We were both startled awake one morning by the sound’s sharpness and persistence. It wasn’t pipes. It wasn’t wood for settling. Something was moving from inside the wall of the guest bedroom, pushing, scraping.
At that point, worry became uneasiness.
A distinct vibration, like to the hum of trapped wings or the moving of hundreds of small bodies, was noticed when I pushed my ear against the drywall. Neither a mouse nor a rat felt like it. It seemed larger. busier.
With my heart pounding, I took a quick step back.
My husband entered, his jaw clenched. “I’ve finished this. Today, we’re going to break that wall down. In any case, we planned to refurbish.
I refrained from arguing. Whatever was there wasn’t going anywhere.
He went to the garage and got an axe. Dust swirled as the first stroke reverberated throughout the room. The sound inside the wall grew louder with every strike, an angry buzzing, frantic, as though whatever was there sensed danger and was awakening.
With my arms tightly encircling me and my heart pounding in my ears, I stood in the furthest corner. Behind that wall was something. Something very much alive.
