When The Walls Talk

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If walls could talk...hahaha

Until recently, Paul thought that was just a saying. A trivial comment made when joking about what kind of witnesses a wall would be, if they could communicate.

Would you want to know what they know? Would you be willing to listen?

Officers are taught to pay attention to their surroundings, always staying aware, you know, where there's smoke there is fire? No clue is unimportant.

Paul's mother told him repeatedly when he was a young boy, and it remains true today, that when the earth talks, you need to stop what you're doing, and listen. Every form of life is communicating, constantly, and you have to be open and pay attention, questions and answers are everywhere. If you listen, you could save a life, maybe - even your own.

This advice did save his life.

Detective Paul Williams, veteran cop, was the first officer on scene, when the first of the unusual messages appeared. Had there been any indication that this was something other than random gang graffiti, the outcome might have been prevented.

The message on the walls appeared to be written in blood. Without forensics, he continued the investigation as if it was red paint. The first message read:

” You think no one knows, but we know. You know what needs to be done, do it! This is only the beginning.“

Laying on an old piece of cardboard, tucked behind a trash container and covered with a torn, bloodstained yellow blanket, was the body of a small child. Detective Williams was later quoted saying, “between the shadows on the ground and the way the lettering on the wall touched. It seemed to be cradling the small boy. Holding it, comforting him, even.”

Reporters covered the area like cockroaches.

"What do you think detective? Is this gang related? Why would they harm a child, is it some form of retaliation, do we need to be worried about a crime spree on our children?" Three reporters asked at once, "Detective, please, tell us what the cryptic message means."

Paul turned to the reporters, tears in his eyes and said desperately, "I don't know." His stoic pause shocked the reporters. They all stood eerily quiet and motionless, staring at the message on the wall.

Moods quickly changed as the EMTs arrived to retrieve the fractured child. The scene became chaotic and overrun with a commotion that cast a shadow on the true horror the scene first displayed.

Lost in the business and duty the situation demanded, Paul was soon distracted, and onto finding the next clues.

With all the evidence gathered, and the scene blocked off, being preserved for further investigation, Paul threw his hat in the car, took a deep breath, and went home. As he pulled into his drive, a dark figure disappeared around his garage. Paul jumped out to chase the stranger down, there were no signs of anyone around.

As he stood in the darkness, his flashlight illuminating the courtyard, the walls appeared to bleed another message.

"You know what is coming, only you can stop it."

Paul dropped his flashlight, shattering it into pieces. He ran back to his car for his radio. By the time backup arrived, the message had run down the wall, creating a puddle. Paul put his finger into it, it was blood. But whose? And how were these messages just appearing, what could they mean?

The detective chief inspector requested firmly, that Paul accompany him to the station for some follow up. After several hours of hashing and rehashing what had happened, and the exact timeline they took place, Paul was cleared to go home.

When Paul got home, he called his mother. She answered the call saying, "it's happening again, isn't it?" Paul was quiet for a moment. "Did you hear me son, the messages are back, aren't they?"

Paul's voice trembled, "I don't know mom, we found a small boy's body tonight, he was being cradled, as if someone tried to save him." As Paul said those words, his front door flew open, shattering the glass in the door, Paul dropped the phone and drew his weapon. Making his way around the corner of the wall, he heard a whisper.

The cellar door opened, and a voice called to Paul.

"It's time, you cannot pretend any longer, you have to step forward."

As the voices stopped, the marker on the message board by the refrigerator began to write another message.

"2/27/23 Devin McDaniel, age 6, needs your help."

Paul rushed across the floor and pulled the board off of the wall, he ran to his car and headed to his mother's house.

As he pulled into the drive, Paul noticed his mother's front door was wide open. Again, he drew his weapon and cautiously made his way inside. As he stepped into the living room, he saw his mother sitting quietly on the sofa, in her hands was a notebook covered in scribbling. She looked at him, wide eyed, and held her hands out, each of her fingers looked as if someone had twisted them like a pretzel.

Before he could ask her, what had happened, or show her the message board. Her eyes rolled back, and she began to run her hands over the scribbles on the tablet, talking in a voice that was familiar, but not hers.

"2/27/23 Devin McDaniel, age 6, needs your help."

The lights began to flicker, the TV and the radio began to play.

"Save him"

The doors all opened and closed, simultaneously. His mother looked at him and said, "Pauly, I need you to see this through, I know you can do it!" Her mouth began to foam and as she choked, another message appeared on the wall.

"You were chosen to be saved; it is time to pass it on."

Paul quickly dialed 911, as help arrived for his mother, the message disappeared. The EMT assured Paul that his mother would be alright, convincing him it was a seizure of some sort, and that his quick actions saved her from any permanent damage. As they left to transport her to the hospital, Paul picked up the tablet that his mother was holding. He heard a voice from behind him say:

"The messages you are receiving are the same ones your "mother" has been receiving since she first found you."

Paul turned around quickly to see a dim light forming on the wall. It was in a human shape, but just an outline. "What do you mean, found me? What is it that you want from us?" Paul asked, not sure he wanted the answers.

The light grew brighter as the wall spoke.

"It is imperative that you find this boy. We were unable to get the message to you about Derek in time, the boy from last night. Devin is in grave danger. The same kind of danger your mother saved you from."

Paul stammered, "I don't understand. What do you mean my mother saved me from? Are you implying she is not my mother?"

The light was almost brighter than Paul could stand to look at. It grew increasingly agitated and urgent in its intensity.

"All you need to know is in that tablet. Your "mother" saved you from the same fate Devin and Derek have faced. We communicate with those who are open to listen, she listened. 2705 Greenland Place Apt# 3, go now!"

Without hesitation Paul was in his car calling for back up to the address he was given, not knowing what to expect. As he neared the apartment complex, he noticed a fire in the back of the parking lot, the streetlights were flashing like an SOS. He instructed the other officers to proceed to the apartment as he went to investigate the fire.

He noticed a man standing with something in his hands, when Paul ordered him to turn and face him, the man turned pointing a gun. Paul opened fire, knocking the man to the ground. The lights stopped flashing and became as bright as day. Paul cuffed the man, and informed backup where he was located, and that a man was down. Paul heard someone calling for help, and proceeded behind the dumpster, where the fire was.

A voice from the corner wall called out:

"He is over there, in a suitcase, hurry before the fire reaches him, his mother is still inside the building."

Paul grabbed the suitcase away from the flames and was shocked as he opened it to find a small boy beaten and bloodied inside covered in gasoline. He called for an ambulance and cradled the small child in his arms, wiping his face clean with his sleeve.

He could hear the sirens as his backup arrived on scene, with the mother, who had also been beaten pretty severely. She sat next to Paul as they loaded her son into the bus.

When Paul asked what had happened, all she could say was, "I don't know, he just went crazy, he said he was hearing voices, and that we would die before he would. Then he took Devin and stormed out the door, I couldn't move or call for help. Thats when I swear, the walls began to tell me it was going to be ok. Don't look at me like that, I know how it sounds, but it's true. And here you are. How did you get here, how would you know where to find us?"

The lights began to flicker, Paul answered, trying to convince them both, "just dumb luck, I guess."

As soon as the scene was cleared, Paul headed to the hospital to see his mother. As he entered the room, he could hear his mother whispering.

"Hey, who ya talking to mom," he asked inquisitively.

She smiled slightly and said, "I think you know, don't you?"

He sat on the edge of her bed and took her hands in his. As he searched her face for answers, he began to cry. "Who am I? Where did you find me, and what exactly did you save me from?"

She squeezed his hands and brushed the tears from his face and softly said, "you my dear, saved me. You are destined to hear what I hear, and the lives you touch, will continue the cycle. What happened in your past is only a nightmare your mind protects you from. You are my boy, my hero. The walls see everything, they know the true intentions of a person. They chose to save you - to save others. That is your gift."

Paul handed her the tablet. She smiled through her tears and asked, "did you read it?"

Paul shook his head, no. "All I need to know you have shown me through your example. Thank you, mom, for teaching me to listen."

As they embraced, the monitor beeped a few times, followed by a voice that said:

"If - the walls could talk"...followed by fading laughter down the hall.