The Other Ones

I took the hallway to the left. Five of those same doors, painted glossy white with golden-coloured plastic handles - two on the left wall, and three on the right - were all only slightly ajar. The first left led into a small study with that old green carpet and a mahogany fireplace, the wood varnished bright and sleek. The first on the right, to a cupboard under the stairs.

But there was another door, right at the end of the hallway. Wide open. It led down a step or two into a small, square room with red bricks making up its walls. The floor seemed to be pale wood, maybe pine, one minute then concrete the next. A small utility room attached to this. I took a few small steps in its direction.

I stopped. Something...was there. Something that hadn't been there before.

People. People standing and chatting and laughing. Barely there, like shadows, but there all the same. Some seemed to flicker, though never enough to fully disappear. Others were just black shapes. Silhouettes of people without feature nor solid form. Imprints of things that weren't there any longer and shouldn't be there now. And when I inhaled, sharply but quietly, they stopped. 

Smiles melted off their faces like water trickling down the drain. Each of them turned to face me, expressionless as mannequins, arms held limply down by their sides. Though no emotion showed on their faces, I felt their shock in the air. The same shock I bore at seeing them. I'd thought we were alone in here. They must have thought the same.

The longer we stared at each other, unmoving, unblinking, hardly daring to breathe, the harder my heart beat in my chest. Something wasn't right. Like I'd made a mistake. Like we'd made a mistake. Like we should not have come here.

Unease crept slowly like a cat stalking a mouse and turned to dread, rearing up and wrapping me in tight coils and threatening to swallow me whole. We shouldn't have come here. 

My heart pounded faster and faster, but no more could I hear it than I could hear the illusive wind outside or the silent ticking of the frozen clock on the wall. The suspense heated the back of my neck. It made sure its presence was known. And it burned hotter with each second until I couldn't stand it any longer.

Fear is a fickle thing. Sometimes we fear something with such rigid intensity, it seems stupid. A moth fluttering loudly near your face isn't going to hurt you. A spider living peacefully between your undusted ornaments will likely never bother you. You're more likely to win the lottery than to be struck by lightning, so why fear the thunder? 

How can something that's not really there hurt you anyway?

"Something does live here!" I called.

No, the spider likely won't bother you. But some spiders are hunters. Some spiders set traps and wait for you to fall in. And sometimes lightning does strike. A person, a house, and everything goes up in flames. Sometimes it's best to leave these things alone.

The spell wasn't quite broken, but something in the air cracked. Just enough for me to shake off that winding, coiling terror. I moved.

It took only four or five steps for me to reach the little brickwork room. But as I went, the figures - these other people - moved too. They both shuffled and slid, somehow simultaneously, out of my vision, behind the open door, just shy of the frame. Like they were hiding. By the time I reached the room, my feet slapping hard against the concrete floor, they were gone. Flickered out of existence like a flame extinguished by breath.

Only... Only they weren't out of existence. Out of sight, maybe. But I could still feel them there. Could feel invisible eyes on me, watching me turn this way and that as I searched for them and tried to figure out what had just happened. They didn't move. They only observed, wordless and soundless. Yet when I turned to look, they were gone. But not gone. Just...not quite there.