Writings on the Wall

Within the building there are many walls. Some are well placed, such as those between the individual apartments. Others not so much, such as those between the fence and the door. Simply unnecessary. But there was one wall that was different from the rest, the eastern wall of the second floor main hallway.

Today I will tell you about the wall. And my experiences with it. For now I know about the wall, and you should as well.

Upon an ordinary glance, the wall was nothing special. It was painted yellow with a few cracks near the bottom, a couple crooked paintings hanging on it. An elevator access. But the wall was always there. It was reasonable. Dependable. Faithful.

It had been an ordinary morning when I first noticed the wall. Mainly because the neighbor Mr. Shu was staring at it. Not at a painting, nor one of the cracks, nor the elevator. But simply a blank piece of wall. Mr. Shu was an art lover. He would spend days in his room drawing, painting, sketching, writing, building, and exploring other creative outlets. But never had his interests stuck to a single art form, his mind was free.

When I returned that night, Mr. Shu was still there so I inquired, "Mr. Shu, what makes this ordinary wall so interesting to you?"

Mr. Shu seemed shocked that someone asked him a question, or that he heard a sound at all.

"Well if you would simply look into the deepest parts of this wall, you would see" Mr. Shu answered. "The intricacy, the deepness, it is truly incredible to bear witness"

I looked at the wall skeptically. Had Mr. Shu lost his mind? Perhaps this was an elaborate plot to sell me an artwork. But as I peered closer, it became apparent. Mr. Shu was correct. There written, quite small and light, were words. They were words of another kind. They moved, shifted, grew and shrank. They were also of another tongue. Yet somehow, I felt a connection to them. A pull. Shaken by the effect the words had on me I stepped back and scurried into my apartment, throwing out a hurried and scuffed farewell to Mr. Shu.

Unlucky was I. My apartment lay on the other side of the strange wall, albeit not where Mr. Shu was staring. All through the night I heard it. As I slept, whispers and whispers beckoned to me.

Early in the morning, many of the neighbors, including myself were awakened by a crash in the hallway. We all stumbled outside, sleepy and tired. Outside, we saw Mr. Shu, his head crashed through the wall. The rest of his body did not move.

We yelled to Mr Shu. Perhaps he had fallen asleep. But the wall was thick, dependable, strong. The weight of Mr. Shu's body would not have been enough to send his head through the wall. The only explanation being that someone either pushed him through the wall, or that he had bashed his head into the wall in the middle of the night. We grabbed his legs and pulled on him, but suddenly he fought back.

Muffled screams were heard in the wall, "No! No! It hurts! Please!"

We all stopped pulling and Mrs. Deacon who lived across the hall called to Mr. Shu "Where does it hurt? Perhaps we can pull at another angle!"

"No! No!" Mr. Shu cried out "My body matters not anymore! Only my mind! It would be a shame to leave the wall! I have become one! I must just...get...a little further, then perhaps"

Mr.Shu kicked and flailed until he had forced his arms into the hole.

"Mr. Gunyun!" I called out, "He's probably broken through into your room by now, maybe we could pull him through the other side!"

Mr. Gunyun ran into his room, which was only two doors down from mine, but quickly ran back out.

"He's not there." He said, "There's not a hint of damage in the wall at all."