“The third house that the realtor showed the Howells that day was right in their price range, had great schools, a nice lawn perfect for barbeques, and a shadowy monster leaning its head against the wall in the master bedroom.”
During the last stream, we wrote one of my unused story ideas.
A few streams back I went over 30 pages of my own unused story ideas, and then I narrowed them down to 10 that I’d like to write. Chat voted on their favorite, and we ended up writing this one together:
A newlywed couple buy a house that has a silent shadow monster leaning its head against the wall in their bedroom.
Here’s what we wrote:
Shadow in the Corner
The third house that the realtor showed the Howells that day was right in their price range, had great schools, a nice lawn perfect for barbeques, and a shadowy monster leaning its head against the wall in the master bedroom.
“So as you can see,” the realtor said, all smiles as she waved the Howells into the room. “The master bedroom includes its own bathroom, complete with shower and tile floor, and—”
“What is that?” Janet demanded, brandishing her shaking hand at the gaseous shadow. It was shaped like a hunchback, made of roiling shadows that drowned the sun’s rays from the skylight.
“Oh, that’s the pre-installed housemate,” the realtor said. Her smile didn’t waver for a moment. “It’s one of the perks that comes with the location, along with the freshly painted picket fence.”
“Wait a minute,” Craig said. “What is a ‘pre-installed housemate?’ Is this place haunted?”
The realtor clicked her tongue as if Craig had just said something inappropriate. “We don’t like to use that term, Mr. Howell. We prefer to say that this room has ‘character,’ or at least, a character.”
“So what is this thing?” Janet asked. “Where did it come from?”
“Oh it just appeared one day,” the realtor said, waving away Janet’s worries. “As to what it is, well, I’d say it is an excellent opportunity for a discerning customer like you to buy a lovely house at a discount! Let’s say… five percent?”
Janet and Craig exchanged glances as the shadow monster banged its head against the wall, making no dents or cracks, but each time exuding a low, otherworldly murmur.
“Can we get rid of it?” Craig asked. The realtor sucked in a hesitant breath.
“Well, we did try to have it removed once, and it didn’t seem to like that. Drove the poor priest to drink. So, I’d say think of it more as a piece of ornamental furniture. An ottoman that you can’t really ever use. A real conversation starter! Anyway, let’s move on.”
The realtor showed Craig and Janet the rest of the house including brand new appliances, top of the line thermostat, re-surfaced cabinetry, and spacious walk-in closets.
“So!” she said, slapping her hands together in the kitchen. “What do you think? Personally, I’d say it’s a steal.”
“It’s all very nice,” Janet said hesitantly. “I love the breakfast nook, but….”
“And you can’t beat the property taxes,” Craig said, rocking his head. “But… let’s just say our approach to housemates is more, well, typically DIY.”
“Six percent discount,” the realtor said in a single breath. Janet and Craig both smiled and nodded in approval.
“It’s a deal!”
***
The first few days of living with the shadow monster, or Kevin as Janet and Craig decided to call it, were undeniably awkward. For the most part they could ignore it as they were unpacking boxes of their old dishes, clothes and furniture, but at night when they tucked into their bed, it was there, rhythmically banging its miasma head against the wall quietly, and emitting its… “contemporary music.”
“At least those groans aren’t as annoying as that neighbor of ours who used to play that goddamn electronic music,” Craig said, snuggling up with his pillow. “Sounded like a squeaky weed whacker if you ask me.”
“And here,” Janet said, holding out her hand with some brightly colored things in it. “Earplugs. Problem solved!”
Before long, Kevin just became a part of their life. A quirk of the house. Like a burner on a stove that you had to remember didn’t work, or a noisy train that passed by twice a day. No big deal at all, really. So long as they plugged their ears at night, and remembered to lock their bedroom door when they had guests over, it was more of a slight inconvenience than a menace.
Then winter came. That “top of the line thermostat” the realtor had raved about wasn’t working, and Craig and Janet had to bundle up indoors in their winter jackets, hats and gloves.
“Do you think Kevin’s okay?” Janet asked one night as the two of them were getting ready for bed, their breaths leaving their mouths as white clouds.
“I mean, isn’t he like pure shadow or something?” Craig said.
“I don’t know. His head banging sounds a bit slower than usual. I’m worried.”
“How about we give him one of our extra hats?”
“Ooh, good idea! I’ll be right back.”
Janet darted out of bed, and was back with the Red Sox woolen hat that was too big for either of them.
But it fit Kevin perfectly. She slid it right over his ethereal bowling ball of a noggin. Maybe it was her imagination, but Kevin seemed to be back to his usual banging rhythm, and emitting a slightly less pained howl.
“I think he likes it,” Janet sang, climbing back into bed.
The next day, she started knitting Kevin a lovely Christmas sweater complete with a malformed reindeer and stars that looked like cat vomit. Right in time for the holidays, she and Craig slipped it over him together.
No longer was Kevin a shadowy monster, he was a dapper Christmas gentleman banging his gaseous head against the wall.
“Do you think we should try to bring Kevin down tomorrow?” Janet asked. “You know, for the Christmas Eve party?”
“Enh, I dunno,” Craig said. “I’m not sure the others would really understand, you know?”
“Well we should at least do something,” Janet said. “I mean, look at him! All dressed up and nowhere to go.”
“How about we tell him a story?” Craig suggested. “Maybe he’d like that.”
“Oh, I know a good one that he’d like,” Janet said, pulling over a chair to sit down next to Kevin. “He keeps banging his head against this wall, working hard for something, whatever it is. Hey, Kevin. Have you ever heard of The Little Engine That Could?”
As Janet recounted the story of the tiny train working so hard to go up the mountain, and then successfully come down the other side, Kevin continued rhythmically banging.
“Chug, chug! Puff, puff,” Janet recanted. “The little train rumbled over the tracks….”
***
As spring came, Craig and Janet dressed up Kevin more appropriately in collared shirts and jeans, then in summer he went full shorts and tank tops. Every now and then they tried coaxing him out of the room, or at least away from the wall, but he was having none of it. He’d just growl, then start banging even more furiously, so after a while they gave up trying.
But Janet kept on reading stories to Kevin. She tried a bunch of others like The Pokey Little Puppy or Henry and the Purple Crayon, but his favorite always seemed to be The Little Engine That Could. His banging just felt more “excited” while she was telling it, in a way that neither Janet nor Craig could easily express.
And Kevin was there when, at night, they discussed whether or not they wanted to bring a kid into the world. People were constantly asking them what their plans were, and they never had an answer for those uncomfortable conversations.
Finally, they decided not to. Sure, it meant there would be no child for them to pass down their love into, no extending of the family tree, but it was the only decision both of them were happy with. Happy but sad at the same time.
Whether or not other people understood, that was their problem. Craig and Janet, they were happy with just each other.
Each other and Kevin.
***
“So as you can see,” the realtor said, all smiles as she waved the young couple into the room. “The master bedroom includes its own bathroom, complete with shower and tile floor, and—”
“What is that?” the wife demanded, brandishing her shaking hand at the gaseous shadow. It was shaped like a hunchback, made of roiling shadows, and it was dressed in a sweater complete with malformed reindeer and stars that looked like cat vomit.
“Oh, that’s left behind from the former residents,” the realtor said. “Before they passed away, they actually left this estate in its name. Kevin, I believe it is?”
“Hmm,” said the husband, cradling their newborn as it began to fidget and cry in his arms. “I’m not sure we want to deal with—”
The baby burst into ear-splitting tears, cutting the conversation short. The husband bounced it and shushed it, but it just grew louder and louder as the wife came over to try and console it too.
And then, Kevin moved.
He shambled toward the crying child, for the first time not emitting his inhuman moan, but a soft coo like a confused dove that grew louder and louder. Eventually it overtook the baby’s cries, and the child quieted, staring up at the Christmas-clad creature in wonder.
“Can I tell it a story?” came a voice from within Kevin that was raspy in an endearing way, like your doting aunt who’s been smoking for fifty years.
“Uh, sure,” the husband said.
“It’s my favorite story,” Kevin said, the sides of his expressionless, gaseous face curling upward. “One my mom always used to tell me. Chug, chug! Puff, puff. The little train rumbled over the tracks….”
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Hope to see you next time, friend!
Featured image: GAHAG