it was, as far as I can ascertain, in the year of 2013
that a most distressing event happen in my life
I can only tell you the year in which this tale of mine
befell my simple and rather calm life for I do not know exactly the month or day
due to this disquieting event
I was taking my degree in history and archaeology
and I had an important research work to do
there were specific books and documentations on a library far from the city where I lived and study
therefore I had to spend some time away to be able to do my work
I will not go into details about such studies, for I fear it is a rather dull subject to the listener
and it has nothing to do with these strange events I'm about to describe
I went by train
it took me a bit less than seven hours to arrive into this town where the library was
I had never set foot in this place nor had I any connections to it
I had only the address of the Inn where I was supposed to stay and the name of the street where the library was
night fell swiftly when I arrived
the last fiery colors before the world is consumed by utter darkness
calmly faded in the edge of the world
slowly blending with the gloom
a keen wintry-wind blew and whispered moans
in the hollow trunks of trees
upon stepping in the train platform
I took a deep breath and clung to my luggage, for I was completely alone and had a few more miles ahead of me
untill I reached the town
glowing in the distance
I could see the ruined medieval walls which once protected the town
I hastened to reach safety and light
considering that the road between the train station and the town
had no illumination and I had felt a heavy presence looming in the darkness
pressing its icy talons on my shoulders and cold breath on the back of my neck
the entrance to the town was by an arc way recently built on the granite walls
the streets were empty but the shadows of the townsfolk were
reflected upon the yellow lights of each window
the names of the streets had long faded from the stone slabs on important buildings
but fortunately a police officer making the night patrol gave me
indications to where I could find the Inn
I walked up on a gentle slope, passing a few old stone houses and there it was
the Polycarp Inn
it had to be, because it was the only building with its front door opened
at this time of night
there was a sign with the name of the Inn beneath the lamp
but the lamp was broken and I could barely see it in the dim what was written in the sign
had not been for a hazy light streaming out of a window
I would never had noticed the sign
the innkeeper was a very gentle and friendly woman, in her mid 70s
her left leg was lame but even so she went up the stairs to take me to my room and explain me
the plumbing problems and that I couldn't turn on every light at the same time
I turned the central heating system
I prided myself on being a keen observant
so I had noticed in the reception board that there were no odd numbers
the rooms had only even numbers, and so mine was number 10
and there it was, right where it was supposed to be
the last room at the end of the corridor - the number 10
I could barely sleep the first night, the person on number 8 was very restless, it seemed
the room was right next to mine and it seemed the walls were very thin
so I could hear the person sobbing and walking from one side of the chambers to the other
barefooted, making that irritating pump pump pump sound echoing in my ears
just a bit before the break of dawn the sound had come to an end at last
finally all was at peace and I shut my eyes for a brief moment
but someone was battering at my chamber door, calling everyone aloud
shouting that breakfast would be served in the Common Hall
*breakfast ready! At the Common Hall!*
I dragged myself downstairs, I sat and ate and went back upstairs to have some sleep
as I thought of myself as being a keen observant
I had noticed that everyone at the table was as exhausted as I was
most of them were completely aloof to the fact that there was food in front of them
and that the sleeves of their robes were soaking inside their plates filled with milk
it seemed that I wasn't the only one that had a rough night
my brain was still sound asleep so my observant skills were not yet acute enough at that time of the day
and I wasn't able to tell which of those standing there was the person on number 8
all of them had their eyes touched in with a burning red
weeping or lack of sleep seemed to stain the eyes in the same manner
it was past midday when I left my room again and went to do some research at the library
for that was why I had come to this forsaken town in the first place
I brought some books with me back to the Inn
so I could do my work at my chambers, alone, in peace and quiet
I was arriving at the Inn when I looked up and saw the window to my room
next to it was the window of number 8
red shoes on the window ledge
a woman's shoes
so number 8 was a woman . . .
I could have sworn that by the barefooted sound and the crying, that it was a man
one can't definitely trust everything he hears
I went upstairs to my room, I tried to put the key on the door lock of my chambers
but it simply didn't fit
inside my room, or what I thought it was my room
I heard the sound of footsteps and voices talking in whispers
then all sound ceased and someone, barefooted again, came running towards the door
and there it stopped
I noticed that it had grabbed the door handle and was trying to pull it
or push it, I'm not certain
I had the sensation that it was trying to get out
I was startled to hear that there was a low moan by the door
the person had its face leaning against the door and I could hear a rapid breathing as well
I looked up and noticed that number of the door wasn't mine
nor was it the number 8
it was clear to my sight that there was a 9 hanging above the door
for a man who thought of himself as being a keen observant, well . . .
I felt ashamed of myself at that moment
my room was clearly the next one and not the one I was trying to get into
I apologize to . . . whoever was inside number nine, and went back to my room
as fast as I could so no one would see the stupidity that I had made
one cannot trust half of everything he sees
at my room
after pondering about my previous encounter with the wrong door
I remembered that there were no odd numbers in that Inn, so number nine couldn't possibly be there
but what was I thinking? No, no, no, I obviously had seen it just then
and certainly the day I had arrived at the Inn, I hadn't seen it right in the reception board
I had been tired from the train journey and was a bit afraid, I confess, when I got to the town
Yes! That was it . . . I definitely didn't noticed that there were rooms with odd numbers
so much for my observation skills
that same night, and the three nights after
the same moaning and sobbing sounds from number 8
well . . . from number 9 that is
were still heard
the person inside that room seemed to be dancing in one of those nights
at my fifth night at the Inn
I heard a horrible muffled voice, seemingly singing a most dreadful melody
It stopped when someone came banging on my door
*who is it ?*
said I, afraid to get up and go to the door
*your neighbor next door*
a woman shouted
I went to the door to see what the woman in the red shoes wanted with me
it was clearly her
for now I was convinced that the person on number 9 was really a man by the terrible sounds he made
the woman sounded a bit upset
as I opened the door she spoke to me in a manner that I thought she was going to strangle me
I was very angry by that peevish tongue of hers and the way she addressed me
I was also very tired and with little patience for foolish questions
*what on earth are you doing in here?*
she asked me
* could you please . . . *
when she was about to tell me to stop doing whatever I was doing, I deem
the crying or singing voice was suddenly heard for brief moments
and then dead-silence fell
only a few seconds later the voice was heard again
seemingly to laughter, laughing at himself in a rather crooning way
the woman looked at me with bulging eyes, a white fear struck her
her lips were white, her skin was pale and she started to shake
had she been a mirror, I would have seen my own reflection similar to her current state of fear
I told the woman, as she could perfectly hear
that the sounds came from the person whose room was between ours
then I realized that she was even more frightened when she looked to where, supposedly, the door of number 9 was
I peered to see if the person of number 9 was on the corridor
and what kind of hideous look he had to frighten the woman so
my heart sank into a profound void inside my bowels when I noticed, to my horror ,that there was no door at all
there was only number 8 and my own room - number 10
yet inside the wall between ou-our rooms ! The sounds continued . . .
the woman and I went to get the innkeeper
in the process the sounds inside the wall had died away
even so, the three of us stood for a while facing that wall . . . waiting . . .
at first we heard nothing at all and innkeeper was about to say we were both barking mad
when we heard someone . . .
we heard a faraway sound of someone screaming
and then another person, not too far off, gurgling and groaning
then we heard someone else nearer the wall, laughing out loud . . .
clearly it wasn't the same person
I don't think it was a person at all by such sounds
there was the sound of feet going down some stairs and coming back up
and then a heavy door shutting
and all was quiet again . . . morning was about to break
I wanted to forget all about it because if I couldn't I would never be able to sleep again
but we had to get to the bottom of this
was there something or someone trapped inside the wall?
going mad by the lack of food and drink, shut in the dark of some old chimney?
after hearing such sounds it wasn't likely that these questions had some truth in them
every one in the inn had been troubled by those sounds
but they were too afraid to speak of it or to come out of their chambers to see what was going on
at lunch, we all agreed to check where did these sounds came from
or if there was a way into the inside of the wall, for it clearly had stairs inside
in fact, there really had been of way as I had suggested
in the cellar
where the innkeeper had made a laundry room
there was a very large pillar
larger than any other supporting the building
in such pillar
there was a granite stone with Latin inscriptions, this stone had been placed where a door had been
well, I'm not an expert on Latin but I always keep with me a Latin dictionary
to aid me when I'm doing a research for archaeological works about Romans
thus, this is what was written on the stone:
"Hinc natus est et hinc habitare"
I had translated this to: "born here and here to stay"
but at the base of the pillar another thing was written:
"Pervetus Umbræ"
for this I had no need for my dictionary, I knew exactly what it meant
though everyone was shouting and asking me
to see in my dictionary what it meant but I didn't want to tell them
well eventually I spoke . . .
Pervetus means "old" or "ancient"
and Umbræ . . .
is the term used for shadows, but not just any shadows . . .
Umbræ are the shadows of the dead . . .
we took our . . . time, trying to break the wall around the stone to be able to take it away and get in
we were so much concerned with our findings and all that process that we hadn't noticed that
night was advancing with haste . . .
we were talking with each other when there was the sound of metal hinges creaking
we were silent . . .
the there was the sound of a door slamming and hastily-feet coming down the stairs to meet us
we all ran outside into the street more quickly than I could write these words or could have spoken them
I spent the rest of my time in that town, on another inn just outside the town walls
I heard that the police was able to enter that pillar and found a large wooden coffer
inside the coffer there were animal bones and fur and a rusty dagger and a book
a very old book with a black leather cover with words cut on it
they came to me to see if I could tell them what was written inside the book
but not even I nor the oldest of my archaeology professors could tell what kind of language was that
however, I could see that the dagger was made of copper
and dated back to the middle Bronze Ages, even before the Romans had come to that place
but they clearly had an encounter with whatever had been born there
and was there to stay . . .
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