Witness

If walls could talk, what would they share with you? Would they tell tales filled with joy, love, and beauty - or would they be darkened by death and disaster? Perhaps a little of everything, or even nothing at all. I can’t speak for everyone, but - by some miracle, or perhaps a curse, I still can’t understand - I can speak for myself. I am the internal eastern wall on the main floor of a private home in Nevada. Humans always say they wish they could be a fly on the wall in certain situations. Just imagine if you were the wall itself. You’d hear and see so much more. Here are two of my stories.

The Other Woman

It was a lovely day in May, and a warm breeze gently played across me as it flooded the house through my one window. The air smelled of flowers and salt from the ocean, blowing in across California. Most people may say you can’t smell the ocean from a state away, but I can. It’s a familiar scent to me, I recognize it from when some of my pieces were harvested from closer by.

The front door popped open and in walked a man - Travis - the first owner of the newly built home to which I belonged. It was still just the afternoon, he was home much earlier than expected, but I was glad to see him. I was lonely on the days where Travis was at work and his new bride - Bianca - was out and about. Bianca was an interior designer so she worked from home - and of course that meant that the entire home was beautiful! She was pregnant now - six months, I had heard her say, and this afternoon she was out shopping for baby supplies.

Travis shook his head and chuckled to himself, noticing Bianca had left the windows open again, as she often did. “To let the house breathe!’ she would say. I knew Travis thought that was ridiculous, but I appreciated it. I’m sure the rest of the house did too, but I wasn’t sure if the rest was alive like me. I never received an answer when I asked.

I had watched Travis and Biana share a beautiful life together for the last two years. They had spent many sleepless nights planning their wedding, and even more decorating a new nursery for the baby. Bianca adored Travis, I could see, and they had a happy relationship. At least - I thought as much. Until this day.

Travis turned around and waved someone into the house. Excitement shot through me at the thought that perhaps Bianca was home. This was my family and I loved to have them home. Instead of Bianca - a petite, short, blonde with brown eyes and a beautiful thin face - another woman I had never seen before walked in behind him.

This woman was taller than Bianca, her hair short and dark, with almost black eyes. There was something unsettling about the grin spreading across her thin lips. She took in the room, and seemed pleased with what she saw.

“Beautiful, isn’t it, Mel?” Travis asked. Behind him, Mel stood eyeing Travis with what I could only describe as hunger. She kicked her foot out behind her, slamming the door shut, and flung herself into Travis’s arms.

“So beautiful. Lets… Rough it up a bit.” She bit her lip and winked at Travis.

Their lips met and they fell onto the couch, tangling around each other as they scattered clothing all across the room without a care. I looked away and tried to shut out the sounds of the couch scratching against the floor, Travis’s grunts, and this strange woman’s moans. I wished I couldn’t hear a thing. They moved from the couch to the soft, plush area rug, where Travis slid on top of Mel. Their moaning grew louder, until it was impossible to tune out.

I cringed, ashamed that I could hear them. An anger started to grow within me and I almost shouted out for them to stop. Until I spotted Bianca coming up the walk, towing behind her a wagon loaded with the result of her shopping spree. A panic overwhelmed me at the thought of what poor Bianca was about to walk into, but I was powerless to stop it. Shouting out at them would do nothing helpful, not really.

Binaca flung the door open and stopped dead in her tracks. She dropped the wagon handle and gasped. Travis and Mel heard the gasp, and both looked in her direction. I expected them to stop, to panic, to try and defend themselves. From the look on her face, Bianca expected the same. Neither of us were given that courtesy as Travis shrugged and continued to dive deeply into Mel, as she scratched her fingers down his sides and loudened her moaning - as if to make sure Bianca understood which of them had Travis. Bianca turned and ran to the car. She peeled out of the driveway without looking back.

Travis lived here with Mel for several more years before coming home to her in the same predicament with another man. Those years were full of screaming and fighting, even physical fights between the two.

I never saw Bianca again. I think about her often, and hope she and the child are well. In all those years, the baby was never once in the home.

The Earthquake

The house shuddered violently - cinder blocks from the foundation cracked and crumbled, shingles snapped loose and plummeted to the ground below. Windows shattered, spraying glass out into the grass, as well as inward across the hardwood floors. Huge cracks spread from the floor, up the walls, to the ceiling of the main floor, scattering bits and pieces of drywall everywhere. A wind whipped up within the house, as if a tornado was about to touch down, creating a dangerous whirlwind of debris. I watched in horror as the house seemed to pull apart around me.

The flooring directly beneath me rumbled. The edges of the wood splintered, snapped, and a crack appeared, running straight towards me. At first the split was thin, shooting up my full height. As the house continued to shake, the crack grew larger, a searing pain burned through me. I screamed as my drywall pulled apart, hearing my internal wires snapping and whipping. Suddenly everything just stopped.

In shock, I observed the home I was a part of. Everything was torn and scattered. Absolute devastation. Two walls from the room were entirely gone. I wondered if the rest of the house had felt what I felt as I had cracked - or perhaps they had felt more, worse pain. I was overwhelmed with a sense of sadness and had I been able to shed tears, I would have begun and never stopped.

I called out, asking if anyone else had survived. No response. Again and again I screamed out for someone, to find someone else alive. There was again no response. Sorrow swelled like it had never before. I was entirely alone. The sole survivor of this incredibly destructive event. There was no fixing the house. It would be too much. The only option would be full demolition, if anyone ever returned. The house had been vacant, no owners cared about it, therefore no owners would care about me. There would be no fixing us up. We were gone. Dead. The only options left were a wrecking ball, or waiting until I decayed. All I could do was sit here, alone, and wait.

I still stand, a few years late. Still alone. No one has come back to fix me. Sometimes, curious adventurers enter the house to look at the wreckage. Everyone has deemed the house unfixable. Sometimes I speak and frighten the visitors - who naturally assume a ghost is present. I’ll give it to them that a ghost does make more sense than the truth. Anyway - those are some of my stories. I appreciate you listening. It’s been so long since I’ve been able to truly speak and feel heard, rather than feared. Thank you.