everyday was a struggle, I only slept but a mere few hours each night the only thing that ever helped was my chair, it was my constant; a firm grasp that transitioned from my old life to the new one and I felt calm whenever sitting in it. Eventually I caught myself repeating the words throughout the day as if I were humming some old tune; one too catchy to forget.
“What’s that dear?” my wife would tend to ask, I‘ll just smile and ignore her while continuing my rhythm.
I kept the houses demands at bay, knowing it was only in my mind and it soon became a part of my day, heading over to the bathroom just to hear them repeating their constant chants. I tried asking why they wanted me to do it, my wife was annoying sure, but not worthy of dying, of course I never got an answer. My wife’s lucky streak continued, whoever this Patrick was didn’t relent, she won more money in different ways with each passing week. Then came the day that she did the unthinkable, well, at least it was to me; she got rid of my chair. She had won the big one a jackpot about 10 grand and she took it upon herself to redecorate this abysmal home. My anger in the moment was beyond comprehension, I honestly felt like punching her in the mouth, the cries coming from the drain only making more sense to me; this woman was out to destroy me. There was no more sheltering from the noises, it was all too overwhelming, amplified pulses of the unknown targeting my hearing. By this time my wife no longer resembled any fiber of the woman that I had married, her obsession with this home was unbecoming not to mention whomever this Patrick was.
I stormed out of the house, I drove to the end of our driveway, sweat slipping down my face as my rage seem to be soaking out of my pores. I didn’t know what to do, I was too old to start over, move to some small apartment only to die of a heart attack a week later. Maybe I was over exaggerating, it was just a chair after all, she had always been good at pushing me out of my comfort zone when we were younger; perhaps I’ve just grown too grumpy. Soon the sweat that poor off my face felt more salty than before as the slithers of wet bodily fluid collided unto my lips and I realized it was tears; I was crying disturbed at my own dilemma and I decided there was no where to go. I had spent my life savings on this home, I had to make it work, maybe I just needed to give her more attention. I slowly returned the car back into the car port, turning off the engine and taking a deep breath before returning back inside the home. I was going to talk to my wife and let her now how I felt about this weird fixation she had with the home and with Patrick.
Stepping inside the house I saw that all the lights were off and the usual voices that plagued my mind were gone, stillness enveloped every corner of the home leaving me bewildered. I called out to my wife but got no answer, I walked into the living room, I then picked up on an odd smell, I reached over to the light switch and turned it on. That’s when I saw the pantry door that was between our kitchen and the living room was wide open. I walked over cautiously feeling nerved, butterflies fluttered around in the empty cavity that I called my stomach and the closer that I got that dread only grew. As I positioned my body in front of the pantry the usual was there, can goods and boxes of crackers but to my astonishment behind the shelves and food was another door; one that was also open. I had never seen this door before and what lay on the other side was beyond imaginable, it was dark, an absolute void protruding from the emptiness. I called out for my wife again but still no answer, nothing but silence, I stood in front of pantry befuddled of what to think but more importantly what to do; did my wife find the door and fall behind — maybe she was hurt. Though that didn’t explain why the shelves still blocked the entrance, either way I decided to move aside the shelves to step inside. I nervously pushed away the cans, the boxes, all hitting the floor with a heavy thud and I then slowly removed the shelves; enough of them for me to slip inside.
I went over to one of the kitchen cupboards to pull out a flash light, I then headed back to the pantry door, I shined it inside and saw nothing, just continued darkness. What ever was inside was firmly sheltered from my eyes, I had enough, I was too frighten, I decided to step away but then heard it, a voice coming from the beyond it was my wife's voice. It was faint, muffled it sounded very similar to the whispers that had been coming from the drain.
“Hello?” I cowardly whimpered out, still shining the flashlight inside.
The voice got a little bit louder, the words still hard to make out and I pushed my head closer to the abyss.
“Hello?” I said once again.
My face was mere inches away from the darkness, the voice gradually making it’s way through the sludge of emptiness and finally I could make it out, it was my wife clear as day and I gulped heavy with fear now knowing what she was saying,
“That person is not me, you need to kill her”.
In that very same moment foot steps came from behind me and I turned quickly to see it was my wife, her eyes glazed over with death itself, a devilish grin stretching across her face and before my mind could fully comprehend what was happening she pushed me into the darkness.
I fell for what felt like an eternity, my body never crashing hard on to some bottom floor; instead my body began to float endlessly into the void. There were other voices in the darkness with me, voices that sounded like the whispers from the drain but now they were a lot more vivid; I was now with them. My wife was in here with me, she told me she found this door months ago, that she had try to tell me about it but I wouldn’t listen, that something had trapped her inside of this place. She could hear me anytime I was in the restroom, she told me she tried calling out to me, she wanted to warn me that whoever was out there wearing her face was not her but some thing that called itself Patrick.
We have been stuck here in this realm of nothingness for I don’t know how long, maybe days or perhaps years, time seems to be irrelevant there are others that had told me they use to be the owners of the home, that they too had been trapped here and always they have called out for help. There are new owners to the home, we can hear them anytime they enter the restroom, we all yell out for help, trying to get their attentions but it never works. We don’t know what happen to my wife's body, perhaps that thing Patrick had already left it, but whatever the case if you ever hear whispers coming from the drain do your best to listen.
Thanks for reading! :)
Copyright Adan Mendez (all rights reserved)
