In the Underbelly of Silence
a spooky tale
He peered at the hallway through the peephole. In that smudgy view of a familiar space he strained his eyes to spot something unfamiliar. At first glance it seemed the usual — a long empty space, doors to the two apartments at the other end, the elevator doors and the emergency exit along the side of the hallway. As he looked closely at the emergency exit, he spotted the unusual — stretched across the doorway were two broad tapes in the shape of a cross and the handle bar tied tightly to a hook next to the wall. So the message was indeed right, they had sealed the floor. His hands itched to unfasten the bolt of the door to step outside his apartment however the sight of the two cameras on the ceiling with a clear view of the apartments at the either end of the hallway stopped him.
He stepped back from the main door to his apartment — stood in the living room for a while with a contemplative look on his face. His cat perched on top of the bar cabinet stared back at him. This is going to be a slow burn, he thought to himself. It was already getting to his nerves — his office had shut three weeks ago and the lockdown of the city impeded all socialization. Now with this home quarantine, it felt almost like the walls were closing in around him. The thought of it made him feel claustrophobic — he darted towards the balcony and slid open the doors to let in some fresh breeze. The cat immediately jumped off the bar cabinet, across the potted plants and perched herself on top of the bookcase. She didn’t care for being close to the balcony when the door was open. She didn’t care for the living room much either… it was too full of stuff.
He went back to his phone and re-read the last line of the message, “Don’t give them a reason to send you to institutional quarantine. Stay at home and stay safe”. Four apartments on the floor — one across the hall vacant since the couple got ferried to the hospital, one adjoining it, probably vacant or not, he didn’t know, and one adjoining his apartment with an unusually quiet couple whose muffled voices he would sometimes hear — four apartments, three or max four people across the floor, sealed away in quarantine from mankind .
As he pared his phone to the speakers, all silence made way for some heavy metal. Soon his body had caught its rhythm, eyes closed, head banging and his hand strumming an imaginary guitar. He made himself a drink and swirled around the floor sipping whisky between his moves. The vacant hallway outside also buzzed with the muffled sound of Metallica.
Suddenly the music was interrupted as his phone buzzed with a reminder — it was time to take his pills. “Shit!” as he looked down at his drink. He had two choices — to skip it or take it despite the alcohol. He chose the latter. Back to the music, head banging and strumming the guitar.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
He stopped to listen. Was that a knock?
Knock. Knock. Knock.
“Oh, shit! I guess the volume’s too loud”, he said to himself. He turned it down and walked up to the wall adjoining his neighbours’ and gently tapped back with his signature knock.
Knock. Knock, knock. Knock.
He was growing fond of this couple next doors, though they had never met but through these knocks which came every time his apartment was too noisy, he had grown to build a bond with them.
The hard rock in muted volume, felt not so electric so he turned it off and head to the bedroom.
As he lay on the bed staring at the ceiling, something cut through the silence.
Knock. Knock. Knock
He was taken by surprise — why were the neighbors knocking now? He walked into the living room to the wall their apartments shared and knocked on it. There was no response. He wondered if they needed help?! He picked up the intercom to call them but struggled to remember the code to dial another apartment. Was it 9 followed by the apartment number or 0? He tried both ways — 0 gave him nothing, but the ring went with 9. He waited for a response but no one answered. As he replaced the receiver, he was confused, where could they be gone, they were in quarantine too. He peered through the peephole again, to check if the knock came from outside — but the hallway was vacant.
He looked back at the living room, now silent again and wondered if he had imagined the knock. Dismissive, he returned to his bed and lay there again, staring at the ceiling. He saw a moth circling around the light, once in a while getting closer to it and then scathed by its heat again distancing itself. He started to count how many revolutions it took for the moth each time before it dove into the light again. 1–2–3–4–5….12–13.
Knock Knock Knock
The sound almost jolted him up, as if awakened from a shallow sleep. He sat up on the bed, and strained to listen and through the silence it appeared again…
Knock Knock Knock.
Yes, it was definitely there and more so it sounded different from the usual neighbor's knock. It was like a knock with an echo as if something hollow was knocked against.
He walked back into the living room puzzled at the sound. He peered through the peep hole again, all vacant. As he looked back inside the room — he spotted the cat perched on top of the wooden book shelf. It could have been a knock on wood, he thought as he stared at the cat accusatory. She stared back insolently.
He walked back to his bedroom an inexplicable uneasiness rising within him. He picked up the TV remote and turned it on high volume. Late into the night, episodes of Black Mirror continued in succession for long after he dozed off.
He was suddenly awakened and found the bedroom engulfed in darkness. The door to the living room was shut but a sliver of light from underneath it and some muffled sounds came floating in. As his ears accustomed to the sound, he could hear party music, chatter of people accompanied with laughter and clinking of glasses. Puzzled, he tried to get up from his bed, but his body felt incredibly heavy. Sweat pored down his forehead as he struggled to free himself of the paralysis. The sounds start getting louder and suddenly the door opened and in poured one by one, strangers. In their finest attire, they glided through the room, not one paying any attention to him. The bizarre sight befuddled him. As he tried to call out to them, he noticed that their faces were all smudged, like an old polaroid disfigured with age. He blinked hard to clear his vision — but to no avail.
Another hard blink and the room went all dark and he found himself staring at nothing. As he tried to lift himself he was relieved that he was able to do so. He groped around for the switchbox in the dark, and turned on the light. Thirsty, he gulped down some water from the bottle on the nightstand and sat mystified at the vividness of the dream and his inability to figure the transition between dream and waking up.
The rock music was playing on full volume and he in its rhythm banging his head and swaying across the room. As he swayed with his eyes half shut, suddenly something caught his attention. At the corner of the room near the bookshelf, a girl in black dress stood by herself quietly, staring at him. He beckoned her to the dance. But she stood there motionless. The song suddenly turned into a kind of carousel music and as he moved to see what changed it, his eyes caught something bright. At the other end of the room in a corner, stood a tall, slender clown, in white and red overalls. His face painted in white with a wide red smile plastered across his face though his eyes were dead and listless. He slowly turned back to his phone to change the track, but it was no longer there, nor the speakers or the bar cabinet on which they lay. It suddenly caught his attention that there was no music, no sound……just silence.
Knock. Knock. Knock
Shook by the knock, he turned around to the sight of the living room now vacant of all its furnishings — only him and the large bookshelf; nothing else. As he stood eyes wide open, people slowly poured into the room, each one staring at him, unblinking. Startled, he steps away and trips
As he looked up frantically, the room was engulfed in darkness. Hastily, he groped on the wall for the switch and turned on the light. He felt exhausted and breathless, beads of sweat trickling down his face and back. He jumped off the bed, opened the sliding doors to the balcony of his room, turned on the TV and sat on the chair watching TV till dawn.
“What’s the matter Kashish?”
“I have had a really bad night”, he responded
“Bad dreams?”
“I guess so though they felt very real”, his voice distant and cold.
“Are you taking your meds regularly?”
“Yes.”
“And off all substance?”.
His labored breathing informed her that he was still on the call, but he didn’t respond.
“Kashish?… What you have described in your audio note to me, sounds like hallucinations.”
“They cant be. I clearly remember leaving the lights and TV on before going to bed, but every time i wake up, the room is totally dark. Even the knocks that i heard, they were real knocks coming from inside the house.”
“Silence does weird things to people — the current times are tough especially if you are alone and quarantined.” No response again, just heavy breathing, she continued, “These knocks, a creaking chair, a loose tile, sound from adjoining house through thin walls — ambient sounds. These sounds probably always existed; you just didn’t hear them in the usual noise. Don’t try to escape them, explore them. You will see they are nothing. Also, please find ways to keep yourself busy, don’t miss your medicines and definitely no alcohol or substance.”
He stared at the view outside from the balcony, and shuffled in irritation.
“Kashish. You’ve been coming to me for six months, you had made so much progress. Be strong!…Don’t pull back now.”
“I am not”, he said while pouring himself a drink.
A bottle of Colin and a box of tissues, he took each piece of crystal artifact and started polishing. For the first time in two months he felt glad for the house to be so heavily furnished. By the time he was done the sun was already setting on the horizon. He stood at the balcony admiring a view that in Mumbai would be impossible for someone at his budget. He was indeed blessed. He sighed in hope that this thought would relieve him of his anxiety.
He shut the balcony door and as he stood in the living room, the silence began to creep in around him again. Memories from the night before flooded in and to distract himself he turned on all the lights and the TV.
A notification pinged on the phone, he had a message from a friend. Straightening his back and shoulders, he turned off the TV and started chatting with his friend.
Many moments later, as the chat waned, he noticed how silent the room was once again. It spooked him. He immediately dropped his phone and rushed to open the balcony doors of his bedroom hoping to let in some sounds from outside. The city under lockdown offered him little, a distant bark of a stray dog and the sound of the wind on a 20th floor apartment. He took a deep breath and quietly chanted “I am fine”, though palpitations in his heart belied him. As he returned to his phone, he experienced a déjà vu, as if he knew what was going to happen next.
Knock Knock Knock
It sounded so mild and distant that he almost wondered if he had just imagined it? He sat still, phone down, breathing shallow and…
Knock Knock Knock
It clearly came from the living room. The knock had become louder, more decisive — as if meant to clear all doubts.
With unsure steps, Kashish walked towards the living room — waiting but not wishing for the knocks to repeat. The house had suddenly gone all still and quiet, no longer could he hear the wind or the dogs. He got to the center of the living room and stood there quietly.
He waited for someone or something to make the next move….and then it did.
Knock Knock Knock
It came from right behind him. He turned around shivering, and was now standing face to face with the bookcase. The knocks were apparently coming in from this 7' X 5' imposing figure crafted of dark cherry wood stocked with old dusty books.
As he stared at the bookcase, his body trembling and heart racing, he took a deep breath and slowly gathered the confidence to touch it. His fingers felt the grainy surface of beaten old wood, the uneven texture from age felt a bit like rough skin of a really old person. As he stood there touching the old bookcase, he felt an unusual sensation at the back of his neck. He tried to make sense of it, only to realize that someone was exhaling a cold deep breath right behind him.
He frantically pressed the elevator button a dozen times but the elevator did not respond. A sinking feeling crept in as he realized that the buttons had been deactivated. He rushed to the emergency exit, only to find it sealed too. There was no escape!
He stood in the hallway, looking into his living room from the door open ajar. Unable to walk towards his apartment, he rushed to the other end of the hallway and rang the bell to the apartment there hoping against hope that it was not vacant. As he stood there for the next five minutes, no one responded. He crouched on the floor staring from afar at the edge of the bookcase through the open main door. Eerily, it felt like the bookcase was staring back at him.
The sound of the intercom from his living room echoed in the hallway, with each ring sounding louder than the one before. He had been sitting in the hallway against the maindoor to the empty apartments at the other end unable to return to his’. Eventually he couldn’t take it any longer and stumbled back towards his apartment. The sight of the bookcase made him dizzy so he looked away and answered the call.
“Kashish. Did you step outside your apartment? This is not a joke young man. Get back inside the house and stay in.”
“Mr Thapar…please….” He struggled to choose his words, “Sirr…there is…some….someone in the house.”
“What?”, he makes an irritated clicking sound with his tongue.
“Caann you please come up and ch..check check the place with me please?”
“Are you crazy? Dude I cannot even come to your floor, let alone your house. And what do you mean someone is in your house? Your floor is sealed off, only the guards are allowed in. Stop these antics. Don’t give me a reason to complain”
Kashish remained dazed for a long while, but when he came back to senses he noticed himself sitting on the floor by the main door. How long had he been there? He looked up at the intercom, did he really speak with Mr Thapar? How did he know he had run out of his apartment, surely they aren’t watching the camera feeds live so late at night? Did he really run out into the hallway? Finally he looked up at the bookcase, standing silent, stately and majestic before him…everything felt so weird that he struggled to distinguish between reality and imagination.
He struggled to garner the strength to walk back to his bedroom. He felt no hunger, no emotion just heaviness and exhaustion….and lots of it. Back in his bedroom, he kept the lights and TV on all night.
Once again, he was suddenly awakened in pitch dark and silence. It took him a few seconds to gain the realization of where he was and with it came the need to turn on the light. Just as he started groping for the switchboard, he heard a sound, something faint, somewhere close….very close. He searched for the switchboard in panic when a pair of cold and damp hands grabbed his feet. Kashish let out a muffled scream….and was shaken awake!
A dream? It felt too real, he could still feel the sensation from the cold grip on his feet. He wiped the sweat off his aching head and realized how hot, stuffy & dark the room was. He groped around for his water bottle, but could not seem to find it. So he reached out to locate the switchboard, but somehow his fingers kept moving around in air not able to reach the wall or the switchboard. Exhausted he got up from the bed to walk towards the balcony door. In the pitch dark of the room, he walked a few steps forward hoping to touch a wall but no matter how much further he went, he got nothing. As he stumbled around in darkness unable to see, feel or sense anything, panic gripped him. He bolted ahead in desperation arms held out, fingers stretching in search for anything familiar, but it felt like he was running through a void. Suddenly, a deep cold breath down his neck….a muffled scream….his knees gave way and he fell.
The main door opened and two men stepped inside
“Who reported this to you Mr Thapar?”
“The guard, he came to drop off the parcel at Kashish’s door, and noticed that the parcel he had left two days ago was still lying outside the door.”
“Anyone in the complex he was close to? Anyone who spoke to him recently?”
“I don’t think so, he just moved in 2 months ago and in any case was not very social. I did have a very short call with him a few days ago. He had basically walked out into the hallway.”
“Why would he do that?”
“No idea”.
“Does anyone live next doors?”
“No. The tenants moved out a few weeks before the lockdown, the apartment has been vacant since.”
“Poor guy so he was alone in this house and hardly had anyone on the floor for even support. This quarantine is turning out to be really tough on people, especially those living alone.”
“The autopsy showed there was alcohol in his blood and he was also under medication, some mental health issue. Probably took an overdose of both, his heart just stopped beating.”
“Poor boy!”
“It would have been nice if he had someone to talk to. Anyway, there is nothing we can do now. Lets go”. The cop stands at the entrance and looks back at the apartment
“Doesn’t look like a single man’s apartment — so much furniture!”
“Oh, that belongs to the previous tenants. They left rather suddenly months ago, and never came back to collect their stuff” responds Thapar.
The cop nodded and left the apartment, Mr Thapar checked on the balcony doors, shut the drapes, gave the apartment one final glance before stepping out.
As he shut the main door, he stopped for a second. Was that the wind or did he hear some sound?
Knock. Knock knock. Knock.