Looking through the window the four year old lay on his bed. He could see the night sky speckled with stars. Listening to the wind rattle the old glass in the window frame his eyes searched around the window for where he could hear the wind whistle through. Slowly from the window his eye scanned across the walls of his darkened bedroom. As the closet crossed his mind his eyes darted to it, after staring at the door for quite awhile he resumed looking around the room. Hours seemed to pass as he tried to drift off to sleep. Voices and music came from the TV down the stairs. Still picturing his parents sitting on the couch next to each other in the livingroom at the bottom of the stairs, after they tucked him in. Holding his eyes closed he felt as if he was being watched. He no longer could stand it and the eyes opened again now he was drawn to a tall mirror bolted to the wall beside his bed. Blackness seemed to eminate from the glass, but he couldn't stop staring at the mirror, untill something seemed to move above him. Pulling the covers over his head he hid for a very long time, but finally he had to look. Walls in the half story room bent over him at a strange angle then bent again ito the ceiling. It being hard to focus on the grave like texture of the wall in the darkhis eyes fixed on a spot. suddenly it shivered like heat rising from a highway. The bed squeeked then thrumped as he jumped out and ran down the stairs.
"Mommy! Daddy!" he sceamed as he ran down the stairs grasping the railing hand over hand on the way. His dad was waiting at the bottom of the stairs.
"Whats wrong buddy"
"The Wall moved! It shaked."
"It was just a dream." hIs dad said. "Come on, we go look." By now his mom was standing with them. Mom and Dad smiled at each other. Dad picked him up into his arms and turned on the light then carried him up the stairs.
"The wall wiggled."
"It was just a dream. It's OK." his mom said as they reach the bed.
"But...but the wall?" he tried to tell them.
"OK buddy where at? where did you see the the wall move?" his dad said as he smile at his mom. They both were smiling and the boy knew they didn't believe him.
"There! Right there." He pointed at the wall above his bed. His dad pointed then touched the spot.
" You see it's solid. Come on you feel it now." and he did it was hard and rough. "Your OK now?"
"OK nighty night, sleep tight."then his parents took turns kissing him on the forehead before they went down the stairs and turned off the light. He reached up and felt the wall again it was hard. Slowly his eyes closed as he drifted off to sleep. Morning light filled the room as he woke up in the morning. Days and nights passed the walls didn't moved again it was alway solid. Years past and now he was six years old and now that night was long forgotten.
Looking into the mirror and watchedpieringthrough the mirrors darknesswhile he scratched his head. Mirrors always made him feel uncomfortable as far back as he could remember and now he finally understood. Mirrors seem to have a darkness to them even though the reflect and amplify light into the room they occupy. Staring at his reflection there almost was something he could feel something looking at him,a presencebeyond the surface. Cupping his hands to the sides of his face he press against the glass to see into the darkness. Nothing always nothing, he had looked hundreds of times, it was always the same. Behind him the sun filled the room from theworld from outside the window and that is where he was going.
Running down the stairs hand over hand he grabbed the hand rail until he hit the bottom. Racing through the livingroom he made a hard right turn into the kitchen andthen through it. Next came the door to the backporch. Through the porch and down the stairs with doors slamming behind him ashe ran into the backyard. Before him was a world of his own imagination filled with a grassy lawn, trees, flower garden, bushes and his grandmas cottage on the half lot beside of his house, which he could transform into anything into anything he could think of. Today he was a pirate looking for his ship or no, maybe an astronaut. The spring air smelled fresh of cut grass and flowers as he seached the alien planet. Inside the house him mom was cooking breakfast.
"hey spaceman you're breakfast is ready" she called out the door. Suddenly he was back in his own yard, and now he was hungry.
"I'm coming." he yelled as he ran to the house. he could smell scrambled eggs and potato cakes at least he hoped, because they had left over mash potatoes from last nights supper. Upon entering the kitchen he was right and hot chocolate, toast and orange juice. Breakfast came and went as did the day and soon he was in for the evening. He played a game of checker with his Dad then one with his Mom then they watched TV until bed time.
The feel of swet running across his back woke the boy up from a sound sleep on that hot August night. The air from the open window brought more humidity than relief. The screen kept out swarms of mosquitos of the house,yet thesound of crickets filled the air. The boy rolled onto his back and staired at the ceiling and four walls. His every breath labored in the heat. As he staired at the ceiling, the house was silent except from sounds from outside. Crickets chirps filled his mind while he stared upward. In the rooms dim light of the moon liting the textured ceilingand wallthat hung above him. as the heat seemed to make the texture dance. He closed his eyes and sighed trying to get back to sleep. A cool breeze began to flow across his face and he opened his eyes to see the ceiling move. Reaching up he felt the the roughness.
The hardness of the texture started to yeld into semi solid, then all a sudden his fingers pushed into the ceiling like cold modeling clay. With a jerk he retracted away from the spot and jumped out of bed. Running across the room he turned on the light, as he didhethought for a second the mirror turned like a window with someone standing on the other side, or maybe it was imagination. He turned to look strait at it, but all that was there was his image looking back from the mirror. Turning back to his bed and the ceiling above it. Everything looked normal. Walking slowly to the spot he reached up. Hard and solid again was all the boy could feel. It must of been a dream he told himself as he went down the stairs touching the walls all the was.
He grabbed a picher then filled a glass with cold coolaid. "What's the matter?" came a voice from behind him. "Bad dream?" asked his Dad.
"Yeh: the ceiling changed. I could push... through it with my fingers"
" It's probably some bad plaster I'll fix itin the morning." answered his Dad.
"No. It's OK. Must of been a dream or something." said the boy as he finished his drink. Doughting his own sences he headed back to bed. After touching all the walls and ceiling and even checking the closet he turned off the light and went to bed.
Morning came again the weeks went by but still nothing seemed to happen. Months past, one after another until it was Autumn. The ground outside was covered with a veil of gold, yellow and orange leaves, then one day of checking the walls he stood and stared at one spot on one of the wall for over an hour trying to forced it to change with his mind,it looked like heat rising off a highway but it was the wall and/or ceiling. As he watched it seemed to keep changing until it looked like water shimmering in front of him. The boy closed his eyes tight then reopened them, and when they opened everything was normal again. "It must be my eyes." he said to himself as he reached out to the wall. With open hand he lay his palm against the wall. Suddenly uypon contact his hand went through the like pushing into coldwater. Ripples eminated from the point of contact with his hand. Bone chilling cold at first touch on his hand then arm from the wall, but then his hand was through it he could feel a cool breeze. He jumped back in shock, then stepped away from the wall and just stared for a few moments. "Dad!" he screamed.
"WHAT!" responded the boys Dad with irratation in his voice.
"Come here!" the boy yelled. His Dad came up the stairs looking a bit angry then opened his hands palms up saying "What."
"Feel the wall. Right there." he pointed, with the shake of the head dad did. Thump thump his fists pounded against the wall, but nothing gave.
"So, what is your problem?" snarled Dad. "The ballgame is on." once again he was gesturing with his hands.
"nothing." wimpered the boy in astonishment and disbelief rubbing the wall with his hands. It was just as solid as ever.
Two years past and one day the eight year old boy put his hand against the wall where his bed onceused be to bend down and pick up his basketball of the floor. The wall gave, the boys head lifted to look as he stood. It shimmered and rippled to his touch. Pushing with the right hand then the left through the cool liquidish surface inches thick thenhe could feel cold air blowing on the other side. He had had enough, now it was time to look what was on the other side. Slowly with eyes wide open he pressed his face to then through the wall. Darkness was all until he could see the other side. Opening his mouth he took a breath of cold, bone chilling cold musty air filled his lungs and stung his face. A slightly illuminated grey fog surrounded him. There was something moving in the haze, figures moving as if they senced his presents. Moving towards him it looked like a man but he could not make out any features as if the mans skin was made of corduroy, grey corduroy. Other figure apeared as if they could senced the heat radiating from him in this freezing cold place. The grey figure came closer and closer then reached out for the boy. The hands looked the same grey corduroy without finger nail the face had no eyes, nostrils or mouth. Coldness of the hand seemed to be sucking the warmth out of his face and his eyes were so cold they were burning and felt like needle pricking him. The boy pulled his head back out of the wall in a shocked state of panic, then stepped away from the wall. ripples surged across the wall and ceiling as if something was trying to get through. The boy stepped back evenfuther then noticed he was standing within a foot and right in front of the mirror. Looking into his reflection something didn't look right. Leaning forward looking into the mirrors darkness there was another figure in there. Suddenly a gery hand reached to then pushed through the mirror like waterand grabbed him. Dropping to the floor he jerked free of the icy grip and crawled to the middle of the room.
"What the hell are you doing up there!" came the boys fathers voice up the stairs.
"Dad! THERE IS SOMEONE IN THE WALL!" he yelled.
Mom and dad came up stairs and looked around finding nothing as usual. Doctors looked at the boy and the parents talked about the kid needing help. They finally all agreed it was an over active imagination. Years have past the boy has grown up and he stopped touching and staring atwalls. Maybe there is someone in the walls. As for the mirrors I never get within arms reach. When you sleep at night sleep well.
© Copyright 2016 Steve Fettinger. All rights reserved.