A Scream in the Walls

She had done it. Jenny stood triumphant at the top of the stairs, with an equal sense of shock and relief. "Well," she sighed, "Until death do us part, darling." She had never wanted it to end this way, but she had reached her breaking point. All it took was a push, and she had sent her husband tumbling down the wine cellar steps to his death. Jenny Waylon was the picturesque trophy wife any man could have asked for by his side. She was a tall, attractive, twenty-something brunette with a sense of fashion and an appetite for expensive things.

Jenny's now deceased husband, Edward Waylon, fell in love with all of her traits, especially her youth, the moment he saw her. After all, he was forty years her senior when they met. Edward was born into money, having come from a family of wealth and fortune known for being tightfisted with their assets. Over the years, much like his family, he had become extremely frugal with that wealth, to the point of hoarding most of his fortune. He refused to spend extra on anything lavish or extravagant, even denying the basic upkeep of the Waylon Estate. Once a majestic and sprawling estate, it had become neglected and now stood as a lackluster testament to its former glory.

In just one year of their marriage, Jenny had grown to despise living in that mansion. Night after night, she could hear the sound of movement and scratching within the walls. With each passing night, the writhing sound of gnawing grew more intense, evolving from a single grinding sound against the wooden walls to the sound of dozens of nails clawing at the structure. It had to be rats, she told herself, as shivers ran down her spine at the mere thought.

Edward dismissed the notion as just her overactive imagination playing tricks and refused to spend the cost to hire any exterminators. Most of his days were spent in business meetings, and at night, he preferred not to be disturbed. A heavy sleeper, he often boasted about being able to sleep through an earthquake. Unfortunately for Jenny, such was not the case when it came to her sleep. At night, like clockwork, Jenny could always hear the scurrying and clawing within the walls just off in the distance. Every night it worsened until she had enough and decided that she needed a way out, by any means. She refused to be a victim and settle for half of his estate; in her mind, she had earned it all.

Edward's body lay twisted and mangled at the bottom of the staircase, his face frozen in an agonizing stare. It was New Year's Eve, and Edward had sent all of the mansion's housekeeping staff away for the night, presenting Jenny with the perfect opportunity. She made her way upstairs, rehearsing the events in her head, playing it out just as she had planned. She would make a frantic emergency call, sobbing that her husband had taken one too many drinks. Being a light drinker, it wouldn't take much for him to become inebriated and clumsy. He had gotten careless, tripped, and fallen. She arrived at the wine cellar and found him there at the bottom, a victim of his own misadventure.

With a deep breath, she dialed 911 and started to sob, rehearsing exactly what she was going to tell the operator. Just as she was about to place the call, Jenny's heart suddenly stopped as she desperately clutched her chest, searching for her necklace that she always wore. The small opal necklace was a family heirloom that had been passed down through the generations. It was the one materialistic piece of importance that she valued above all else. Her mind raced, retracing every murderous step until the realization dawned on her that she knew where it was. Somehow, Edward must have grabbed it in a dire attempt to hold on when she pushed him down those dreaded stairs. Even in death, he remained the bane of her existence, she thought. She had to get the necklace back. After all, having it broken off and clenched in Edward's death grip would raise too much unwanted suspicion.

Jenny darted back to the wine cellar steps, coming to a shocking halt upon reaching them. At the cusp of the long and narrow stairs, she peered down, appalled at the sight. Edward's jumbled mess of a body was no longer there. She ran down the staircase and noticed a trail of smeared blood stretched across the floor. "There's no way that he could've survived!" Jenny thought as she followed the crimson trail, her heart racing with wild anticipation. The air was heavy with a musky stench that invaded the senses the moment it was breathed in.