Shadow On The Eyes

Mental Excuses

Heading towards the shed to check it out, I called the real estate woman, but unfortunately, the signal was still a bust.

Opening the shed door, I got the simplest scare I’d ever had. A cat, fat from field mice, came running out, throwing a hiss my way. I almost fell back as I yelled in surprise.

“Damned cat.”

I looked around to make sure he’d gone, and I didn’t see him.

The shed was one of those old metal sheet sheds, half rusted with chicken wire windows. When I looked in, it wasn’t any more significant in size than the common bathroom.

Rusted rakes and hoes with broken wood sat covered in web and bug carcasses. There was a blue, dusty old milk crate and some garden tools in a plastic bucket that’d seen better days. On the back side of the shed was a wooden shelf holding an old red metal toolbox of some sort of dirty white ball. It might have been a softball ball, but I didn’t step in to check. 

Instead, I closed the wooden door and walked over to the tiny house. It only had six windows which told me the bedrooms might each have at least one window. 

I tried both the widows in the front, but they were secure, so walking back around to the side where it faced the driveway, I tried that one, but it didn’t budge either. The two on the back of the house also didn’t move, so the last one facing the woods had to move, or I was seriously going crazy.

The ground level dipped on that side, so I had to climb up the cellar's frame to reach it. I was able to climb up the metal doors, using one of the handles as my footing, and then pushed off, grabbing the outer lip of the window ceil.

Once I had both hands on it, I steadied myself and let go with one hand as I tried pushing the glass upwards with my palm with the other. The window moved.

I stopped after it went a few inches up, and the smell of bleach, paint, and something rancid hit my nose. I coughed, almost losing my balance but held on. Lowering my head to listen, the house was silent, so I pushed the window all the way up. The windows had tinted glass, so I didn’t have to screw with the blinds as I tried climbing in. 

I tried not breathing through my nose, but when I did again, the rancid smell and bleach were gone. Just the smell of paint lingered.

I realized the size of the room wasn’t inadequate, plus it was hardwood. 

I noticed a big dark stain in the wood towards the closet. I figured it might have been a kid’s room. Kool-Aid stains are a bitch to get out of wood.

I explored the rest of the house as the wood kept creaking under my feet. It was tolerable, but the sound could get old really quick. 

There was a bathroom directly across from the room I was just in and another bedroom next. So I looked at the bathroom first. 

Sludge had backed into the tub, so the sewage probably needed to be pumped. The rest of the bathroom was old fashioned, medicine cabinet type mirror. It had no window, but I noticed the exhaust fan switch.

I checked out the other bedroom. It was only slightly larger and had a few more stains on the wood. Maybe carpet was something to think about.

The living room was small, and the kitchen was something seriously lacking. Besides having only 4 cupboards, it had enough counter space for a coffee pot and microwave.

There was a fridge jammed into the corner next to the stove. I opened it, it was old but clean, there was no electricity so I couldn’t tell if it worked. It was probably the source of that rancid smell from earlier. Previous tenants probably left and didn’t clean it out, meaning summer in this place, with no electricity, left the fridge pretty ripe smelling.

The kitchen connected to a small area only big enough to put a four-seater table. That area sat by the back glass door. I realized the place needed some work, especially all the tint on the widows. It made me feel like I was in a black box. That’d be the first shit I’d tear down.

I walked back a couple of steps into the living room and looked around, it didn’t dawn on me before, but something was weird about the walls. The closer I got, the easier it was to tell what I was seeing. There were slight rolls in the walls.

“What the fuck?”

I ran my hand over the living room wall and then came to a conclusion, “Logs,” I said it out loud because I was almost sure of it. I walked quickly to other rooms and checked. The rolling bumpiness was only in the living room. 

Someone had done a shitty job trying to cover up the fact that the walls were made of logs. I knocked on the wall to check, but suddenly a knock responded. It came from one of the bedrooms behind me. I stood there frozen. No one was in here with me. There was no place I didn’t check. 

I heard the light knock again and turned around. I could see into the one bedroom I came in. The widow was still open. Maybe someone crawled in after I did, and I didn’t hear them.

The floor creaked under my feet as I slowly walked toward the bedrooms. I stopped halfway, waiting, listening to see if the knock came again. After a few seconds and nothing, I started walking slowly again. Another knock never came as I looked in the bedrooms and bathroom.  

“Fuck, you're seriously losing your mind, Sam.”

I shook my head but felt better talking to myself. 

Deciding I’d leave through the front door, I went back to the open bedroom window and closed it, locking it. I realized I didn’t see a way to the cellar in the place, so maybe it was just an outside access only. 

I closed the bedroom door and noticed a sliding lock on the outside. I was starting to think this place was a bit creepy, but I’d seen worse on Tv. 

Once I had the front door locked after I left, I almost felt relieved to be out of there. I think it was the tinted windows that kept me from appreciating the small place. Also, finding out the walls in the living room were initially logs made more sense why it came up on recommended listings for me. It was probably originally a tiny log cabin before additional rooms were added.

I got in my truck and left. The sound of a window shutting and the knocking stayed on my mind until I decided the knocking was probably just a woodpecker. There are trees around, after all. As for the window, I could have easily mistaken the sound. Maybe that stray cat yawned or something. Regardless, I wanted to get back to the cheap motel and research the place.