A Deadly Noisy Affair.

It’s not only the noises that annoy the hell out of me. It’s also the amount of time Derek, my husband, takes to investigate them. Seems most nights now, he leaves our bed to try and find the cause of the tapping. This has been going on for almost a year. Nearly as long as we’ve been living in this large, depressing old house. It was Derek's choice to buy it, and I was not able to change his mind.

I much preferred the suburb we had been living in. The house was just large enough for us to keep up the repairs and maintenance, unlike this rambling place. None of my friends are anywhere near, although Derek has some in this area. His work as a travelling salesman, brought him out this way, and he had made friends of some of his clients. He angrily gave me the choice of staying in our other house, or moving in here. He knew I would choose to be with him, as he knows how much I love him. I'm surprised at how little he cares about my feelings.

Regarding the noises again, it infuriates me when he constantly refuses to call in professional help, or even a priest to exorcise the place. No matter how much I implore him to do so, he won’t listen. I’m often asleep when he returns from his investigation of the noises. We rarely make love any more; he always seems to be too tired. I can’t help feeling frustrated with his neglect. After all, I am a young woman and I do have certain needs.

Occasional physical attention would do, just enough to keep up our bond. That’s if we ever had one. I don’t remember him ever being that attentive to me. He used to brag about other women and how good he was in bed. Huh? That’s not something I’ve noticed lately. If only it could be like it was in the beginning, three years ago, when we married.

I’ve just heard a loud tapping noise from somewhere down the hall. I look at Derek sleeping soundly beside me. He hasn’t heard it. Maybe it won’t go on too long tonight. The constant disturbances at this hour make me too irritable to want his loving at the rare times when he‘s interested. I have stopped trying to instigate it now. Each time he returns from his exploratory expeditions, his only explanation is that it might be the pipes, or the furniture re-adjusting itself. This annoys me even more, especially as he doesn’t feel put out having to investigate almost every night.

I notice that the rhythm of the tapping is inconsistent. It normally stops not long after Derek goes in search of it. But, instead of coming straight back, he likes to go out into the gardens to breathe the night air. The very few times he has slept through the tapping noise, though I've never managed to, the noises continue for up to an hour, at least. I find that slightly suspicious, but don’t know what to think.

The sounds unnerve me, but they don’t seem to bother Derek at all. I can only imagine he likes the excuse to go for a nightly walk. It may be his way to avoid being amorous with me. Sometimes I really feel he’s only humouring me by his almost nightly ritual. I think the noises must be of a ‘supernatural’ nature. Perhaps, just his being near to the noisy ‘spirit’ is enough to make it stop whatever it’s doing.

Of course, Derek won’t accept that this could be supernatural. He says he’s far too sensible to believe in that ‘stuff.’ His attitude is, if all it takes is a walk around the house for the noises to stop, and occasionally the grounds too, it’s not all that bad. He casually adds that it’s good exercise for him! He never considers how I might feel being left alone. On such a regular basis too!

The tapping sound permeates my thoughts again. It’s been going on for some time tonight. I have tried to read, but can’t concentrate. I feel loathe to wake Derek, as I gave him some painkillers earlier to help relieve his headache. He has these frequently and when they’re really bad, he usually goes to bed in ‘his’ favourite of our three guestrooms. He says he doesn’t want to keep me awake, while he rolls about in bed holding his head. So, I guess he must care a little about my comfort.

Although I must say that I have never actually witnessed one of these really ‘bad’ attacks. I still worry about him. His doctor said it could be the strain of him setting up a new business that brings the headaches on. He’s recently started a company to train salesmen to work for him. A louder knocking sound jerks me out of my thoughts. As I listen intently, the tapping grows quieter and sounds almost apologetic. I’ve noticed this kind of pattern before and thought it was going to stop altogether, but now it’s becoming more insistent again. I look at Derek.

He’s still sleeping soundly. I suspect the painkillers have helped him sleep more deeply than usual. I’m sad that he developed this headache tonight in particular, we had felt close enough to be able to make love. Well, not so much ‘love,’ it was more like him going through the motions and doing his husbandly duty. Nothing like when we’d first got married. But they say marriage changes some people. I just hope he isn’t bored with me. I couldn’t bear to lose him, and the love we once had might come back again.

Just looking at his face brings my love flooding back. I listen to the slow breathing of my husband, and to the noises. I know I have got to do something, but I’m understandably frightened about walking through the house this late at night. I am so wide awake and can’t concentrate on my uninteresting book. I wonder if I can conjure up the courage, like Derek does? Will the noises stop for me?

Knowing it has not been possible for him to find the elusive sounds, it should be safe enough for me to give it a try. I carefully get out of bed so as not to disturb Derek, and put on my warm dressing gown and slippers. I can hardly believe what I’m about to do, especially as I have never been allowed to accompany Derek before and have no idea how to go about this.

Maybe it isn’t such a good idea after all. Glancing at my sleeping husband, I realize he’s in no state to help me if I did need him. But then again, he might hear me and come running if I shout loudly enough. I hesitate, but as there’s no point in trying to sleep, I decide to investigate.

I walk slowly down the hall and stand outside each of the many rooms, putting my ear to each door in turn. I listen intently. The noises are getting louder, but it’s hard to tell where they’re coming from. I’m scared, but I go on with my madcap idea. Oh, how I long to retreat and go back to my warm bed. I have backed up a few feet, whilst wondering what I’d do if I find the source of the noises. I suddenly realize that I don’t have my crucifix with me. But, I don’t think I have enough faith right now for that to work anyway. I say the Lord’s Prayer In my mind, and begin to feel confident.

Suddenly I don’t feel I can make myself known by mentally saying the prayer, so I continue it quietly. But my voice becomes quieter and almost non-existent. I do this so nothing ‘other’ than the Lord hears me. Feeling slightly protected, even though I’m muddling all the words up in my nervousness, I bravely walk to the furthest door. The one which leads into the outside hall. Then I turn into the room that has a large old wooden door, which goes out to the vegetable garden. I press my now sore, left ear firmly against this farthest door. The noises are definitely in here! I almost have a heart attack!

I may have been searching for this, but I don’t feel so good about finding it! What’ll I do now? What can I do? If I shout for Derek, whatever is in this room will be able to hear me too! But, on the other hand, if I just run back to safety, we might never find it again.

Breathing in deeply, I open the door as fast as I can, before my nerve or what is left of it, deserts me. Moonlight is streaming in from the large bay window, directly in front of me. The door to the outside is on my left, as I go inside and look around.

There doesn't seem to be anything unusual, or out of place here. Then I notice a large embroidered ‘throw,’ which I have been looking for, over the past eight months at least. What on earth is that doing in here? The noises have stopped. I feel more protected standing in the portion of darkness the room affords, and don’t turn on any lights. Instead I squint my eyes to look into the other parts of the room, which are still in darkness. But I can’t make out anything that is out of the ordinary. I laugh inwardly. What on earth am I expecting? Ghosts? Goblins? Little monsters? Big monsters?

Suddenly, there’s a rush of cold air which slams the door shut behind me! I grab for the handle and pull it with all my might. It won’t open! I can’t even remember a garbled version of the Lord’s Prayer! I’m terrified and shaking so badly. I’ll give the handle another try, but now I hear the window as it scrapes open slowly. Something’s pushing it up. I can see a tall shadowy figure with arms outstretched. My knees give way, and I slowly slide to the floor.

My heart beat thuds noisily in my ears. It’s so loud I’m sure it can be heard. For a while I hope that whatever it is might be trying to get out. But, that’s not happening. I watch in fear as a head appears on my side of the window. Summoning all my deserting strength, I slide along behind the sofa. My worst fears are confirmed, as the figure climbs inside easily. It’s walking toward the door, seeming not to notice my presence.

A different fear suddenly envelops me now. What if this thing finds our bedroom and attacks Derek? I feel a pressure against my side and realize I’ve got my nail scissors in my dressing gown pocket. I take them out. The walking shadowy shape is now just reaching for the handle of the door, to the inside of the house! Without even thinking, I leap out. My scream mingles with the scream of the shadowed form, as my scissors enter deeply into its neck. The figure starts to fall backward, clutching at its throat.

I move far back. Well out of reach, but I’ve lost my scissors, and my voice. I try to scream out for Derek, but can’t get a sound out. I wonder if the scissors are still in its throat? The hoarse breathing sounds are making my skin crawl, but even worse, its crawling toward me! My eyes have become accustomed to the dark now, just enough to see it pull the scissors out. Blood is gushing down its front and its using one hand trying to stem the bleeding. Its other hand is reaching out to me.

What can I do now my weapon is gone? How could I get the scissors back? What if this thing grabs me? I feel too weak to fight it and am shaking uncontrollably. Suddenly the door crashes open and a light is turned on. Derek is standing in the doorway. I feel such wonderful relief.

He looks at me and then at what I can now see, is a woman, on the floor.

But he’s not rushing to my side as I expect him to. My eyes re-adjust to the light and I watch in total disbelief. Derek is taking the outstretched hand of the woman lying rasping and bleeding.

Her croaky voice is trying to call his name.

How does she know his name? Why has he now got his arms around this woman? Why isn’t he coming over to me? I know he’s seen me over here. Understanding comes over me as I look at my husband’s face. I can see incredible grief in his eyes, as he tenderly holds and looks at the dying woman!

I scream out to him saying he’s a cheating bastard. His eyes look mad as he turns to look at me.

“She’s dying you bitch. Why did you do this?”

He’s never used this language with me before and I feel tingles of fear creep up my spine.

“You’ve been lying to me all this time and this is your fault!” I manage to say through my now chattering teeth.

The woman’s eyes have closed and I think she’s dead. I can’t believe I’m a murderer, but what Derek has done causes me to feel far worse. How could he love another woman? Do this to me?

“You’ve caused her death because of your cheating lying ways!” I shout, sounding stronger than I feel.

Derek has just placed the body in a natural position and kissed the dead cheek. He places my ‘throw’ gently, lovingly over her. I’m still hoping he’s going to try and make me feel better about what I’ve just done. I also hope he wants to apologise and tell me this is not what I think. Derek does neither. He’s walking toward me with a terrible sneer on his face. I realize I don’t know this man at all. He’s become a stranger.

“I don’t love you! I've never loved you! I married you for your money, you stupid bitch!” He’s so angry and his face looks almost deformed.

I can’t think of anything to calm him. I notice a glint of silver and quickly pick up my scissors. He’s surprised by my sudden movement, but still comes toward me with the look of hatred contorting his face.

“I hate you!” He growls at me. “I’ve touched your lousy body whenever I couldn’t get out of it, just to shut you up and now you do this.”

I believe he’s lost his mind with the loss of his ‘lover.’ He grabs me by my throat. I react by stabbing him in the eye. Derek reels back holding the bleeding orb. I feel sick at the sight, but he deserves it! I try to run past him to get out the door, but he grabs me by the hair and swings me around, catching my neck. He is trying to strangle me again.

I’m struggling with him and I can feel the wetness as his bloody eye drips on me. He’s regained his strength, but mine is going. I can’t breathe, and my throat’s hurting terribly.

I hear a crunch and the pain’s causing me to pass out. I’m losing consciousness. It’s going dark. I’m going to die, I can’t believe it. He’s killing me and I’m dying. It’s all black now. I feel.. diz .... ..darkness...




~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~