Excerpt from The Stairwell Listens
“How many floors does this stairwell have?”
“What?” I answered, surprised by the strange question.
“How many… floors… does this stairwell have?”
“Twelve, it’s always had twelve,” I responded, concerned now that this woman may have drunkenly stumbled into my apartment building.
“You’re a liar,” the woman spat, sudden rage filling her voice.
“E-excuse me?” I stuttered, taken aback.
The woman didn’t respond, she simply turned her head downward.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
She tilted her head, ever so subtly, to the door that led to the roof beyond the stairwell. I looked at it. Painted in a simple, white font was the number thirteen.
I hadn’t had reason to come to the top floor before, but I knew the building was twelve stories tall. Startled, I quickly reasoned that the number was a mistake. I glared at the woman, unsure of what she might do and quickly retreated down the steps.
“Well, goodbye then,” I said, hurriedly. I made my way back down. One flight. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six… Seven. I reached the sixth floor, sweating and tired. I was ready to call it a night. I stumbled up to the door, the faintest sound of crying below me. I tried to turn the handle of the door, but it wouldn’t move. I tried again, pushing against the door.
The door was locked.
I was beginning to feel uneasy. I could hear somebody carefully walking on the steps above me. Was the woman following me? I felt oddly claustrophobic, as if the walls were examining me. Listening carefully to my labored breaths.
I reasoned that someone must have foolishly locked the door when they came home. I hurried down to the floor below me. The fifth floor would have access to the stairwell on the other side of the building. Surely the sixth floor would be unlocked on that side. And surely there would be no woman and crying child. But just as before, the door was tightly sealed.
My mind bubbled, I couldn’t tell if I was hallucinating or not. Had I pushed myself too hard? Maybe I was having a heart attack. I quickened down the floors, trying every door as I went. All were locked.
I reached the first floor only to discover a disquieting change had occurred. The paint on the walls was chipped off, the steps were cracked, and the floor in front of the door was blackened. It was as if a bomb had gone off without me noticing. I didn’t remember it being like this when I came down before. It had never been like this before today. Was I remembering things incorrectly? The cries of the girl seemed to echo around me but there was no source.
Everything felt wrong. Time itself felt unreal. Was I standing in this stairwell for minutes? Hours? The world around was echoing with the sounds of the little girl and… something else.
It sounded like the walls were breathing.