The Room at the end of the Hall

The Room at the End of the Hall

When you’re a child you believe that there are monsters hiding under your bed or inside your closet, and you force your parents to do the nightly ritual of ensuring that the coast is clear; that the monsters won’t scare you as you fall asleep.

I can almost bet that it has never crossed your mind that the monsters, if they are not hiding under your bed or inside your closet, that they must be hiding elsewhere. Let me assure you that they will be hiding in the place you would least expect.

Is there a door inside your house that is always kept closed? Or perhaps a room your parents forbid you from entering?

If your answer is a no, then you may be one of the lucky ones.

If your answer is a yes, then you may have just enough time to check. But don’t open the door, whatever you do; simply place your ear close to the door and listen. Can you hear the monsters banging and rioting? They are dangerous.

I have a horrible feeling that one of you is going to open the door. The door at the end of the hall.

Billy Anderson was a good kid. He, for the most part, behaved himself and didn’t get into any serious trouble. Every night before Billy went to sleep; both of his parents checked under his bed and inside his closet to make sure that there were no monsters ready to pounce. His parents did this religiously and reasoned that it was a phase Billy would grow out of as he grew up.

I must admit that Billy was a hell of a lot smarter for his age than his parents would have guessed. He knew that there were no monsters hiding under his bed; and he knew that there were no monsters, not even baby ones, hiding inside his closet. He knew almost certainly where they were hiding.

He had asked his parents about the room at the end of the hall plenty of times, but they only half answered and told him to go and read or watch TV which he did without much fuss.

Knowing that trying to get answers out of his parents about the room at the end of the hall was nothing short of impossible, Billy decided to observe. From the doorway of his room, he could see very clearly, the room at the end of the hall. He waited and he watched to see if his parents would enter that room. They didn’t.

This new found knowledge made the room at the end of the hall even more interesting.

When Billy went to sleep at night, he dreamed of what he thought lay on the other side of the door. He wanted it to be something awesome, but whenever the dream got really epic, it would suddenly turn into a nightmare full of raging and vile monsters.

Some may say that I wasn’t doing my job, but I didn’t see any harm. Children, especially at Billy’s age, are imaginative and inquisitive.

It wasn’t until I heard the Other Voice – the one cajoling Billy to open the door at the end of the hall – get louder and louder. I searched through my inventory and found that Billy was the only one in danger. Why? Well, Billy was the only child that had a room at the end of the hall. And no one ever dared to open the door. So I sent out a warning, to everyone, but specifically to Billy. I told him to NOT open the door at the end of the hall, but to place his ear against the door and listen to the horrors that were locked behind it.

I could clearly see that the noises – growling, screaming and terrorised moans – had suitably put Billy off the idea of opening the door. I was happy to see that his curiosity was satisfied when the Other Voice – louder this time, a screaming cacophony of laughter – cajoled Billy back towards the door.

The door opened almost too easily which made my nerves recoil and shiver. And just as easily and soundlessly as the door at the end of the hall opened, Billy Anderson slipped inside.

I stayed around the Anderson’s house until Billy’s parents awoke to find their son missing. They searched Billy’s room, they yelled out his name over and over again. They called the police who said they would be there in ten minutes. Mr and Mrs Anderson sat patiently on their sofa, waiting for the police.

Twenty minutes passed, then thirty.

Forty minutes had almost passed when the Other Voice slithered back inside the house and asked the Anderson’s if they had checked the room at the end of the hall.

There was no time to stop them. They sprinted up the stairs two at a time, and stopped dead. The door to the room at the end of the hall was wide open.

Billy’s parents called out his name. Billy, hysterical, pleaded and begged his parents to save him.

As Billy’s parents stepped into the room at the end of the hall, they heard sirens blaring outside, almost breaking their trance. The Other Voice nastily hurried them along.

The police parked up beside the Anderson’s house and were about to run inside when...

Some people just can’t be saved.

Sincerely,

No-One

The Night Keeper.