Behind The Plaster by M_S_Miller at Inkitt

Behind the Plaster

I have a problem.

I like games. I mean, I really like games. So much that it’s hard to find people to play with.

But when I do…

I have a problem.

Do you like hide and seek?

I do. I love it.

But people keep losing.

LOVE.

What does it mean to “seek”?

Well, the real question is, “who”—as in who wants to be “it”. Sure, being “it” is pretty damn swell, but being able to hide while someone else gets to “seek”?

That is the recipe to a tantalizing experience.

Experience.

Like eating a blue-rare steak. Like a child’s first snowfall. Like—a first kiss.

It’s tantalizing.

And that’s why I LOVE hide and seek. Being caught is always a surprise—it’s always…an experience.

I have a…

~~~

I had just left the book store on a rather normal Tuesday afternoon. There really isn’t much worth my time coming out these days, but that’s not why I was there. I was in the middle of the most intense game of hide and seek yet, and it almost came to a very anticlimactic end. It’s a good thing bookstores are so quiet. Loud places tend to make the game unpalatable, and the key to a good session is patience. The best part of the game, after all, is almost being caught, and the seeker always finds their mark.

What makes this game even better are the clues the hider inadvertently leaves for “it”, or the bait set out for the hider to find. So those cute little breadcrumbs led us from the popular store in Midtown to a small sandwich shop in a sketchy area. After some close calls with the locals and almost being caught myself, we made it home.

She rummaged through her purse.

Ziiiiip.

Jingle.

Jingle.

Then she jimmied her key into the door’s lock. Her bright, copper-toned hair bounced around as she kept yanking at the door. She was struggling with the stubborn doorknob, and I hung back from the bus stop across the street, scrolling on my phone. When I looked up, she was already gone. My heart raced. I thought she’d finally found me.

~~~

Finding a good hiding spot isn’t about not being caught. It’s about the surprise when you are. Getting inside wasn’t a challenge. Nor was finding a good spot to set up shop.

I wasn’t worried about the old service hatch under the main stairs being sealed. I’ve been coming here for a little while.

So I sat in place, listening to the walls whisper, with dust sprinkling down from the studs and joists I waited between. There’s something…relaxing about these old spaces. Is it the smell of dust? The splintered studs? Old rock-wool insulation? I can’t put my finger on it, but it made for the perfect spot. And there was just enough room for me to slide between my plaster and timber shell. I only had to be careful.

Careful…

Careful...

Changing positions was as simple as waiting for her to do anything, and opportunities were in no short supply. With my thin frame and sneaky hands, I could slither between all the old, heavy pipes, rusty bent nails, and loops of wire. I could narrowly miss the mice scurrying about. I just needed to be patient.

And then my chance came.

A pipe on the far end of the wall clattered against its ties, and more dust fell around it. A few seconds later, light bled through pinholes in the wall. I slid over to the spot, then felt around for a dime-sized seam with a push pin stuck in the middle. I pinched the tiny hardware to my mini-door, and pulled it free. A golden column of light pierced through the darkness. She stepped into view, wearing earbuds while wrapped in a towel.

“Quincy…stop it. That’s not funny!”

She’s talking to someone.

She pulled some of her plush, red hair behind her ear.

“There’s no way that guy is real…right?”

She fell onto her bed, kicking her legs.

Who could she be talking to?

“Babe, seriously. I’m careful. I promise. Besides, I can take care of myself. Just worry about your flight tomorrow morning, okay?”

Great. I always loved surprise seekers.

Without realizing, I sighed, and some bits of plaster came loose and crumbled to the floor. She flinched, then looked towards me—or at least the wall I hid behind. My stomach dropped, and I pushed my piece back into the wall before she rolled off her bed to approach.

I could hear her muffled words through the wall.

“Yeah. It’s those stupid mice again.”

They’re not stupid, lady. They’re resourceful.

“Mhm. You know how it goes. Slumlord won’t fix shit around here.”

I felt a large thud in front of me, and then heard her walking back to her bed. I pulled my piece back from the wall and continued to watch.

“Anyway, I need to shower. I work early, and as much as I love talking to you…”

“Yeah. I know. I love you, too. Sleep tight. I’ll see you soon. Oh—by the way, when you get back, can you lay some traps or something?”

She twirled her hair in her finger and adjusted her towel.

Silence.

Then she left the room, saying something I couldn’t make out.

~~~

I lost track of time. Before I knew, she was back in her room getting into an oversized tee-shirt and fuzzy socks. I loved how soft her skin looked.

Soft...

I put the lens of my phone camera into the hole and snapped a couple shots. The shutter sound filled my dark cave, and she did a double take.

Her confusion is so adorable. She just needs to try harder.

Sure, I could have turned it off, but the sound of it makes things feel more…permanent. I pushed the cutout back into the wall and leaned back. This time, I leaned against the lath behind me. It creaked and more plaster crumbled from it. A few light taps reverberated from different spots in the wall. A few of them were pretty close to my view hole, but not close enough. More mice squeaked past me.

“Ugh. He needs to hurry up and come home, or soon, I’ll have to start demanding rent from the mice,” she grumbled.

She yawned, and I heard her feet shuffling against the area rug beneath her bed. I peered into the room again, and she was out of sight. A click echoed through the room, and everything went dark, except for the glowing screen in her hands.

~The Next Day~

I returned to my hideaway, and went straight to my plaster eye. There was a new voice, this time. A man’s.

Who?

New player?

Quincy.

Between the laughter after short, muffled lines, or the heavier footsteps vibrating past the wall, it had to be him.

Perfect.

“That’s the wall, right there.”

More heavy steps toward my peephole.

If they were to find out the kind of “mice” that hid behind this wall…

“Trust me Sara. One of my buddies at the office swears by it. This kind of stuff is great, because I can just drill a small hole and fill the wall with foam. No more mice,” Quincy said.

Sara…that’s a pretty name.

Sara.

Quincy.

I shook my head in amusement. That crap won’t even kill the idea of a mouse.

“Oh…that’s it?” Sara asked.

Quincy hummed in agreement, then I heard the buzz of a drill. It rumbled against the hard plaster, then, an uneven hole popped out from the wall. He pulled a chunk of wall out with the bit, letting in more light. They still couldn’t see me, though.

“Oh…and um…don’t worry about this. We can glue it back,” the wannabe handyman said.

Next, I saw a clear straw enter, and a yellowish goop splattered to the inside of the wall and dribbled downward. The spraying continued until the can coughed and sputtered, then the jagged plug of plaster was placed back into its spot.

“And that should do it. Go watch some reels or something. Read one of your fancy books. Just give it a few hours, and the mice’ll be gone. They hate this stuff,” Quincy said confidently.

I could hear Sara hum with relief. But there was nothing to be relieved of. She still needed to find me.

~Another Day~

I’ve been coming back here for about a week, now. I grew bored of watching Sara read the same books, or listen to the same music. And now, I hear her gossiping on the phone about that same thing Quincy was teasing her about.

Peekaboo…

Come find me…

So this time, I came back prepared. I began making scratching noises on the wall and against the pipes with an ice pick I…found. It didn’t take long before she was on the phone with an actual exterminator this time, cursing about how “useless” the spray foam was. About an hour-or-so later, I watched her pace the room with crossed arms. It was perfect. I took more pictures. More precious moments captured for my eyes only. Then, a fat man in a utility belt and muddy boots walked into view.

“Oh, wow. You’ve got a pretty old place here, huh? I figured it would be old from the yellow brick outside, but the high ceilings and the textured wall really settle it.”

This guy knows his stuff. I hope he doesn’t spoil my fun.

“Welp, I should probably get to work. I’ll need to cut a large hole in the wall to see what we’re working with. You good with that, ma’am?”

He cleared his throat, and Sara nodded, still crossing her arms nervously. The exterminator rummaged through his tool bag, then pulled out a battery-operated cutting tool with a small triangular blade on it.

“What’s that for?” Sara asked.

The technician stopped in his tracks.

Yes. Stall him!

Hold on!

Wait!

Hold on!

Wait!

Stall him!!!

“Ah, this thing? I’m gonna use it to cut into your wall. Here’s the thing about old plaster—it cracks real bad. Once one starts, it doesn’t stop. So I've gotta use something sharp and slow on it.”

He got closer to the wall, and I plugged the hole again.

Damn. He’s gonna find me. I need to do something.

Found you!

Game over.

Found you!

Gotcha!

Found you!

Gotcha!

Found you!

The tool whined against the plaster, and dust began to billow from the inside of the wall. I could see the blade slowly making its way up the wall, then retracting before starting a new, horizontal line.

Then he stopped.

“Hey, Sara, was it?” He muttered.

“You wanna know the funny thing about these old buildings? They sometimes have more space behind the walls—like home flippers purposely make the rooms smaller or something to save money. Greedy bastards.”

The tool clunked against the floor.

“Sometimes, there’s at least a foot of space extra behind the mud I’m cutting through. You wanna take a look before it’s all patched up again?”

I could hear Sara hum.

“I guess that’s a no. I get it, though.”

He fired up the tool again and plunged it back into the wall. It didn’t take long for the next two lines to be finished. Then, it got quiet again.

“Um, sir?” Sara broke the silence.

“Call me Jed, sweetheart. What’s up?”

“Um…Jed…did you hear about the murders popping up around the city? My boyfriend teases me about it, and even joked about it a little while ago…but do you think the killer is real?”

Silence.

Thump.

It sounded like a hammer or pry-bar was set down.

“Jed” cleared his throat.

“Oh…you worried about what I said a second ago? About the extra foot inside your walls? Don’t sweat that stuff. Even if someone could get in there, there’s too many lead pipes and nails sticking out for anyone to fit. You’d need to be a pretty tiny guy to fit in there. Well, I for sure couldn’t fit.”

I could hear him slapping something—maybe his gut. He laughed.

“Besides, you’re on the third floor of this building. Realistically, who could get to you from here?”

Sara exhaled. I could hear the panic leaving her lungs. But I still needed to find a way out.

“Even if the guy is real, just watch yourself when you’re out, don’t travel alone, and you’ll be just fine.”

Suddenly, a ringtone echoed from the other side of the room.

“Ah. Must be my daughter. She’s not much younger than you. She’s away at college. It’s her first year. You mind if I get that?”

I heard him stumble clumsily to his feet.

“Go ahead. Take your time,” Sara said.

She’s so understanding. And she bought me some time!

Jed left the room, and Sara got into a call of her own.

Quincy.

I opened my view hole again, and Sara was sitting on the edge of her bed, phone to her ear.

“Hey babe. Yeah, the worker guy is here. He cut a huge square in my wall, and then he said there’s probably a ton of space behind it. Pretty creepy, right?”

Chatter.

“Oh, give it a rest. I already told you last time that it wasn’t funny. The killer is not real! And what if I—”

She adjusted herself, then squinted at the wall—focusing on my hole.

“Hold on. Let me call you back.”

She tapped her screen, then tossed her phone back onto the bed.

This is it!

Find me!

I quickly plugged the hole.

She’s coming!

Her steps were soft.

Getting warmer!

She reached the wall. I could hear her hand tracing it until stopping. Then, she began prying the large square open.