The Man in the Wall

I had just moved into a cheaper house, very close to the old house that I had been renting since I was forced to put my own house up for sale.

The divorce was ugly and over before I knew it. She had somehow forgotten how to love me, and left me, like a dirty plastic bottle crushed on the edges of a sidewalk in the early days of spring.

I had decided against a roommate. I was old and I was broke, but I was also proud. So, I convinced myself that my grown children would need the space when they came to visit.. in my dreams.

Alone. Loneliness, the greatest curse known to man. But I was also too tired to do the things that brought regret, all those things had come before, nothing felt good enough anymore.

Time to die? Thoughts of the big, bang, blast, came to mind periodically. My great demise. The revolver left to wait... I wasn't ready for the trigger.

Tomorrow always came with a good shit, a long drag, my neighbours wife gardening in the heat, and a predictable motion of events that brought me peace- Until I heard the noises. Scratches in the night, slamming during the day, whispers in the morning. Whispers in the walls. Kind of like the movies. Where they find the man, the man left in the wall, to live alone and die in company.

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I wasn't one to live in denial. The man in the wall was real! It was easy to tell.

Rodents don't move kettles out of place, or skip tracks on the Dark Side of the Moon. Raccoons don't leave man-prints on the mirror from the shower steam.

A man's imagination would never keep his weapon out of reach. And for an instant, in the night, no amount of liquor would ever have me meet another man's face so close to mine.

There was no doubt to cast aside. But I knew how the story would end if I didn't proceed with careful steps.

I decided not to go beyond the familiar territory of my sad humble abode to look for him.

Sure, I could search to discover a big trap door behind an old shelf. I'd creep ahead to find a dark and dingy staircase with cobwebs at my feet, and a dead cat or two left behind for food.

But no matter how ready I'd be for the worse yet to come, the sad surprise of an axe thrown in my direction would surely meet me.

With one leg cut off I'd find myself caught in his perfect trap and bleed to death where no one would come looking.

Call the police? I'd be the madman! Dragged off to the station and held for questioning. I'd be detained for good when they discovered officer Bill, who had raced down the stairs with plenty of heroic intention and no flashlight.

One of life's greatest mysteries to solve.. How did the man in the wall vanish in the most confined spaces and always win the game?

The thought of leaving briefly came to visit. But I was sick for resolution.

If I decided to leave, his next defenceless victim would move in to face a tragic end.

So, there I was, a careful man, with nothing to lose or fear. I wanted to win.

I had a plan.

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I had to be sure that my plan would work. I needed time.

I had put myself in his shoes, or the shoes of every other man in the wall. All the films I had seen on the subject assured me of his character.

The man in the wall was a slow burn, lonesome and deranged, with secrets buried, skeleton companions, and on the tip of a murderous breaking point. He also couldn't resist a beautiful woman. And sooner or later, he'd wish he had one.

This came sooner, when a few days before I was to enact my plan, the neighbours' wife disappeared.

Poor Patricia, a goddess blessed with all the wonders known to quench a man's desire. The perfect victim.

But, I couldn't be sure he had taken her. I was so close to setting the perfect trap! It would be too risky to reveal myself and charge ahead with doubt. So far bidding time, I had evaded suspicion. I had kept busy moving my salt shaker back in its place, scratching my head, and offering perplexed looks and tense movements.

The man in the wall watches and waits, so I knew I was also cutting it close to being murdered in my sleep, but my pride smothered death's aspirations.

Friday night came with red wine and I thought of Patricia. Her husband Bill had cried in my doorway earlier to reassure himself of their happiness and never ending love. The police were investigating,...him no doubt? I knew Bill was too soft for murder. You can smell a coward because he usually shits his pants. He was the type of man who couldn't hide his weakness- it was out and about, like wet laundry left to dry on a summer's day. No way those moisturized hands were covered in blood. It was more likely that my man in the wall was keeping his wife company.

Then I heard it! The moment of truth, whispers, then a moan, a crash and a wail.

My mind unsettled, I woke up in a sweat to the noise of two loud cats fighting outside my window.

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The cats did not disrupt for very long, and were replaced by a loud adamant knock at the door in the early hours of the morning.

No doubt it was the return of Bill, ready to keep trying to wail his deceased lady love back to existence. Pathetic. Men were truly on the verge of extinction, slowly being replaced by cuckolds and software developers.

The knocking continued. I was tired of these distractions, too much time had passed since my failed brilliant plan. It was time for the element of surprise for my homme dans le mur.

I swung the door open and plastered on my sympathetic face.

To my surprise it wasn't Bill, just that baby faced detective that had canvassed the neighbourhood yesterday, asking questions, gathering information on Patty's disappearance. What a sight, half a man, with size 9 feet and a weak chin at my doorstep. He was holding a ziplock bag which contained what looked like a fake nail fragment.

He explained that the nail had been found in my backyard hedges. Not quite the revelation I was expecting, since Patricia's fingers that had been attached to her body where never too far, with us being neighbours and all.

But, this was the part where I was forced to be most helpful. For all I knew, he'd grow suspicious, arm himself with a warrant, and come back to ask if I minded if he take a look around.Then the inevitable would happen..the little bitch and his police persona would draw attention to the walls and have no chance. So, I assured him I'd be more than happy to answer any questions, and let him in.