There's A Hidden Room In My House, It Leads To Another Dimension | Part 1
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Did I know we were dealing with something dangerous? Yeah. And I said so more than a couple of times. Did I know it would lead to where we are now? No. Well, that's disingenuous. I kinda knew. I may not be a scientist, but I'm not stupid. Connecting the dots wasn't exactly hard. I knew that the lock was there for a reason. But, come on, I'm only human. And us humans sure are good at fucking it all up, aren't we?

I can say with certainty that none of this began with malice. Grief, arrogance and plain stupidity? Yeah, sure. But never malice. And while I tried so hard to stop it, I didn't try hard enough. There were steps I could have taken to prevent what has happened from happening. There were ways to head this all off. I took none of those steps. Or if I did take a step, I walked it back. This is all my fault, and I own up to it 100%.

I should have never left. First though, I need you to hear how it all came to be. I need you to hear my confession so you truly understand how everything came to be. Moving in, it was a beautiful day as I pulled a set of keys from my jeans pocket and unlocked the front door of our new house for the first time. "Hurry up!" my wife said from behind me. "This shit is heavy!" I was about to open the door, but I paused for dramatic effect.

The real effect was my wife kicking me in the ass with her right foot, while managing not to fall backward down the porch steps, even though she was carrying a footlocker that I could swear weighed more than she did. Melissa was strong, but she was half my size. "Nick! Open the damn door before my arms fall off!" she shouted at me. I turned and gave her a big smile, then gazed off in the distance as if recollecting a time from long ago.

She was gonna kill me, but it was so worth it. I had told her to just leave the locker in the trunk so we could look around the place first before we unpacked. She should have listened to me. Do you remember when we first drove by this house? I asked her. She growled at me. Do you? I asked.

That day we drove aimlessly around this quaint little town and fell in love with it. The afternoon we set out and walked almost every neighborhood on foot so we could admire the old architecture. That night, in that awful bed and breakfast where we knew the old woman running the place was standing outside our door listening to us. How the radiator clanged and groaned all through the night. How you broke out in hives from the sheets and we... Nicholas Olive Baker! Open the damn door right now! She roared.

I lifted my hand and waved then said, "Hey new neighbor, sorry about the noise." Melissa's head whipped around in embarrassment and horror, which considering the weight she was carrying, made her lose her balance and start to topple backward down the porch steps. With reflexes not like me at all, I reached out and grabbed the footlocker, pulling it and Melissa toward me the second I realized my joke was about to go horribly wrong.

I took the footlocker from her and set it to the side of the front door. When I straightened up and turned back around, Melissa was glaring daggers at me. "There's no one there," she snarled. "I almost broke my neck, and I'm sorry," I said, going to her. "It was a bad joke, and I didn't think it through." She swatted my outstretched arms away from her, but I didn't stop. I took her in my embrace and hugged her hand. "You are such a dick," she said as she tried to wiggle free.

The dick you love, I said. A lot. You'd like to think that, she said, still wiggling. Oh, last night pretty much proved it, I said. I'm sure that old bitty at the B&B would agree. She heard it all. I can't believe you talked me into staying there again, she said, her resistance waning. Come on, it was thrilling and you know it, I said, then raised my voice. Nothing like a good screaming orgasm to teach an old bat a lesson.

Melissa laughed, then leaned into me and buried her face in my chest. That's when I saw him. Jonathan Miser, our next door neighbor. "Oh, hi," I said sheepishly. "Not funny," Melissa said. She pushed back and started to say something else, then saw the look on my face. "Gulp," I said, then cleared my throat. "Did you just say gulp?" Melissa asked. Her whole body went rigid. "Is someone behind us?" I nodded yes.

And you aren't messing with me? I shook my head no. And this person heard you loudly announce I had a screaming orgasm? I nodded yes. Hey there, new neighbors! A cheery voice called from the sidewalk. Permission to come aboard? What does that mean? Melissa asked, still facing me.

Her arms were gripping me tightly and I was afraid her anxiety over the situation might break a rib or two. Or six. "Just a little love boat humor," Jonathan said as he crossed our lawn, his hand outstretched, making sure I knew a handshake was about to happen. "You watch Love Boat?" "Is he talking about that old TV show?" Melissa whispered. "I think so," I whispered back. Then I tried to disentangle myself from my wife. She held on even harder.

"Maybe he'll go away," she whispered. "I don't think that's happening." I said then gently pushed her away from me and spun around. "Hi, I'm Nick Baker and this is my wife, Melissa Ellis." I stuck my hand out and Melissa did the same which made us look slightly insane. Jonathan didn't seem to notice and enthusiastically climbed the porch steps two at a time. He shook my hand, then Melissa's.

"So good to have a young couple here," he said, and retreated down the steps back to the stone walkway that led from our driveway to the porch. "Any kids?" And there it was. We hadn't even stepped a single foot into our new house, and the penny had already dropped. I felt Melissa's back stiffen against my chest as she leaned into me. My back went a little straighter too, and I am pretty sure my face gave everything away.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Jonathan said and furrowed his brow. "I've said something wrong, haven't I? We lost our son last year," Melissa said, using her clinical tone. She was a dentist, and the way she said "we lost our son last year" was the same way she broke it to a patient that they were going to need a root canal. Painful, but no big deal. It'll all be fine. Happens all the time.

It was far from fine, and I wouldn't learn just how far it was from fine until it was too late. "I'm so, so sorry to hear that," Jonathan said. "I lost my wife last year to breast cancer. We never had kids. So I don't know your pain, but I do know what loss feels like. I'm sorry about your wife," I said when Melissa remained silent. "How did your son die?" he asked.

We must have both jerked or something because Jonathan took an involuntary step back. "Oh, forgive me," Jonathan said. "That was a rude question to ask. My wife always told me I was too nosy for my own good. She said someday my mouth would get me in trouble. She sure wasn't wrong.

"I have perpetual foot-and-mouth disease, that's for sure. Let me apologize for-" "We have a lot of unpacking to do and we haven't even gone inside yet, and I need to pee." Melissa blurted out, then broke away from me and hurried straight inside the house, leaving me standing there like an idiot and Jonathan standing below me like he'd been slapped.

"Listen," I started to say. "No, no, no, it's my fault," Jonathan interrupted. "This is exactly what my dear Helen warned me would happen, God rest her soul." The man was in his late 60s, or maybe his early 70s, it was hard to tell. He had a nervous energy about him that made him seem younger, except his face was weathered and wrinkled, and I had noticed a slight tremor in his hand when I shook it. "It's all good," I said when everything in me said it wasn't all good.

There was a shitstorm of emotions waiting for me inside the house, and I did not look forward to any of it. "I was going to invite you both over for cocktails later after you're done moving stuff in, but I think I ruined the moment. And maybe we should do it tomorrow evening," he said, looking up at me with an expectant look that reminded me of a dog waiting for a treat. "How does that sound?" I glanced over at the moving van then back at Jonathan.

"We'll probably still be unpacking and getting settled tomorrow," I said. "But another evening for sure." "I totally understand, and that sounds good, Nick," Jonathan replied with a laugh. "Not like you can get away from me or anything. After all, I live next door." He laughed harder, then angled his head and tried to look past me at the front door. "Tell your wife how sorry I am for what I said. I meant no harm. Just a stupid old man and his runaway mouth.

"I'll tell her," I replied, "and there's nothing to apologize for." "Of course there is," Jonathan insisted. "Asking you how your son died? What got into me? That was over the line. It's all good," I said. "One day we'll look back on this and laugh, will we?" That stopped me. The look on his face was so earnest, I wasn't sure exactly what he meant by that. He must have seen the confusion on my face, because he laughed some more and waved a hand.

"See?" he said and laughed harder. "Stupid Jonathan and his stupid mouth." He took a couple of steps back, and his wave turned from dismissive to farewell. "You two be careful moving in," he said as he retraced his steps, backing away across my lawn. "Remember to lift with your legs so you don't strain your backs." "Good advice. Thanks." I said and waved.

I watched him get to the sidewalk and try to look past me to the front door again, then smile and walk off to the left. My eyes stayed on him all the way to the house next door. He waved once more, then was lost behind the hedge separating our properties. For some reason, instead of turning and heading straight inside, I waited until I heard his door open and then close. A little voice inside me said to make sure he wasn't standing on the other side of that hedge.

watching and listening to us unpack the van. Hearing his door latch, I turned on my heel, stared at the open doorway before me, then stepped over the threshold. "Mel?" I called out. "In here." Her voice replied, coming from down the hall. She was probably in the kitchen. The house was late Victorian, and smaller than most of the houses on the block,

Jonathan's, for instance, was three stories with the full turret and wraparound porches on the first and second floor, with a small balcony extending off whatever room was on the third floor. Ours was a two-story without a turret, although it did have a small wraparound porch on the first floor and a small balcony coming off the primary bedroom on the second floor.

It was probably half the size of Jonathan's and three quarters the size of most of the other houses. Inside was a foyer that had pocket doors leading to a sitting room on the right and pocket doors leading to a dining room on the left. Next to the dining room doors was a set of stairs that went up to the primary bedroom and two smaller bedrooms, one of which was going to be my office.

There was one full bathroom upstairs with a door that connected directly to our bedroom and a door connecting to the hallway. Ahead of me was a small hallway that had a half bathroom on the right, a door to the closet under the stairs on the left, and an open doorway leading into the kitchen at the far end. I walked down the hallway and then paused before I got to the kitchen so I could get my head straight. I didn't know what I was walking into and I needed to be prepared for the worst.

To say that the year behind us had been painful and unpredictable would be an understatement. But when I did finally walk into the kitchen, I found my wife leaning forward against the kitchen sink. Her eyes were closed and her face turned up to the sunlight streaming in from the window above the sink. "I could live in here," she said without opening her eyes or turning toward me. "Can you feel the energy, Nick? It's clean and bright and warm. This room is my favorite.

"You may want to hold your verdict on that till after I cook us a dinner," I said. "We'll try to avoid that at all costs then," she said and finally turned around. She leaned her back against the sink and smiled at me. Her brown eyes were a little wet, but it didn't look like any tears had been spilled. She held out her arms and I went to her. The embrace felt so good. We'd been intimate and loving to each other despite the grief we had been suffering through. But that hug?

That embrace, it felt like she and I were finally home again. Back to who we were before it all went to shit. Melissa nuzzled her face against my neck, then surprisingly started to kiss my skin. "Really?" I asked, and instantly regretted it. I spoiled the mood. Except, I apparently didn't. "Really?" She whispered, and her kisses became a little more urgent. Our mouths met, and we kissed hard for a long while.

Then I lifted her up in my arms and moved her to the counter next to the sink. The kissing became more and more, and soon we were pretty much undressed and christening that kitchen counter like teenagers. By the time we had our clothes back on, the sun was setting. We glanced at the kitchen window, then both turned and stared at the kitchen doorway. "All we need is our mattress and bedding," I said. "We can move the rest of the stuff into the house tomorrow morning."

"Leave it all in the truck overnight?" she asked as she buttoned her blouse. "Is that a good idea? I'll lock it tight," I said. "And I doubt anyone on this block is going to try to rob us." "This block isn't a bubble, Nick," she said. "This town is sweet and nice, but it's still filled with people, and people do selfish, stupid things. It's nearly sundown and neither of us have eaten since lunch," I said.

"We could spend the next four hours unloading and unpacking. Or we could just get our mattress, sheets and blankets moved upstairs, then order carry out and eat it on the floor like the college students we used to be. After that, who knows what could happen? Who knows?" Melissa said with a laugh. Then she leaned in and kissed me. "I like the second plan. Bed, food, who knows tonight, then the real work tomorrow." "Works for me," I said.

And that was what we did our first night. It all went downhill from there. Time to move? Skip the hassles of selling during the holiday season and sell your home directly to Opendoor. Request an all-cash offer in minutes, close, and get paid in days. You can even pick your close date so you can move after New Year's. Start your move at Opendoor.com or download the Opendoor app.

Opendoor is represented by Opendoor Brokerage Inc., licensed 02061130 in California, and Opendoor Brokerage LLC in its other markets. Terms and conditions apply. The knock. The mattress was a pain in the ass to move in. The pizza we ordered was only so-so. But the who knows was fantastic.

We may have been a couple of miles from the B&B we'd stayed at, but I was almost certain that old bat could hear us both. I was nearly 100% certain Jonathan heard us, especially after seeing the shit-eating grin he had on his face when he walked over the next morning to say hello and critique our moving techniques.

"Morning, neighbors," he called as Melissa and I struggled to get our very unwieldy couch off the porch steps and through the front door. "I hope you two slept well. Hey there," I said over my shoulder, since I was at the bottom of the steps. I could see him crossing our lawn again. He even had his hand outstretched, like we were just going to set the couch down and have a morning shake or something. I turned my head back to Melissa and rolled my eyes.

She suppressed a smile and nodded at Jonathan. "Good morning," Melissa said, and meant it, although there was definitely a hint of "not the time" in her voice. "I wanted to apologize for yesterday," he said, when he reached the stone walkway and was maybe only a foot or two behind me. "Like I said," I responded, "no apology needed. Looks like you two could use some help," he said, then went silent.

Melissa started walking backward again, and I struggled to keep up with her as she yanked at the couch while I climbed the steps. "We've got it," Melissa said, just as her back reached the front door. "We've moved quite a bit over the years, so we're old pros." "Good to hear," Jonathan said. "I wouldn't be much help anyway. Got a bum shoulder and my arthritis is flaring up in my hands and wrists." "Sorry to hear that," Melissa said as she stopped at the front door.

She looked at me. "We're going to have to take the legs off to get it through the door." "Should I say I told you so now or later?" I asked with a big grin. "That depends," she replied, her grin matching mine. "On what?" I asked as we set the couch down. "Do you want a repeat of last night or not?" was her answer as she cocked a hip.

"No, I told you so at all," I replied. "I don't even know what I told you earlier anyway." Completely slipped my mind. "I can get my tools," Jonathan said and made us both jump. He was within touching distance, directly behind me. I hadn't even heard him come up the steps. "The feet unscrew," Melissa said, and demonstrated by grabbing the one closest to her and giving it a hard twist. "See? Lefty, Lucy, and they all come off."

"Oh, I see," Jonathan said and sounded disappointed. Then he clapped his hands and looked over at the moving van. "How about I carry some of the smaller boxes in for you while you get that couch squared away?" "Um, no, no, we couldn't ask you to do that," Melissa said. Her tone 100% implied that not only could we not ask him to do that, but we would never in a hundred years ever actually ask him to do that. Jonathan did not get the hint.

"It's really no bother," he said, then walked down the steps and headed for the back of the van. "I'll even carry things around back through the kitchen door, so you two can wrangle that couch through the front door. No, really, we've got it." Melissa called after him, then looked at me with her eyes wide and body language telling me to do something. I sighed and rolled my eyes then walked away from the couch and down the steps.

When I reached the back of the van, Jonathan had climbed inside and was carefully picking over the boxes. He selected one that was possibly the smallest box we'd packed. "Hey, Jonathan," I said as I put a foot on the van's ramp. "Listen, we really appreciate you wanting to help, but we can take care of this ourselves." "No, no, it's not a bother," he said and walked to the top of the ramp.

"I really don't mind. As long as I stick to the lighter stuff, I can help all day." And like I said, we appreciate the offer. I said as he walked down the ramp toward me. Then I took the box from him and gave him a big smile. "But we sort of have a system when it comes to moving into a new place." "You're old pros," he said, and he smiled back at me. "Old pros. Moved quite a bit." He stood there and looked at me, waiting for an explanation.

Um, we met in college and then moved so she could go to dental school, I said. A dentist? Jonathan exclaimed. Well, isn't that handy to have next door? Um, sure, I said. I hoped he was just being cute and not actually expecting regular dental advice. Melissa hated that, like really hated it.

"And what do you do?" Jonathan asked. "Nick!" Melissa called from the porch. "Are we moving this couch or what?" "Apparently I ditch my wife when she needs me," I said. "I certainly hope that's not true," Jonathan said sincerely. "You have to be there for your wife, Nick. Always. Because one day, she may not be there at all." "Shit. Fuck." I stepped right into it. Now I was the unthinking asshole.

"Oh, right, sorry," I said. "I was just joking, of course. We all find humor in different things, I guess," Jonathan said. We stood there in silence. I tried to keep my smile in place while Jonathan only looked at me expectantly, although I had no clue what he expected. "Nicholas!" Melissa yelled. "Uh-oh, you got the whole first name shout," Jonathan said with a laugh, then reached out and patted me on my shoulder. "I miss those.

Then he walked past me, lifted a hand, waved at Melissa, and went back to his house. I watched him go the entire way and again waited until I heard his door close. "I swear to God, Nicholas Baker, if you don't get your ass over here and help me with this couch, then you'll be sleeping on it out here on the porch for the rest of our fucking marriage!" Melissa yelled.

"At least we're still married in that threat." I called back as I set the small box on the edge of the van's cargo deck and hurried over to the porch. We got the couch inside, replaced the legs, then moved everything out of the van and into the house. By the time the van was empty, the sun was setting once again and we were both sweaty, dirty, and starving. "You order food while I shower," Melissa said, leaving me in the kitchen while I started to unpack our dishes.

She pointed at my work and shook her head. "We'll use paper tonight. I am not in the mood to wash dishes." "And which box are the paper plates in?" I asked, as I pointed at the piles of boxes still packed. "Sounds like you have a job to do after you order the food," she said, and began pulling her t-shirt off over her head. When she got it off, she looked past me and screamed, then hugged the shirt against her chest as her eyes went wide. "What the fuck?"

I spun and looked at the back door that led from the kitchen and out onto the back porch and then the backyard. Jonathan was standing at the door's window, looking in at us and waving. Then he lifted a to-go bag, pointed at it, and then pointed in at us. "Are you fucking kidding me?" Melissa hissed, then tried to force a smile as she backed out of the kitchen. "Make him go away, Nick."

"On it," I said, and went to the kitchen door. "Startled you, I see," Jonathan said as he pushed past me the second I opened the door. "Sorry about that, but I thought I'd do you both a favor and order you some dinner." "You shouldn't have," I said, and there must have been a little too much sarcasm in my voice because Jonathan paused as he set the bag of food down on the only clear space left on the counter. "Oh, did you already order food?" He asked and looked around.

"Unless you're planning on cooking, which doesn't look like a good idea considering you still have a lot of unpacking to do." I heard a door shut upstairs. "No, we were going to order food to go," I said. "You're right about us still having a lot of unpacking to do. So much unpacking. Gonna take us most of the night, probably." "Well, then pasta from Marino's should hit the spot," Jonathan said and looked around. "Where are the plates? I'll dish up."

The water started to run upstairs and I glanced at the ceiling. "Um, Jonathan, I really appreciate this, but we're not really set up for company right now, if you know what I mean," I said. "No, how do you mean?" he asked. I blanked on a response and stood there with my mouth open. "I'm just joking," Jonathan exclaimed. "I get what you mean, of course I do."

I may have perpetual foot-and-mouth disease, but I don't have foot-and-brain disease!" He laughed hard and loud, like he'd said the funniest thing ever. I chuckled along with him until his laughter finally died down. "Yes, well, um, how much do I owe you for the pasta?" I asked. "What? No, no," he exclaimed. "It's my treat. I wouldn't think of you paying for it."

"I know, but I'd feel weird taking food from you like this," I said. "Taking food from me?" he asked, looking puzzled. "I'm going to join you, of course!" "Shit! Fuck!" He wasn't getting the hint at all, so much for not having foot and brain disease. But before I could respond and explain that Melissa and I were looking for a nice evening alone after a hellish day unloading the van, a scream from above erupted through the house.

I heard the water shut off and Melissa calling for me. "You should check on that," Jonathan said. I barely heard his words as I sprinted from the kitchen and raced up the stairs where I found Melissa with a towel wrapped around her, standing in the hallway outside the bathroom. She whirled around when she heard my footsteps and her face was as white as the towel she held around her dripping body. "Mel, what happened?" I asked.

There's someone in there, she said, and backed away from the bathroom. Someone knocked. I heard it. I let the words sink in and frowned. Wait, someone is in the bathroom? Or someone was outside the bathroom and knocked on the door? I asked, confused. No! She exclaimed. They knocked on the wall, not on the door. I don't understand. I said as I went to her and held her wet body against me. She was shivering hard. Walk me through it.

She took a deep breath and said, "I was showering and had just rinsed my hair when someone knocked on the wall opposite the faucet. Maybe it was the pipes," I suggested. "The pipes don't knock three times in a row in perfect rhythm," she said. "Knock, knock, knock. Just like that. People knock like that, not pipes." "Everything all right up there?" Jonathan called from downstairs. Melissa spun in my arms and stared up at me.

"What is he still doing here?" she asked. "Get rid of him." "I tried," I said. "He didn't get the hint." "You need any help?" Jonathan called. "We're fine, thanks." I called back. "Get rid of him," Alyssa said. I started to pull away, but she held on tight. "Don't leave me," she snapped. "Babe, which is it?" I asked. "Get rid of him or don't leave you." She froze for a moment, then shook her head.

Fuck the neighbor, she said. Go look in the shower. For what? I asked. The source of the fucking knocking. She snapped. Aren't you paying attention? I'm coming up, Jonathan called. Stay here, I said, and gently extracted myself from her arms. Then I walked to the landing and looked down to see that Jonathan actually was coming up.

"Hey, Jonathan?" I said as I held up my hand, palm out. Jonathan saw the gesture and stopped halfway up the stairs. "Everything is good. Mel just got startled by something is all. Hey, could we take a rain check on that dinner? I'm happy to pay you back for tonight, but I think we need to be alone right now if that's okay." "Oh, sure," Jonathan said, but he didn't start back down the stairs. "Thanks," I said. "Um, good night. I'm sure we'll talk tomorrow."

Jonathan craned his neck to try to see past me. "Are you certain you don't need any help?" he asked. "I'm sure," I said. I cleared my throat, looked down the hall at Melissa, where she stood stock still and only a towel and her eyes wide, and gave her a nod. Then I looked back at Jonathan and made the biggest mistake of my entire life. "How about lunch tomorrow?" I said to him. "Our treat this time."

"Um, yes. That sounds great," he said, and then finally turned and walked back down the stairs. When he reached the bottom, he looked up at me. "What time should I come by? Say, one-ish?" I replied. "Wonderful," Jonathan said. "One-ish it is. I'll see you then. Good night, Nick." He put a hand to his mouth and shouted, "Good night, Melissa!"

"Good night, Jonathan!" she yelled. I looked at her and saw her mouth the words. "What the-" As soon as Jonathan was gone out the front door, I hurried back to Melissa. I hugged her, then looked at the open bathroom door. "Let me have a look," I said and let her go. "Be careful," she said. "Over three knocks?" I asked and laughed. She didn't laugh. "I'm not kidding," she said. "What if someone is in our house?"

"You mean like in the walls?" I asked. "I don't fucking know!" She snapped. "Okay, okay, I'll have a look," I said. "I'm sure it'll be fine." I stepped into the bathroom and went straight to the shower. The curtain was already shoved aside so all I did was lean in and put my ear to the tiled wall opposite the faucet and shower head. Five minutes went by, but I heard nothing. "No knocking," I said, pushing away from the wall.

"But I definitely don't think it's the pipes." "I already told you it wasn't the pipes!" Melissa said. "Someone knocked, I know it." I looked back at Melissa, and she hadn't moved an inch. I smiled, walked to her, took her by the shoulders, and gave her forehead a kiss. "I'll do a sweep of the house just in case," I said. "Make sure no one is hiding anywhere." "Oh Jesus Christ," she said, and grabbed my arms in a death grip. "Do you really think someone is in the house?"

"No," I said immediately, and tried to get free of her grip. "Where are you going?" she asked. "Uh, to check the house," I said. "No, you're not," she said, and pulled me to the bedroom. "You're going to stand right here until I get dressed. Then I'm not leaving your side. Want you get dressed?" I said with a laugh. "If I have to. Not the time," she snapped. "Not happening tonight."

"Right, sure." I said as she walked to an open cardboard box and started pulling out random pieces of clothing. Once she was dressed in sweats and an old t-shirt, she returned to me and pointed out of the bedroom. "Now we search," she said. "You first." I responded and she smacked my arm. "Nick, this isn't funny," she said. She had no idea how right she was. The lunch. "We looked everywhere and no one was in the house," I said with a shrug.

I took a bite of salad and smiled across the table at Jonathan. And you didn't hear knocking again? Jonathan asked. Not even later in the night? No. I sat around my mouth full of salad. Nothing at all. But are you certain you heard knocking? Jonathan asked, turning to Melissa as she picked at her salad. She looked up from her plate and nodded. I'm sure I heard it. She answered. Three distinct knocks. Knock, knock, knock.

"Knock, knock," Jonathan said and nodded. "Did it sound like a knock you recognized?" "Recognized?" Melissa responded. "No, I didn't recognize it. Why would I?" Jonathan didn't answer. He only smiled, then took a huge bite of his sandwich. He chewed and chewed, looking like a cow with its mouth overstuffed with grass. Melissa and I shared a look of bemusement. "Do you know something about the house that we don't?" I asked Jonathan.

The man smiled and kept chewing. Then he made a big show of swallowing before taking a long drink of iced tea. "There may have been rumors," Jonathan said. "The people who lived here before you had stories." Jonathan took another huge bite of his sandwich and started the cycle of chewing and chewing over again. Melissa and I shared another look. This one was a mix of apprehension and impatience.

When the chewing had gone long enough, I cleared my throat and said, "We'd love to hear those stories." Jonathan waved me off and shrugged. "Nah, you don't want to hear those," he said after finally swallowing and taking another sip of his iced tea. "They were nice folks, but they were a little…" "A little what?" Melissa asked. She'd completely given up on her salad and pushed it aside. "Crazy?" "Crazy? No, nothing that severe," Jonathan said.

"More like off." "Off?" I asked. "Off." Jonathan confirmed. "Off how?" I asked. "Oh, well, the stories for one thing." Jonathan said and nodded as if we understood. We definitely did not understand and my patience with our new neighbor was getting thin. "Tell us one of the stories." Melissa said, placing her hand on mine. I could see by the look she gave me that she knew I was starting to get agitated.

Maybe it'll help us make sense of the knocking. Jonathan snorted, then looked at us with wide, apologetic eyes. I am so sorry, he said. I didn't mean to laugh at you. It's just that... My whole body tensed, and I nearly shouted for him to spit it out.

I don't know why he was bothering me so much. Later, it'd become obvious. But at that point, he was just a kooky neighbor being kooky. "Jonathan," Melissa said and took her hand off mine and placed it on his. He looked at her with complete surprise, but he didn't withdraw his hand away. "We really like this house and we plan to stay here for a long, long time," Melissa continued. "I'm starting a new dental practice here with an old college friend of mine.

That will take time to build and take time to grow. So, you and I, we're going to be neighbors for a while. It'd really be a help if you could let us in on what you aren't telling us. It's our house, so I think we should know everything, don't you? I had to hand it to Melissa. She saw I was close to losing my shit on Jonathan, so she switched our roles. She became the sympathetic one toward the man as I became the annoyed one.

This would prove to be a tragic mistake, one of so many we made in those days. "Okay, okay," Jonathan said and nodded as he pushed his plate away. I had never been so happy to see a person stop eating.

"It's funny that you say the knocking came from the shower wall," Jonathan said. "Because the former neighbors, and like I said, they were lovely people just a little off. They told me they had found a hidden room in the house, nothing much bigger than a closet." "A hidden room?" Alyssa asked. "Where?" "That part is a little vague," Jonathan said. "But from what I gathered, it is right next to the upstairs bathroom."

"There's no room next to the bathroom other than ours," I said. Melissa frowned at me. "It's hidden, babe," she said with a wry grin. "Right," I said, and sipped my own iced tea. "Sorry." "The wife, a pleasant woman named Sharon, she and I were having lunch one day, just like I am with the two of you, and she told me how she heard knocking," Jonathan said.

"But it wasn't three solid knocks like yours was, Melissa." "No, this was far more of a frantic banging, as if someone was trapped and wanted out." "Good thing that wasn't what you'd heard," I said to Melissa. "You'd probably still be freaked out." "I am still freaked out," Melissa said with a dismissive look. She returned her attention to Jonathan. "Go on."

"Yes, well, Sharon burst out of that bathroom and called for her husband," Jonathan said. "His name was Lawrence, Larry for short. Well, Larry came running, but he didn't hear anything." "Same as Nick," Melissa said. "That sounded a little judgy," I said. "Oh, stop," Melissa said without looking at me. "Did Sharon hear the knocking again?" "She did, she did," Jonathan said. "But this time in the hallway, not in the bathroom."

She heard the same frantic banging as if someone was desperate to escape an enclosed space. Except, it didn't sound like it was coming directly from the wall. More like someone was knocking on a wall inside the wall, if that makes sense. "Kinda," I said. "That's a pretty specific description." "Yes," Jonathan agreed. "Which wall?" Melissa asked. "Is it the one outside the bathroom? The one that stretches the rest of the hallway?"

"That exact wall," Jonathan said. "I knew it!" Melissa exclaimed as she leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest like she'd just solved the world's most difficult mystery. "The dimensions are off. Something has been bothering me since we moved in and that's it. That wall is too long for the space." "It is?" I asked. "I hadn't noticed."

"Well, I did," Melissa said as she pushed her chair away from the kitchen table and stood up. "Come on, I'll show you." "Oh, are we finished with lunch?" Jonathan asked, eyeing the remnants of his sandwich and the half-eaten bag of chips next to it. "Oh, right. I'm so sorry," Melissa said and sat back down. "You two keep eating. We'll go look after you're done." I took two bites of salad, then pushed my plate away.

I knew my wife very well, and she did not have the patience to wait until we were done eating. Jonathan, though, did not know my wife, so he started the huge bite, chew, chew, chew, sip, tea rhythm all over again. That is, until he realized Melissa was staring at him. "I think I'll finish this later," Jonathan said, and pushed his plate to the center of the table. He stood up, wiping his hands and then mouth with a napkin.

"Let's go see this wall." I stood up and shook my head. Melissa saw me and frowned. I gave her a big smile and rolled my eyes. Her frown deepened, but she didn't say anything. In seconds we were all upstairs, studying the wall outside the bathroom. Melissa kept ducking into the bathroom, then ducking back out to look at the wall. She even paced off the measurements with her feet in the hall and the bathroom.

"It doesn't add up," she said triumphantly. "The bathroom wall ends here." She indicated a place on the wall outside the bathroom. "But look how far the wall goes before it hits the outside wall. There is definitely enough space for a hidden room." "You know, many of these old Victorian houses have secret rooms or even secret passageways behind the walls," Jonathan said. "It was a way for the man or woman of the house to keep an eye on the staff without them seeing."

"Spying on the help," I said. "Those were the days. Stop it," Melissa said and swatted my arm. We stood there and stared at the wall. "Now what?" I asked. "There isn't a door, so it doesn't seem like we can do much about this." "Perhaps the wall can be disassembled," Jonathan said casually. "Yeah, I'm not keen on doing any demolition," I said. "We bought the house because it had already been renovated, not because we want to start doing renovations."

I turned to Melissa. "Right, babe?" She smiled weakly and didn't look at me. "Right, babe?" I insisted. "Riiiight." She replied, my shoulders slumped. "This is going to bother you, isn't it?" I asked her. "Maybe." She said in a tone that told me there was zero maybe about it. "Let's think about this," I said, trying not to sound annoyed.

We could rip into that wall and find absolutely nothing. It may be a space, it may not. It could be a storage space or something like that. But it could also just be a wall. And we end up doing a shit ton of damage to our new house. It's hardly new, Jonathan said. I whipped my head around and glared at him. Not helping. I snapped before I could soften my response. Oh, sorry, he said, and took a step toward the stairs. I, uh...

"Maybe I should go." "No, I'm sorry," I said. "That was rude. I apologize." "It's perfectly all right," he said and walked all the way to the stairs. "You two have something to discuss, and you don't need your meddling neighbor here making it worse." "You haven't made anything worse," Melissa said, giving me a look that said I was in for it the second Jonathan left. "You were a big help. If we hadn't heard that story, then I'd think the place is haunted."

It still could be, Jonathan said with a shrug. You have no idea what lurks behind that wall. All I could do was blink. Did he just say that? I mean, really? But Melissa laughed and went over to him. Or it could be giant rats, she said, and patted his shoulder. Do you want me to wrap your sandwich up for you? No, no, I'll do it myself, he said. I'd hate to waste a great sandwich like that.

"You said the sandwich and salads were from that new deli on 4th street?" "Yeah," I said, since I was the one who found the deli and picked up the food. "They had all kinds of great things on the menu. That is good to know," Jonathan said and smiled at both of us. "Well, I'll be off. Good luck with your wall." I lost sight of him as he went down the stairs. I didn't lose sight of the death glare Melissa gave me when she turned around.

"Listen, I'm sorry," I started to say, but Melissa held her hand up and stopped me. Then we waited as we heard Jonathan putter around in the kitchen before he finally left out the front door. That's when Melissa snapped at me. "What has gotten into you? Me? What has gotten into you?" I snapped back. "Yesterday you couldn't stand the man, and today you two are best buds."

"Yesterday you were patient with him, and today you were rude as fuck," Melissa replied. "And all he's trying to do is help us. Help us find a hidden room and find ghosts?" I asked. "Is that what he's helping us with?" "It may not be ghosts." "The fact that you have to use a qualifying word like 'may' tells me right away you think it's ghosts," I said with a laugh. "I don't think it's ghosts," she responded indignantly. "Maybe it's just one ghost."

Jesus Christ. I muttered. I closed my eyes and yanked at my hair. Then I took a deep breath, opened my eyes and said, "Do you want me to call a contractor?" "What for? What do you think?" I said and pointed at the wall. "To take out the wall so we can see what's behind it. Do you think we should?" "Are you fucking kidding me with this?" "Don't talk to me that way." I took another deep breath.

"I'm sorry," I said. "It's just that we didn't budget for this, and I need to start writing the article ASAP. Dealing with the contractor and the wall is going to cut into my research time." "I thought your deadline wasn't for months?" "It's not, but it's still a deadline, and I need to interview at least four people before I can start writing," I said. I realized I was still pointing at the wall, so I lowered my arm. "But I'll deal with it if you think this is going to be an obsession."

"It's not going to be an obsession," she responded. I raised an eyebrow. "Not a big one." "I'll call a contractor right away. You can't start a new dental practice with your mind on the alleged hidden room in our house. You're making the money right now, so let's not upset that balance." "Don't be like-" "Like what?" "Powdy," she said and moved over to me. She placed a hand on my chest and smiled up at me. "Powdy's not sexy." "Seriously?" I said with a laugh. "Now's the time."

"Oh, are you not in the mood?" she asked and pushed away from me. She walked toward the bedroom with a serious wiggle in her hips. "Is Nikki too pouty?" Clothes came off and were thrown out into the hall at me. "No," I said and rushed toward the bedroom. "Nikki is not too pouty at all."