Noises From Above

Nights were the worst to begin with, even they however used to be silent in a time that feels so long ago, but where only a few short weeks have passed since the first. I can barely remember a period where I wasn’t lying awake in my bed listening to odd noises coming from the floor above me.

                The first instance has now faded into my memories as all things do with time and with a benign ignorance I subconsciously held it at bay, now though I wish I had acted sooner and fled this place before things got worse as they now have.

                I will begin by setting the scene on the evening of September thirteenth — which of all days was a Friday, I recall — I had curled up in bed, the night was unpleasantly colder than any that had led up towards this particular evening.

                For some reason other than the horrid pressing cold, I could not purchase any sleep. Even holding my eyes closed with my hands, the numbness of oblivion that I sought would not arrive. The clock in my room chimed mutely and as the clunking hammer’s blow rang into silence, I heard a soft banging coming from somewhere above my room.

Tap, tap, tap…

To my slumber deprived mind, it sounded like footfalls on a floor blanketed in a heavy layer of dust. What heightened my concern, however, is that there was no tenant in the room above and from what I remember, there hadn’t been for some time. I shrugged it off to rats, and resumed in my attempts once again to catch hold the sleep that so frustratingly eluded me.

Tap, tap, tap…

                At this point the noises became heavier as though someone was running backward and forward on the bare wooded floor of the vacant room, and against my better judgement I decided to leave my room, it was much too late to be making such a racket.

                As I rose from the bed I could hear the footsteps quickening in speed then climaxing with a hard thud, a vision  flooded to me of children playing “run-jump”, a simple game, each player would take it in turns to run three paces, before springing into the air as high as you could, and whomever jumped the highest won.

                As I left my room the sounds became muffled but there was no dispute, they were still there. It appeared none of my fellow residents of the boarding house had been disturbed by the same noises as the landing outside my room was empty. I moved quietly on, looking upon the solitary door the stood at the top of the stairs.

                I drew myself up towards it and pressed my ear against the portal, the sounds continued and I chose to act, knocking softly at first, I rapped upon the wood three times, it was met by silence, the noises had stopped! Yet there no other response to my presence. I knocked once more slightly harder the second time and the door opened on its own.

                The room that was revealed was indeed empty and I believed that the door merely opened by the force of my knocking. perhaps it had not been locked by the landlord I convinced myself, there was no other possible reason that came to mind.

                Other than I, there was nobody there and no evidence to suggest there had been for a long while.

                Debating my sanity, I closed the door making sure the latch clicked, I even went as far to test my weight against the door and this time it did not budge; I made a mental note to inform the landlord when I saw him next, and made my way back to my quarters, sleep came suddenly when my head met the pillow.

The night that followed was a peculiar one I found myself waking around three o’clock in the early hours, I was in a stupor, but could tell that the footsteps had not restarted since the previous night. Instead, a different noise awoke me, yet still it came from the vacant residence above.

                The noise unsettled me as it drew associations in my mind of a macabre kind. The sound, you see, was that of a blade being sharpened, I could hear the drag of the whet stone wearing away at the steel. As each soft swipe of the stone trickle in through my ceiling, fear pimpled my flesh in a way that it resembled the skin of a freshly plucked goose and I found myself frozen upon my bed. As brave as I had been the previous night, I was reluctant to interrupt this new activity. For I was overcome with anxiety of a potential violent reaction.

                As I drank up the courage, my mind screamed out in protest as I drew myself from my bed and crept carefully over to the door of my abode. The sound ceased the moment my foot found a particularly creaky floorboard, several inches from my door and they did not recur again that night.

                Several more nights passed by with the same sounds, one night the footsteps, the next the sharpening. It was almost as if there was a recording playing above me. Would that be so silly to presume?

                Every night I would remove myself from bed and every night I would creep towards the door and every night the squeak of a floorboard would silence the clamours. Only on the third night that a new sound added into the mix, the sound of something heavy being dragged across the floor boards, based on the noises prior my brain conjured up the image of a heavy axe head being drawn over them, I cursed that my mind added the detail that the blade was drenched in blood and the steady prickle of dread ran once more across my entire body.

                This sound started while the sky was still light out and continued well into the night as though the unseen tenant was pacing backwards and forwards waiting for something, but what? I told myself no matter what, that I would not return to the room and I kept that promise until today.

                I will also add that what I thought of as a friendly game of children playing Run jump is far from what was actually happening above it seems the entity residing in the room on the top floor was building to something, and that the heavy sounding thud which followed the sound of running running footsteps, was the fall of an axe so meticulously sharpened.

                The nights wore on with more of the same and on occasion I could hear voices speaking in a tongue I have never heard before, it’s tone unpleasant and foreboding; while conversing with a friend inside my room he also heard the voices and before I had time to explain to him he had promptly fled from the property.

                When I spoke to him about his reasons for leaving in such a hasty manner he muttered something about hearing “The words of the Devil,” walking away from me in a way that suggest I was wrought with some form of contagious ailment.

                I pondered his words that night over a cold ale at the nearby public house, I had no intention of returning to my room, that evening and was hoping that the landlord would allow me to curl up on one of the many couches in the bar area, but I was not so lucky, and upon my return the resident from above started up its incessant racket once more.

                The voices spoke again and I took the liberty of putting them to paper for me to translate in the morning when I was up and the town library was open, when I awoke, however, my jottings had vanished and the faint odour of human excrement hung on the air, but that was not all... I found that my door was open and when I entered the hallway outside so too was the door to the room above, the scent of filth was much more prominent here too.

For a fleeting instant, I glimpsed something creep around the edge of the door’s frame: a hand of the blackest nature, fingers elongated and inhuman in size and sharp, each crowned with pointed claws, a trait like nothing I knew that walks this very earth. The prior conversation with my friend took sudden precedence in my mind. Could it be that the devil had taken up residence in the chamber above my own?

I informed the Landlord that I had suspicions someone may have broken into the topmost room and he said he will investigate... when he arrived we found the door closed and even more concerning it was locked. I waited in my own room listening to the Landlord’s muffled footfalls as he moved around, looking in every niche and hideaway in the property.

                His footsteps continued above or so I supposed when he spoke from behind me, causing me to jump in fright, he advised me the room was empty and he had locked the door behind him as he left, but he insisted I was to call him immediately if I heard anymore; I advised that I would and he disappeared from sight; I would also like to note that as he departed his footsteps were exceedingly light and it was as if they made no sound at all.

               

That was the last time I saw my Landlord and when I called him later that evening to advise of further activity and noises from above, I received no response. I took a mental note of a particular word that reached me through the ceiling uttered in the same low rumble: “Pazuzu,” even though the word meant little to me it still caused my skin to crawl discordantly.

I shut my eyes wishing for a reprieve from what was now a cacophony of sounds that echoed from that dratted occupant that should not be.

                The morning came as sleep never had and the noises continued, I crawled from my room and left the building to research that word the struck me so rancorously the eve before.

                It was not easy to locate and the transcripts I found any reference to were in a book christened ‘Biblia Immortalitatus,’ which upon further scrutiny I deciphered as ‘Bible of immortality,’ a rather vile book which methodically teaches one how to open a gateway to hell; a ritual in which one would be able to bring the devil effectively into the realm of the living, unleashing hell on earth. Why anybody would want to enact is such a vile ritual I fathom to understand, yet it is my belief that somebody had indeed started the rite and whoever it was, was doing it directly above me as I slept — or tried to at least.

                As I read a sense of revulsion rose within me it turned out that the word I sought ‘Pazuzu,’ was the name of a demon, not just any old demon, Pazuzu is referred to as ‘apertor Portae,’ the opener of the gate. I forced myself to read further trying to see if there was anything else I could relate to what I had experienced, maybe I would even find a counter ritual to put a stop to what may just about be the end of the world as we know it.

               

Equipped with the new knowledge I had obtained from the Biblia Immortalitatus I returned to the door to the chamber upstairs finding the door once again unlocked, the portal swung open and I gagged as the room beyond was revealed.

                Even prior to the opening of the door I could smell something from the landing below providing me with further misgivings the room had transformed since I last laid eyes upon it, it was no longer empty. The source of the smell became quickly apparent, the remains of my landlord lay about the room and I immediately realised he had never left the premises the previous evening. What I had seen of him leaving was in fact a departing soul.

                His entrails had been removed, the intestines used to create a large symbol upon the dusty wooden floor, his hands and feet were placed carefully at each point of a star that resided in the centre of a large circle.

                At the centre of the pentagram sat the heart which in my now disorientated state seemed to still be beating; it was only then that I saw the creature at the furthermost point of the pentagram; had I been able to, I would have fled immediately, but something held me to the spot.

                I felt the warmth of my groin as my bladder voided its contents, the beast before me made a sound that seemed to convey enjoyment as it lowered the item it held in its claw-like hands to the floor. Its eyes, blank and staring were coated in the milky-grey film of death.

                The creature before me, drew itself to its full height exposing its body which seemed to devour any light that shone upon it, I was struck by a sudden awe of the grotesque image before me; its skin seemed to melt from off of its body yet hang there like a ghoulish blanket, I would have screamed had my paralyses not taken sway of my senses.

                My eyes were drawn to a glint of light near the floor, the beast was holding an axe, a terrifying extension to its deformed hand.

Before I could even think to react, it crossed the room in three heavy strides, the axe rose and fell, striking the floor at my feet.

                It missed! I thought, until I felt a weight shift above my navel, movement was granted to my neck as I looked down at my torso in time to see my own insides spill from within; A childish game of Run-Jump, were the final thoughts that entered my mind... If only it were…