Numbers on the Wall (Part 2)

This story still contains adult content, similar but different from the first part. Reader discretion is advised.

Roger locked the door to his efficency apartment. He threw off his coat and almost mangled his tie as he yanked it free of its double windsor prison. He pulled the paper with the telephone number out of his pocket and sat on the edge of his still folded out day bed. He had been excited about making this call an hour ago, while he was still sitting in his car. He even considered using his cell phone, but he worried about what would happen if the conversation got lurid. He waited until this moment, but his zeal had faded and was replaced by anxiety. If it is a prank of somekind, I’ll never live it down. It will haunt me. But what if this is my chance? My only chance? He reached for his phone and began dialing the number. 

His hand trembled as he put the reciever to his ear. It rang once. I wonder who will answer! Will it be a man or a woman? It rang a second time. What if it really is Irene? What will I say? “I saw your number on the bathroom stall and thought that you’d want a little rumpy-pumpy.” His vision of a night with a sexually frustrated erotic dynamo started to fade on the third ring, when someone picked up on the other end of the line.  Roger’s heart pumped in his chest as he head her breathing. The phone connection was staticy, but he could hear her! That is feminine breathing if I ever heard it!

“The night,” said the voice on the other end of the line. It was soft and eerie, like an old recording. Roger strained to hear the quiet voice over the static. “Tonight is when I will come. Leave the door open. I cannot open it. I want to be with you.”

“Tonight?” Roger asked.

“Yes. Leave the door open.” responded the voice. Then, there was silence.

“But how will you know where to find me? You don’t know who I am.”

(Ending Version 1)

There was no response to his question, just static and silence. He thought he might have heard something. Was that a wimper? A moan? Roger became frustrated, as this was evidently some kind of trick. That voice was so creepy, so unreal. Maybe it’s somekind of ad? For a horror movie or something; viral advertising through graffiti. It sounds reasonable enough. Roger terminated the call with a button press. He watched television, checked his e-mail, ate some macoroni and cheese, and settled into his bed to watch more television. The late night talk shows weren’t keeping his attention; all day long he was obsessing about sex, and now it was on his mind again. I should be with a woman right now. It just isn’t fair! I thought for sure that the number was someone’s. Roger wallowed in his self constructed misery until he started watching a movie on Cinemax. It was something about witches and their need for the life giving powers that only a man could provide. It was when the red headed witch was “extracting the life giving power” from a man that Roger heard a loud banging on the door.

It was past four in the morning, and it was unlikely that anyone he knew would be knocking at the door so late. Then he remembered the call; Tonight is when I’ll come my ass! It was a fucking prank. Tired and cranky, he pulled his flat sheet into a makeshift toga and walked to the door.

“I don’t know who this is, but you better fuck off.” He threatened weakly, “I’ll call the cops.”

“I said to leave the door unlocked.” responded a ghostly voice. Roger looked at the door and saw smoke billowing under his door. The smoke was also pouring in through the sides. Someone went through a hell of a lot of work to prank me like this. It has to be someone that knows my voice. Could it be Fat Brian? No way! Roger unbolted the door and opened it in a rage. He was determined to yell at someone over this outrage. The guts someone has to pull shit like this. Fucking asshole is going to

Outside the door was the form of a woman clouded in a black haze. Her hair lashed around like tendrils; her eyes were white and unseeing. Her slender hand reached out for Roger’s sheet and tugged at it. She smiled coyly as she pulled herself through the open door. She was voluptuous and sensual; rather than be repelled by her, Roger felt himself drawn to her. The woman’s arms wrapped around him as she pressed her lips against his. Roger felt as though he was losing control of himself. He felt her lie him down; he felt her take his manhood within her. Pleasure flowed through his body as he heard one of the witches from the movie fake an orgasim. This is unbelieveable! It feels so good! 

Roger’s life changed that night. Over the next few months, he gained weight. His belly began to sag and he felt like there was something moving inside of him. When he went to his doctor complaining of nausea, they conducted a series of tests that concluded he had a large tumour growing in his stomach. The doctor told him surgery was the answer, and so surgery it was. However, when the surgery was over, the doctor spoke with Roger.

“Son,” said the doctor, “I don’t know how to say this, so I will be blunt. The tumor wasn’t a tumor. It was something else…”

Roger was startled and aghast. Don’t let it be what I think it is! Please! Please! He silently prayed to God that the doctor wouldn’t say the words he didn’t want to hear. Don’t say that it was

“a baby.” said the doctor.   

About harrylthompsonjr

I'm a writer, a photographer, and a lover of role playing games. I've moved my blog to wordpress in hopes of actually getting some feedback. We'll see :)
This entry was posted in Weird Fiction and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

1 Response to Numbers on the Wall (Part 2)

  1. Sarah says:

    Hmmmm….I don’t know about that. I was thinking that it would be more benile ending. I’m also a bit confused about which ending is what.

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