If these walls could talk

A clanking sound echoed off the plane of glass reaching the ears of two teenagers standing on the outskirts of the property of an old, abandoned house. The taller of the two held in his left hand a small collection of small pebbles of varying size, shape, and color. With the other he would pluck them from his small pile and chuck them at the house with wild abandon.

“Come on man, what if someone sees us?” The other teen said as he constantly looked around them, they were in a quite part of the neighborhood where there was hardly any traffic. If you asked anybody the houses looked like they belonged on a magazine from the 1950’s highlighting a new development save for the effect of the passage of time that had showed the neighborhoods age. Many of the houses look like they have been lived in for a long time. Some even showing the impact of modern life with small dishes mounted to the roofs to pick up satellite tv.

“Do not worry, no one will notice us. This place is dead.”

               He picked up another pebble and chucked it against the house that had been derelict for the past ten years. Flora had run amuck around the property with God only knows what bugs and small creatures now calling it home.

               “Bill, you know what they say about this place, they say old man Charlie went nuts and offed himself in that place and I know Jen, Todd and Mark have all seen weird things happening in there, like lights randomly turning on after the power was disconnected years ago.”

               Bill brushed off the idea as nonsense and tossed a few more pebbles. “Oh, John you are the most easily scared person I know, that’s why I can hardly get you watch The Thing.” John straightened his stance as he defied that accusation. “Hey, a man’s head splitting open can be a bit frightening okay, it looks so realistic and…” He shudders before he can continue the sentence. “I don’t even want to think about it, now can we please go now?” he begged his long-time friend.

               Ever since they were kids, the two would always make a small adventure out of exploring derelict houses and buildings. Often finding an unlocked window or door to explore the premises. In their young naivety, they would often place two stones inside of a house and it moved it proved the house was haunted. Nothing ever came of those tests except a few times with Bills older sister would sneak in while they we are paying attention and move the rocks.

“Just one more” He bent down and picked up a larger rock about the size of an egg and hurled it at the house with all his strength and thought he was aiming for the roof but instead the clash sound of breaking glass rattled the two as they stood there. John then bolted for it in fear of being discovered for vandalizing the house.

Bill, however, only just briefly scanned the area around him for a sign of someone coming to find out the commotion. When no one appeared he ventured forward to the house, much to his friend’s dismay who had gotten a few yards before looking back to see Bill walking toward the house.

               “Bill” said John trying to keep his voice from being heard by the neighbors “Bill” he tried again but to no avail. Sighing in defeat he rushed to catch up with him. “Come on, this isn’t funny we can’t go in there.”

               Upon examining the break, Bill could see it was near the window latch and reached in being careful not to touch the broken edges of the glass. With a small click the window was unlocked. And ever so gently he pushed the window open and when he leaned his head in, he was soon met with the musty smell of a house that had been sitting for years. The air was stale and warm as he crept inside the house. Glass fragments cracked and broke under his weight as he stepped inside.

               He was soon followed by John and once inside the house they began to explore the ruin. Despite the rumors of what goes on in the house, it was well known that a man named Charlie used to live here but one night policed were called to the residence and he was never seen again. Realtors would often try in vain to sell the house, but none would ever take the offer so with that it has sat all these years never touched. Reaching the living room, they saw the aftermath of what appeared to be a fight of some kind.

               Furniture lay strewn about the room, having been knocked over and a couple pieces of furniture were broken and lay in a heap on the floor. John jumped back when he saw traces of blood on the floor and wall and Bill rolled his eyes a little.

“Relax man, your gonna have a panic attack at this rate.”

“And who’s fault would that be then I wonder” John countered his statement.

               The duo turned down the hallway, cast in shadow and so Bill produced his phone and turned on the light to look around. Everything else was unassuming like nothing dramatic happened. Soon they came to a door and Bill gently opened the door to reveal the master bedroom. Stepping inside the room they noticed it was not thrashed like the living room had been but one could hardly tell with the littering of old food wrappers and empty cups leaving them to wonder how Charlie could live like this.

               Something soon drew the attention of Bill as he glanced over and saw an armoire, he guessed was thirty years old at least. Curiosity got the better of him, approached the old wardrobe, and opened the doors to see only clothing and then proceeded to open the drawers one by one. The last one yielded something of note and inside he could see what looked like a false panel when the light hit it exactly right. Pulling the panel back he saw something and picked it up. It could see it was thick stack of papers held together by one sturdy ring binder.

Examining it closely he could see what appeared to be a title and read it.

“Emperors and Kings” He read aloud “Hmm why does that sound familiar?” he asked no one in particular. John thought for a moment swearing he heard that title somewhere and took out his phone and did a quick search.

“Bill, who does it say it was written by?” he asked as he looked carefully at the screen of his phone.

“Um some guy named Charlies Harper, why?” John put his phone away to get a look at the manuscript and brushed his fingers over the cover page. He could hardly believe what he was seeing before him.

“What is it?” Bill asked, wondering what had John acting so weird, he had known his friends to be obsessed with very obscure things and he figured this had to be one of them. John looked up at Bill with a look of amazement on his face. “Charles Harper was a famous writer in the sixties wrote a plethora of books.”

“Plethora?” Bill asked perplexed by the word which earned a sigh from John.

“He wrote a lot of books, but it was always said when he never finished his last book and went mad before he could finish it. Was Charlie the famous writer this whole time?” he asked, not expecting an answer from Bill.

               John reached out with both hands toward Bill. “Can I see it?” he asked as Bill handed it to him and so he began to skim through the pages of the manuscript. “I wonder if this is the book that drove him mad.”

“Then you shouldn’t be reading it” said Bill as he tried to take it back from John, but he did not give it up.

“I won’t read it, but we should take this to some professionals to authenticate it and if it is it, then maybe we would have helped solve a sixty-year-old mystery” he said as a smile crossed his face as he rushed out of the room with the manuscript soon followed by Bill shouting for him to wait up but John’s excitement had giving him renewed vigor which could only be sated by learning the truth. They had left the house in the same way they found it, evidence of a scuffle in the living room but nothing elsewhere. Perhaps they would find a clue to his madness in last writing.