The Hidden Room 2

From: Mushmouth (thelickofmyspoon@hotmail.com)
Story type: Ghost
Location: Calgary, Alberta
Source: Form Submission
Date submitted: Mon May 21 07:57:45 2007

Since the discovery of the hidden room, the cat corpses and that putrid stench it became impossible to relax at home anymore. My brother and I were miserable from having to give away our beloved pets and the landlord wasn't answering our calls. This came as no surprise, the apartment already needed a lot of repairs and with the demolition only months away the property wasn't something they were interested in putting money into. Calgary doesn't have a tenant's board and we tried calling the police and putting in a complaint but received no response. This came as no surprise either, its the kind of area where you wait seven hours for them to respond to a 911 call, I guess its because there's no donut shops in the immediate vicinity.

My brother and I desperately wanted to know what was in that hidden room but neither of us would dare to take a gander. We tried to make a shortlist of idiots that would be guillible enough to do it for us. One of the names we came up with was a guy I knew named Clayton. Clayton is the kind of guy you always feel sorry for, he's a bald nineteen year-old with one tooth and nothing going for him, the kind of guy who'll snort a quarter pound of cayenne pepper for two dollars; he's done it before. So anyway, we called Clayton, asked him if he wanted to make an easy ten bucks for a half hour of work and he came running over.

We didn't tell Clayton anything except that we needed him to bag a couple of cats that crawled inside the wall and died. With the prospect of ten dollars on the line he quickly agreed. Our idiot neighbour from upstairs was with us at this point, he was as eager as we were to find out what was in that room. We all waited in the Blood Room while Clayton got ready to venture inside the wall, it turned out Clayton used to be a chimney sweep and was used to doing gross things like this. As he got ready we gave him a digital camcorder, a flashlight, a pair of rubber gloves and a stack of garbage bags. We told him we wanted it documented on film so we could show the landlord. As an added incentive we told Clayton there would be lit cigarette and a cold bottle of Beck's waiting for him when he was all done. We were doing our best not to burst out laughing.

Clayton took the panel off the wall, slid under the pipes and we passed the camcorder to him. We asked him to give us a running commentary of what he saw. He started by mentioning all cobwebs and then went into detail about the bricks boarding it up, something about them being little bricks. It was at that time when the room began to get really cold again. My brother, my neighbour and I quickly came to an executive decision to leave Clayton alone and get out of that room. We told Clayton we were going to have a cigarette in the lounge and got out of there. About halfway through the cigarette Clayton came running out. He had found something that amazed him(apparently there was nothing strange about a load of dead cats), He said there was a bunch of really old packets of McDonalds jam from the 80s in a box, a blue chair in the corner and a six pack of RC cola cans that were still full. He pleaded with us to let him keep the RC colas seeing as they were something he remembered from his childhood.

We told Clayton to take a five minute break while we checked out the camcorder footage on the computer. The camcorder caught the most disturbing images, at least a dozen dead cats all with the eyes rotted out. There was a concrete wall in the back, some litter, plenty of cobwebs, the blue chair he mentioned and what looked like a stack of dirty magazines up against the wall. The area was reasonably big, nearly half the size of the Blood Room but with a low ceiling. After looking at the footage we asked Clayton to finish up bagging the cats and grab the stack of magazines. He looked at us quite puzzled and asked what magazines we were refering to. We cued in the camcorder and pointed out the magazines up against the wall. He said he never noticed them the entire time he was in there or he would have brought them out.

We let Clayton finish his smoke and them went back to the Blood Room. As Clayton slid beneath the pipes he called back to us. He said, "What the Hell; all the bricks are put back and I don't remember doing it." Just after he said that the light in the main bedroom at the far end of the apartment started to flicker, then the computer in the adjoining room suddenly shut off as well. My brother and I instinctively grabbed each other and our neighbour said, "Uh guys, its coming this way." The lights flickered in the lounge while the computer switched back on and then in sequence each of the cupboards in the kitchen opened by themselves. I felt a cold rush of air brush past me, as it did my arms and legs twitched uncontrollably. My neighbour just said, "I outta here!" and took off like a bat out of Hell. The room temperature dropped at least twenty degrees in the blink of an eye and in unison all the cupboard doors slammed shut, really loudly. Just then Clayton asked, "Are you guys sure these cats are dead? I think there's something moving around in here." Instinctively my brother said, "No buddy, its your imagination, you're the only person in there." Clayton responded, "No, I mean in the bag, let me just take a look..." Just then Clayton screamed and screamed and screamed. I could hear a train of footsteps of teenagers galloping down the stairs to come to our aid, its a good thing, I was too scared to move.

A moment later the front door swung open and the apartment filled up with teenagers carrying makeshift weapons, brooms, kitchen knives and that sort of thing. All the time Clayton was screaming like a baby and the room was getting bitterly cold. Just as the mob were about to run into the Blood Room the door slammed on them. I could hear them repeatedly kicking the door and twisting the handle. It was then that the stench of Death returned but this time it was actually worse if you can imagine such a thing. This time it was like the burning musty stench of death, my brother and I were gagging and trying not to puke. The kids outside the door booted the door so hard it actually split down the centre, a few more whacks and it broke completely in half. I looked at them, fifteen or so wannabee gangsters instantly covering their mouths and beginning to topple over from the overwhelming stench.

There was a lot of fumbling around coming from between the walls where Clayton was, he was crying now and begging for his life. Suddenly there was a loud bang and he just went silent. My upstairs neighbour ran in with some other thug and pulled Clayton out from underneath the pipes. They reached in a grabbed his hoodie and dragged him out by it, Clayton wasn't moving, there was blood on his hands and face. My brother and I ran out of the apartment to the crowd of teenagers spitting and trying to vomit on the floor in the outside hallway, everybody was in shock. The too guys brought of Clayton, this time dragging him by his ankles. His left eye has badly cut and he kept blinking it. His face was covered in scratches, the scratches looked like they'd been done by a cat or a whole bunch of cats. His legs were soaked from where he'd pissed himself during the ordeal. I didn't know what to say to him, I went back inside and got his beer and lit him a cigarette. He stared at me and then said, "Just give me my f---ing money." I handed him the ten bucks. He took the cash and pocketed it. He had one sip of the beer and launched it inside my apartment, smashing it on the wall. Then he turned to me and said, "We're not friends anymore, don't ever feel the need to call me again."