“You can hear it, right?” said the first wall, the one that got the most light from the window. “When they’re not home?”
“They think it’s just ‘house noises,'” said the third wall, where the window was.
“It’s not us,” the first wall said.
The second wall wasn’t so sure. “Sometimes,” it said, “you guys make noise in your sleep. That’s probably what it is.”
“It happens even when three is awake,” said the first wall. The third wall was the one that groaned in its sleep.
“Another talking walls story?” said the fourth wall, the dingiest one with the large crack in it. “The first one was dumb enough.”
“Where is it coming from?” the third wall asked, ever curious.
“The master bedroom closet,” said the first wall. “It’s too dark in there to see usually, and the sounds go away when the tenants open the closet.”
“So what are you thinking?” the third wall asked.
The first wall hummed. “Could be something living there…”
“You can’t be serious,” said the second wall.
“A rat?” asked third.
“Rats don’t make that kind of noise,” first pointed out.
The third wall was intrigued. “What then? A monster?”
“Now I know you’re not serious,” said the second wall.
“Why not?” the fourth wall asked. “There are talking walls. Why not monsters in the closet too? Anything is possible in fiction.”
The other walls ignored four. They always did, as it babbled about fictions and writers and the illusion of agency and other such nonsense. Four was cracked, plain and simple.
“Sometimes,” one said slowly, “I feel something touch me. Something in the closet. Not crawling on me like a rat, but… leaning against me.”
The first three walls shuddered. The house groaned.
“You’ve never mentioned this before,” said the second wall.
“I was worried it could hear me…”
And a whisper said, “I can hear you.” It didn’t come from the walls.
Day 294’s three random writing prompt categories were, “These walls could talk,” “The worst thing to say,” and, “The monster in the closet.”
These talking walls stories amuse me. So there.