Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.
I groan and roll over in bed. I’d just started drifting off
to sleep when the noise started.
Damn it. I thought that the house behind ours wasn’t being
rented right now. It’s the perils of living in back to back terrace houses with
very thin walls. Noisy neighbors become the bane of your existence.
Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.
They must be doing some kind of DIY project from the sound
of it. But why on earth are they doing it at 12 am! They must be finishing soon
though? Surely? I eventually manage to
drop off to sleep in spite of the rhythmic bangs coming from next door.
I wake in the morning to bright sunshine and thankfully not
a sound from my new neighbors. I tiredly get dressed and go to work. Glad
their DIY antics seem to be over.
But the next night the same thing happens again!
Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.
It might be my imagination, but it seems like it’s getting
louder! I glance at the clock, and its 12 am! Ridiculous! I can’t keep putting
up with this.
I decide to go over and talk to them, explain how noisy they
are being and hopefully they will be understanding.
I go over and bang on the door. But everything is suddenly
silent in their house. No more thumping.
And there are no lights on. The property looks empty. I bang on the door
again. Standing in the dark street in pyjamas and hastily put on shoes. And
suddenly I get the feeling I am being watched. It’s a cold creeping feeling of
hairs on the back of my neck standing up. The silence suddenly doesn’t sound
empty. It is a silence that sounds like someone listening.
I hurry back home. Back to the comfort of my own room and
bed and lie under the covers shivering, but at least it’s quiet at last.
Until...
Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.
The next morning I call the councils noise complaint line.
They are very helpful when I explain the situation. They
tell me they are sending a letter to the tenant and landlord, that I need to
keep a written record of what the noises are and when, and that if it happens
again tonight to call the night time noise complaint number and someone will
come over and have a talk to them.
I breathe a sigh of relief. It feels a bit mean bringing the
council into this, but I just don’t want more nights of little to no sleep. And
this should fix the problem. But I still feel a knot of anxiety in my stomach
as it gets towards bed time.
I’m not even really trying to sleep this time, Even though
I’m past exhausted from two nights of virtually no sleep. I’m just lying awake watching the clock tick
towards midnight.
11:45
11:46
11:47
Still no sound, not even a whisper from next door. Maybe it
won’t happen tonight. Maybe its all over.
11:48
11:49
My heart is in my mouth.
12:00...
For one blissful second I think I’m safe. Then...
Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.
I immediately pick up my phone and dial the noise complaint
number. Then sit listening to the noise coming through my wall in the dark of
the night.
Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.
Like a metronome, loud and insistent. Like a nail being driven into my skull, that
goes on and on.
Then suddenly, silence. The thumping stops out of nowhere.
And I hear a knock on my door.
The knock makes me jump. It’s abrupt and surprising.
Rat-a-tat-tat.
But it’s only the men from the council. They ask about the
noise, wonder what the problem is. I try to explain, but the silence in my home
mocks my words.
But they offer to go next door and have a look. They return
10 minutes later and report that the house is dark and empty looking. No
lights, no sound. No thumping. But more than that, they managed to contact the
landlord, who confirmed that the house in question is currently uninhabited.
They gently inform me that the landlord had in fact been to visit the property
this very day and that he said that though there was some evidence of damage
having been done to the property, suggesting maybe a vandal had broken in, but
no evidence of a squatter. And as there is no evidence or sound of them right
now, the house must be empty.
I beg the men, ask them to hang around. That the loud
thumping noise was bound to begin again, they just needed to wait.
The men did what I asked. They waited with me quietly,
waiting for the noise to start again. They were patient and kind to me. But as
the minutes ticked on, no sound at all came through the walls. And they started
to look impatient, glancing at their watches and checking their phones. Eventually we all gave up on hearing the
sound and they left.
Of course as soon as they had gone and I climbed in to bed,
almost numb with tiredness, it began again.
Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.
I managed to eventually sleep, with the sound invading my
dreams, I dream of a monster creeping out of the darkness, but the only thing I
can hear is its drum like heart beat.
The next day I take off work. The sound has gone with the
dawn, but I am still so tired I can barely keep my eyes open, and I don’t think
I will be able to concentrate enough to get anything productive done.
I am determined if...when the noise starts again, I’m going
to go over there, break down the door if I have to, anything to get it to stop.
I feel like I am living in the middle of a nightmare that I can’t wake up from.
I want the intrusion into my house and my life to stop, I want to stop the
feeling of fear and anxiety, that seems to be growing, to go away, even if it
means breaking the law.
I don’t even bother to get into pyjamas tonight. I just sit
on my bed and wait for 12 am to come. Wait for the thumping sound to start
again.
Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.
I flinch. And my face grows pale. But I am determined.
For the first time I notice that it is actually noisiest in
my bedroom. It seems to be actually coming through the wall. I shudder and try
to put that thought right out of my head.
I leave my house, and immediately the noise stops again. A
dead silence. How do they even know I’m coming over? Are they listening to my
every move? Why would they do that? It makes no sense. None of this makes any
sense.
It’s only a handful of steps and then I am in front of their
door again. I take a deep breath and then knock.
Nothing.
I knock louder. Loud enough anyone inside should surely have
heard.
Again the quality of the silence takes on a different feel.
It feels like there is someone waiting for me on the other side of the door, A
malevolent thing listening to my scared breathing.
I turn the light on my phone on and try the door. To my
immense shock and surprise, it swings open, with a drawn out creak. Its pitch
black inside, and cold, but I screw up my courage and step inside. It isn’t
carpeted, so my footsteps sound incredibly loud on the bare floor. The landlord
was right, this place is empty, there is no furniture, no carpets, the heating
feels like it’s not been on in a while as my breath is steaming the air.
I start to walk around, pausing before each door before
swinging it open, I keep shining my light around, Piercing the darkness,
expecting someone or something to come jumping out at me, Feeling like the first
victim in a horror movie, still feeling the invisible eyes drilling into me.
The kitchen and living room are both still and silent and
empty, a layer of dust lies on all the surfaces. Not even the movement of a rat
or spider breaks the silence, just my footsteps echoing in the empty rooms.
I make my way upstairs, the silence and darkness are getting
to me, I’m starting to wish I had just stayed at home and bought some really
good ear plugs.
The bathroom is small, like mine, in fact this house is
pretty much the mirror image of mine, the same lay out, just the other way
round.
Only two rooms to go, one smaller bedroom, and the master
bedroom.
I pause for a second, because I think I catch the sound of
movement, someone stealthily moving in this pitch black house. I can feel my
own heart thudding in my chest, and my breathing sounds impossibly loud.
I gently push open the smaller bedroom door, but again,
everything is empty, there isn’t even a closet to hide in. Nothing but bare
floor boards and dust.
I’m now almost sick from tension. Only one room left to look
into, the master bedroom, the room that is exactly behind my own.
I slam the door open.
For a second I don’t really understand what I am seeing,
this room is bare like all the others, but there’s something else too, something
that shines when the light catches it.
I step closer. Trying to see. Trying to understand.
Then suddenly I do. Suddenly I know exactly what the noise
has been this whole time.
The shining thing is a knife sticking from the wall, long
and wicked looking, the wall itself has been badly damaged. Big chunks gouged
out of it, stabbed out of it. That was the sound, the sound of a knife stabbing
into a wall over and over and over.
My gorge rises as I realise that even though the wall between
this room and my room is stone and solidly built, the impact of the knife has
stripped away plaster board and dug into the stone, dug so far through in fact
that the spot the knife is sticking into now has finally pierced all the way
through.
I tug the knife free and kneel down, the hole is only just
big enough to look through, but it’s enough to see...to see my pillow, where I
lay my head every night.
Suddenly I am so sure, so very sure that something is behind
me, about to grab me. I spin around but nothing is there. I can hear nothing
over the sound of my panicked breathing. I trip and the knife clatters from my
hand and scatters off into the darkness. I freeze for a moment, like a rabbit
in the headlights. Waiting for the blow to fall on me.
But nothing happens.
And then I am free from my fear induced paralysis and I’m
running and skidding, tripping and falling out of the room, down the stairs,
out of the front door. Feeling like something is on my heels the whole time.
I make it to the main road. I have my phone and my wallet in
my pocket. I call a cab. There is no way I am going back to my house now. I
will call the police in the morning, explain everything. I’m not doing it
tonight. It’s just too much. I’ll sleep at a hotel, away from the noise and the
fear. I’ll feel better in the morning.
I hardly remember the journey in the taxi, or booking into
the closest hotel the taxi driver knows will still let me in. I think I make up
a story about a burst pipe and a flooded house. No one questions me.
And finally I am in a nice clean anonymous hotel bedroom. I
feel such relief. Its quiet and warm and peaceful. I feel safe here. Normal.
Back to my old self. I just need a good night’s sleep.
I strip off my clothes and fall into the bed, the energy of
fear draining away suddenly and leaving me feeling groggy and relaxed.
It’s dark and warm and safe.
I breathe deeply, drifting...drifting down into the dark...
Until suddenly the silence is shattered along with any
feeling of safety.
Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.
What on earth do I do now?
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