The Third-Floor Bedroom

She stood in the doorway of her once beautiful bedroom. Picture frames had been knocked to the ground, the shattered glass blanketing the hardwood floor; countless paperback books were tossed onto the floor, their pages sticking up; the light pink sheets on the bed were bunched up and wrinkled, halfway to being completely on the ground. It seemed as though a wild tornado had made its way through the precisely, uniquely decorated bedroom.

It all began when someone left the window open. Most likely the girl’s mother. It was a sweltering hot summer, and the girl’s bedroom was the stuffiest of them all. The heat was oppressive and seemed to sit on the chest of whoever entered the room, making it nearly impossible to breathe.

When the family had first moved into the quaint countryside house the week before, the girl was ecstatic. She adored their new home and couldn’t wait for a fresh start. Their old neighborhood was filled with mean kids and she had difficulty making friends. While her younger brother and sister chose two bedrooms on the second floor, the girl chose the one on the third floor because it seemed to have a certain character to it that she liked. The other bedrooms seemed to be just like any other rooms that could be found in any other house, but this one was special in an indescribable way. When she walked up the stairs, and entered the warm, unfurnished, dove wallpaper-covered space, she felt as though there was a presence there which was pulling her in and making her feel at ease. Within the next few days, she decorated and arranged her belongings as she pleased, creating her dream bedroom with a satisfied smile upon her face.

But now, she had a look of disbelief as sweat droplets coated her temples and her frowned eyes slowly scanned the mess. “I can’t believe those little twerps did this!” she exclaimed, and angrily began to clean up the debris. Later on that evening at dinnertime, she harshly scolded her younger siblings for wrecking her room while she was out of the house, who were in turn confounded by what she was describing.

When the girl climbed back the stairs to the third floor which was slightly cooled down thanks to the open window, she again found her room in disarray. At this moment, she was taken with fear. If her entire family was downstairs the whole time, then how was the bedroom again torn apart? She came to the conclusion that either she herself was going crazy, or there was an intruder hiding in the house who was messing with her. The girl purposely searched through her closet, under her bed, and spent the rest of the night looking through every single crevice in every single room of the house, but no one was to be found. “Maybe I am going crazy,” she thought to herself.

After placing all of her things where they belonged once more, she went to bed thoroughly unsettled and failed to fall asleep, tossing and turning. The summer night breeze came in from the window, and the full moon cast a light onto her floors. Trying to figure out who - or what - was wrecking her beautiful room proved to not be the most relaxing nighttime activity. She stared at the ceiling in exasperation, when suddenly it began to pulsate like a ocean wave. Blinking rapidly, she hoped her eyes and the darkness were deceiving her, but upon turning on the light they indeed displayed a strange spectacle. The walls too were throbbing. Perplexed, she walked towards the wall facing her and tentatively reached her hand out to touch it. What brushed against her fingertips was not a solid, hard structure, but rather a wall with a soft, dough-like consistency. Then an unfamiliar female voice abruptly said “I’m sorry to have scared you.” The girl jumped in surprise and darted her eyes around her room to see who the stranger was. She saw no one.

“Would you mind closing the window? I’m awfully cold,” said the voice again. A thousand panicked thoughts were running through her mind as she was trying to decipher where this woman’s voice was coming from, but as utterly confused as she was, she did as it wished and shut the window.

It breathed a sigh of alleviation. “Ah, that’s so much better. Thank you.”

“Who are you? Why can’t I see you?” asked the girl.

“I live in the walls, my dear.”

The voice went on to explain how many years ago, she lived in this house and loved it with all of her might. Her bedroom was too this very one which the girl took over, and she passed away in it. Her spirit remained there, and took on the vessel of the beloved room she had spent so many years in over the course of her life. She also apologized for making the mess, as she in fact rather enjoyed the heat and simply wanted someone to take notice and shut the window. The girl found all of this rather amusing, but also liked the spirit quite a lot. The spirit herself was glad to have such a sweet girl living in the room, taking good proper care of it and decorating it with beautiful trinkets.

By the end of the night, they had spent hours chatting, and that third-floor bedroom became the place of perhaps the most peculiar friendship to have ever occurred.