Weirdness in the Walls

Chapter Nineteen | Weirdness in the Walls

For the past two weeks, persistent thoughts continued to nag at the young teen. Everything he did seemed to bring up the most peculiar sensations and odd thoughts. Something about that lunch with his mom continued to bother Parker.

Why did she seem nervous?

Where had that drill bit come from if not from her tool kit?

Did Parker really see a shadow that night when the power in his miniature house started flickering?

The whole thing felt surreal. Confusion clouded every thought and made everything feel off. The entire time, the little boy found himself drawn to the curiosities of the wall.

Parker knew as well as any young boy how houses were constructed. There was drywall and support beams and load bearing walls as well as dozens of cords and electrical connections along with pipes that filled the spaces a normal person couldn't see. Like the veins and arteries and organs in a person, there was a lot in a house that was unseen.

What else might be unseen?

Mice, for one, were like viruses of the body of the house. They were unseen and could cause a lot of damage when left unaddressed.

But even Parker knew that mice didn't know how to draw and write.

Try as he might, Parker's scouring of the internet provided no reference to the sketch he found along the baseboard just inside of the electrical cover when he went poking around two weeks ago. There were no carpentry marks that he could find that looked like the mark he found, though he learned quite a bit about architecture and construction shorthand.

Parker concluded it was either something the previous tenant left or something that was an in-house design for whoever built his family's home.

Because, deep down, Parker found himself wanting to discount a third option – that someone else made that mark; someone like him.

It was impossible.

Parker knew his condition was rare and that there were practically no reported cases about it. He knew because he spent a lot of time trying to research it on his own late at night when his mom was sound asleep. It was a move of, what he considered, desperation to find someone else to talk to about why he was the way he was.

Being small was hard…

And Parker wished he could talk to someone about it from time to time – someone who was like him who would understand. Someone to compare notes and experiences with.

Perhaps, in the back of his mind, he wanted someone else to be there so he could talk to them.

But the thought of some strange person who was small like him living in the walls sounded like something out of a fantasy book. Parker had heard of stories like the "BFG" by Roald Dahl and "Thumbelina" by Hans Christian Anderson, but those were fiction stories meant for kids.

On the other hand, Parker did exist.

He was alive.

And he was approaching four inches tall now with all of his recent growth spurts.

So… didn't that mean that those stories could have pulled from a realistic source?

Was it really so far of a stretch to think that these stories might have been pulled from true experiences with someone his size?

These thoughts were keeping Parker awake at night and distracted during the day. It was really bothering Parker. What was worse was that his friends were noticing his absent stares as his mind whirred and worked the same problem over and over. It felt like kneading the same ball of dough as it deflated only to rise again.

Parker tried deflecting the issue continually, making the excuse that he was tired after finals and that he had a bunch of projects he was working on, but it felt dishonest to keep something like this from his friends.

What made it worse was that Parker didn't feel like he could bring it up to his mom. Her reaction before was enough of an indication that something was off, and Parker didn't want to bring it up. It felt weird talking to her about it now if he was being honest with himself.

Parker's friends were really thoughtful and considerate, especially Selina who was calling more frequently to check up on him. It was a nice distraction. Sadly, it wasn't enough to draw Parker away completely from the nagging sensation that he was missing something – something important.

So, finally, he had enough.

Parker needed to know.

He needed to know why the darkness of the wall felt alluring.

He needed to know why these sensations were infecting his mind.

He needed to know if he was missing something.

So, nearing midnight when his mom was asleep, Parker decided he needed to act.

He forced himself out of bed and pulled on some already dirty clothes, so his mom didn't suspect he was up when he wasn't supposed to be. There were a few tools that Parker just felt were necessary that he shoved into his backpack like a spare thumbtack, string, a safety pin, and a spare battery for his flashlight that he pulled onto his shoulder.

Trembling with anticipation, Parker tiptoed out of his little space to the line affixed to the back of the table. It took moments to slide down the line, the fibers making Parker's slightly sweaty hands burn. Touching down on the ground felt like landing on an alien planet in a dream.

Nothing felt real.

And yet it did at the same time.

Parker approached the electrical cover and heaved a few times before managing to wiggle it free from its place. It slid off to the side and made a slight cracking sound as it fell a few inches, leaving a nice little hole for Parker to slide into.

Once again, the sensation overcame him. The vertigo of the room overwhelmed the small boy while the darkness of the wall beckoned him forward.

This time, however, Parker didn't resist.

He cautiously hoisted himself up onto the ledge and slid down onto the other side of the wall. Parker hit the ground and immediately found his eyes adjusting to the pitch black darkness in front of him. He couldn't see clearly by any means, but Parker could better make out outlines of the beams when he was close.

The young teen flicked on the flashlight on his shoulder, readjusting the elastic band he used to keep it affixed to his shoulder and arm, and decided to take an extra precaution to make sure he didn't get lost. On a nearby exposed nail, Parker fished into his pack and pulled out some of the thread he had placed in his pack and tied it onto the head of the nail.

It was a camping trick his mom told him about so he wouldn't get lost.

When the thread runs out, I'll go back. I just have to see.

Parker took a deep breath and closed his eyes before daring to venture forward into the darkness, the light on his shoulder leading the way.

There was something reassuring about this narrow passageway in between the walls. Every towering beam that the nearly four inch tall boy passed didn't produce the same sense of vertigo that being outside of the walls gave him. The smell of the undisturbed wood between the walls brought with it a sense of nostalgia.

The sense of familiarity washed over him.

But why?

This was only the second time he had dared to peek inside the walls, and this was the first time he ventured forward into that darkness.

Every step felt amplified, like the noise itself of his footsteps could bring down the walls themselves. The thumping in his chest, however, made the little crunch of dust and debris under his feet seem like a whispering wind.

Nauseous and shaking, Parker dared to press forward around the corner and along the next portion of the wall.

Every few inches, Parker paused and looked around for any additional markings or signs of something – anything – that would've caused that shadow. Every nerve and fiber of his being felt electrified, buzzing with anticipation. Parker didn't know if it was fear or excitement that was making his body tremble and shake.

He wasn't sure how long he had been in the walls. Probably an hour? Maybe more? Perhaps it was less. Every step further brought curious thoughts and sensations to Parker's mind that felt familiar and alien all at once. Where were these sensations coming from? And why was it happening now while exploring the weird space between the walls?

Nostalgia was the general sensation that filled Parker, but it didn't last for long. His nerves were completely and utterly on edge. Every little sound he made by rustling his bag or crunching over long cut drywall made his heart skip a beat.

It wasn't until he felt a little tug on his line that made his heart jump into his throat. He whipped around and pointed the flashlight back toward the path he just left from. Some weird form of hyperventilation took over his breathing as Parker continued to shake.

Did that just happen?

Did his line just jolt on purpose?

Did something just pull on his line?

"H-h-hello?" Parker called as he dared to take a few steps back along the path he just walked. He glanced down and noticed that there were no footprints behind him. Just the line extending into darkness.

"Hello!" Parker called again, this time a bit louder. His mouth felt like it had been stuffed with cotton. It was dry and ragged. Fear was starting to take over.

Wait. Calm down. Check your thread. You might be out. That might've been the yank.

Parker crouched, not breaking eye-contact with the darkness and the line right behind him, as he reached into his backpack and felt the spool of thread he brought with him. His hands were shaking terribly as he pulled out the cylindrical piece of plastic.

To his complete and utter relief, Parker saw that the little knot he tied in the end was the only thing left on the spool of empty thread. The sigh of relief that came out of him made his shoulders collapse in on themselves as he hung his head in disbelief.

It's out. That's all. The yank was the end of the thread.

Parker knew his promise to himself and now that the spool was out he realized he needed to return. While the darkness in front of him compelled the young teen forward, Parker felt his mind beginning to tire and his reasoning return.

He gazed out at the darkness and felt something deep inside him stir. It was the same place in him that flinched away when his mom reached down the pick him up off of the floor. It was the same place that compelled him to climb and jump from high places. It was the same place that urged him to hide when he felt the ground tremble with the footsteps of his mom.

It was some strange part of him that, for one reason or another, wouldn't be quiet.

It wasn't logical.

It didn't make sense.

And that was what Parker decided to believe.

All of those strange sensations had to be because of his condition, and the jumpiness of his mother had to be related to stress from her work.

It had to be.

It was ridiculous for him to believe someone would be living in the walls.

How could they live in the walls? How would they cook and store food? What would the use to sleep if they didn't have beds?

Also, if they had his condition, wouldn't they be with someone who could help them perform everyday activities?

Parker chuckled to himself as he hoisted the pack back onto his shoulders and began reeling the thread back onto the spool while retreating back to the original electrical cover. He felt completely foolish that he even considered someone living in the walls, especially undetected.

The drill bit he found must've been tucked away in his mom's kit.

Surely that was the answer.

The stress of finals and his imagination running away with him had to have been the culprit. Deciding he needed a little more sleep and a bit less exciting television and stories before bed, Parker ventured back outside of the walls and shimmied back up the line toward his home.

The bed the awaited him was a welcome sight. So, after slipping off his dusty clothes from his misadventure, Parker slid into bed and let his mind quiet for the first time in the past few weeks.

~~~^*^*^~~~

Perhaps it was better Parker didn't venture beyond the furthest corner. Perhaps it was best he didn't look up into the rafters and ridges far beyond. Perhaps it was better the young teen didn't find what he wasn't meant to find.

Kers knew it while he walked along the beams. He was on his way back from the kitchen after borrowing some sugar, salt, and a few other odds and ends for his personal stores. It was in that darkness that he noticed a light far below him walking along the walls.

Kers immediately extinguished his own light and followed along the path, realizing immediately that the form below was Parker – the Borrower boy who thought he was a human.

For a while, the experienced Borrower debated on whether or not now was the time to introduce himself to the young teen. He was in the walls after all; and hearing Parker calling out "hello" made Kers stop completely in his tracks as he was terrified Parker might've seen him.

Parker eventually turned back and left the relative safety of the walls to return to his home in the human's domain. The seasoned Borrower watched the young teen inch up his line and vanish back into the dollhouse.

Kers sighed as he crouched and gazed down at the home.

He understood a little of what Parker's mom must be going through. Parker was old enough to know; but was he old enough to understand?

Parker needed to know the truth, but was it too late? Or was it still too soon?