Trembling With Fear 2/19/2023

The Laughing House, by Oliver Baer

There are buildings that have personalities. I’m not talking about the people in them or the interesting architecture which when looked at in a certain light evokes feelings – I’m talking about buildings that literally breathe, move and sometimes even talk. I encountered one such place on one of my late-night rambles. 

These midnight strolls cleared my head and helped me gather the facts of the day. I was feeling good, I was close to an arrest on the drug case I’d been working on for months. Enjoying the summer weather, I decided to take a walk through a part of the city I had never truly explored. It was a balmy night, one of those nights that feel like late spring rather than summer. I weaved my way up the avenue. 

After about 10 blocks, I crossed the street. I felt an icy chill pass me. Strange considering the evening’s weather, I thought. Even stranger still, what heat the evening had intensified in waves. Now my chill turned to sweats as goosebumps dripped beads. The heat waves started forming vague shapes which lashed out at me. I tried running away but they were always in front of me, pushing at me, cornering me, until I shut my eyes and froze right where I was. I reasoned – not unlike most children, for that is what these phantoms had reduced me to – that if I shut my eyes they would go away. How I wish that were true! 

I stood there feeling their cold clamminess press into and around me. A slick patina of sweat mixed with whatever ooze was coming from the heat specters as they pushed, pulled and lifted me in every direction imaginable. I dared not open my eyes to see where I was going. Minutes later, it stopped. As I opened my eyes, I saw that they had shoved and carried me halfway down the block to a building, a ramshackle structure that was imposing in its state of decay squeezed in between two tenement buildings. Its various windows were either broken or boarded up. The windows closest to either side of the building had frames with sagging tops, lidded eyes watching the street below. The roof seemed oddly angled as if it were trying to slide off onto the building next to it. The lower half of its steel door made up of burnt glass blocks, a row of rotten teeth in the edifice’s mouth. A foul wind came from the door, knocking me down. The steps I was on – for you had to walk down to get to the door – fell out from under me. I slid towards the door covering my face and screaming, for I was sure I would go through the glass. Imagine my shock and further terror when not only did the door open by itself but the walls and floor started rippling forwards; I was now floating down the hall towards another door. 

I’m not sure what happened next for it seems too horrible for even Hell itself. As I neared the door at the end of the hallway, the floor wave jerked me up and as I reached its crest the wall reached out to smack me through it. There was a horrid gulping sound, my head snapped, my nerves sang and I saw the stars align in the blackness of space. A rectangle of hazy red light grew until it blotted out the stars. My ears rang with the sound of slams. 

I found myself in a room. I assume it was the one behind the door the ripples had been pushing me towards. There were figures in this room, but some of them weren’t all there and some were there too much. Some of them had parts cut off, others had too many parts, and still others were taking spare parts – unlike anything we know as human – and sticking them onto other figures. It was less of a sticking and more of a stabbing despite the gelatinous substance being mixed with the blood welling up around the part being affixed to the poor soul’s body.  Others were having parts amputated and then put in a separate pile from the inhuman parts. Their distorted cries were met with an attempt at speech from one tormented soul to another. 

I struggled to leave, to get away from this infernal body part swap I was thrust into. My legs held fast to the floor. I leaned down, hands clasped around one leg and pulled. There was a ripping sound, a feeling of tearing flesh and one leg was freed. A quick check seemed to indicate it was still attached, but when it reached out to step, it was so wobbly I nearly fell on my face. As I righted myself, the misshapen figures took the opportunity to surround me, sticking out attached parts in infernal greeting. A glass was shoved into my hand. It held a dark viscous liquid that gleamed with a light that came from I knew not where.  A hand that was not a hand but a multitude of tendrils pressed the glass to my mouth. As the tendrils neared my face, I tried to move my head and body away from its mass to no avail. I tried to scream as I noticed the eyes and mouths on the end of alternating stalks. The sound was reduced to gurgles as the liquid from the glass passed my lips. A metallic tang mixed with saltiness coated my tongue. I heard the stalk mouths whispering, “The parts are infused now. We can begin.”

The walls of the room undulated and I heard a chittering sound coming from inside them – was the house laughing at me? Its glee ricocheted around me in a staccato rhythm. Flashes of light danced to the beat of laughter. The strobe and sound increased to such intensity my nerves were an opera. My brain numbed itself to the onslaught. A darkness overtook me. A skyscape of eyes peered sightlessly down at me, the limbs that protruded from some of their lids flopping up and down as they blinked in time. Mouths resounding with hysteria formed a warped quadrilateral that moved towards me. Then I was back on the street with the summer sun shining on my face. I got up and went on my way. An image of myself with multiple spines floats through the mist that is now my mind. Did I take part in the fiendish activities of the night before? Is that what happened when I lost consciousness? I seem to have only one spine now so perhaps that was just a residual from the drink they thrust upon me. It probably had a hallucinatory effect and I’m still reeling from it. The brightness of the day burned the path back home for my hazy mind.

The next day, the jangling of the phone matched my nerves. Not the start I wanted or needed. It was the precinct; I was called to a sight that gave me pause. A pause that sends chills up one’s spine. 

There was a report of a disturbance at the corner of the street I was on last night. I approached the site; there was a large explosion followed by an unearthly scream and a loud thump as something flew by me. It was a head; its eyes wide and mouth agape in recognition. I cursed and rubbed my eyes. This can’t be. 

Upon arriving at the scene, I saw only rubble and pieces of what I thought were twisted metal instead of the house. I tried to question people in the area as to the source of the explosion, but no one was seen going into the structure or coming out. I started to pick my way through the rubble; I saw then that what I thought were pieces of twisted metal were not metal at all. They were pieces of human beings shaped into supporting structures and strengthened in much the same way as carbonized steel. One beam had branches coming off it. Upon closer inspection, these branches were made from spines. At one point, there was a shift in the rubble near me and a shadow stretched forth towards me. As it touched me, I felt a clamminess and a fell whispering in my mind. I jerked myself away, stumbled over the rubble and raced back towards the avenue in terror.

I cannot tell you what horrors it related to me in that moment. But I swear it is still around looking for a way to make itself whole. Looking for something that will complete it. Looking for a place that it can hole up until it can enact its terrible revenge. I can tell you that it laughed at me just like the house did last night. So be careful where you walk at night and take note of the houses on the street. They may hunger for more than your company.