There's a house down by the old Roman wall that's covered in blue doors of all shades and sizes. My uncle says that each door leads you to a different room, even though the windows just show the brickwork behind it. He says that's just to keep the ignorant masses out.
I didn't believe him until I walked past that house ans saw somebody walking into one of the doors. I waited around for a while but he didn't come out. When I told my uncle and he demanded to know which door the man had gone through and took me over to the house so I could show him.
As soon as I'd pointed out the door he became furious, screamed that it was his door and flung it open, stormed inside and slammed it closed behind him. I put my ear against it and heard the sounds of people arguing - one voice clearly my uncle's, another man's and a woman who was trying to get them to stop.
There was a loud crash, like glass thrown against a wall, a couple of thuds and then absolute silence. I turned the handle, the door opened smoothly and quietly to reveal a bloody scene. Inside the room had once been some kind of bar/billiards combo but the balls were all embedded in the heads of my uncle and the man who I'd seen go into the room before him.
The floor was coated with glass shards and the bar was void of all drinks. The billiard table bore a large dent along one side, like somebodies head had been thrown against it - their fight had been brutal but short. Even the ceiling - even the walls had blood speckled along them from the sheer intensity of the blows.
I never did find the woman who'd been begging them to stop but I found traces that she'd been there. A broken stiletto stuck in the bar top, a purse and all its contents spilled in a corner, the words "not again" scribbled under the bar in red lipstick. She'd been there for sure but was somehow nowhere to be found in a room with no exits but the door I walked in and no way she could have gotten out without me seeing.
I never considered that there might have been a room behind the mirrored wall of the bar, let alone consider that she'd be behind there watching my every move and making notes about me. At least, not until I went back years later when the police tape was gone and the case closed. She hadn't hidden as well this time, I saw her slip into her hiding spot, billiard balls clenched tightly in her fist.
I didn't believe him until I walked past that house ans saw somebody walking into one of the doors. I waited around for a while but he didn't come out. When I told my uncle and he demanded to know which door the man had gone through and took me over to the house so I could show him.
As soon as I'd pointed out the door he became furious, screamed that it was his door and flung it open, stormed inside and slammed it closed behind him. I put my ear against it and heard the sounds of people arguing - one voice clearly my uncle's, another man's and a woman who was trying to get them to stop.
There was a loud crash, like glass thrown against a wall, a couple of thuds and then absolute silence. I turned the handle, the door opened smoothly and quietly to reveal a bloody scene. Inside the room had once been some kind of bar/billiards combo but the balls were all embedded in the heads of my uncle and the man who I'd seen go into the room before him.
The floor was coated with glass shards and the bar was void of all drinks. The billiard table bore a large dent along one side, like somebodies head had been thrown against it - their fight had been brutal but short. Even the ceiling - even the walls had blood speckled along them from the sheer intensity of the blows.
I never did find the woman who'd been begging them to stop but I found traces that she'd been there. A broken stiletto stuck in the bar top, a purse and all its contents spilled in a corner, the words "not again" scribbled under the bar in red lipstick. She'd been there for sure but was somehow nowhere to be found in a room with no exits but the door I walked in and no way she could have gotten out without me seeing.
I never considered that there might have been a room behind the mirrored wall of the bar, let alone consider that she'd be behind there watching my every move and making notes about me. At least, not until I went back years later when the police tape was gone and the case closed. She hadn't hidden as well this time, I saw her slip into her hiding spot, billiard balls clenched tightly in her fist.
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