Cracks

Working as a natural resource specialist has never been a problem before. But when the company I work for (whose name shall be withheld) asked me to move to Spain as chairman I was a little skeptical. I knew nothing about the area and even less of the language. But the pay raise and position were too good to pass up.

The company had their own community set aside, a nice apartment complex for the workers along with an office all inside a gated area. They offered to keep me in the complex free of charge until I had enough money built up to afford a house out in town. I eagerly agreed, being single and fairly modest I didn't mind accepting a free room.

The complex was split into two buildings, the newer section which was built around twelve years ago when the company moved abroad. And the older section which I was told was already here when the company bought the land. They were going to demolish it because it had been condemned since 1963 but the company saw an opportunity for renovation and began working to get it back up.

Lucky me, when I arrived the new building was completely occupied but the older half just finished its renovations last week. I was given a bottom floor room at the far end of the building down one of the most bare and boring hallways I've ever seen in my life. It smelled of new paint and everything had a fresh look to it.

Unpacking was easy and I began work the very next day. I worked long hours setting up my new office and getting to know the staff. I arrived to my apartment at night. I was about to enter my room when I noticed a small crack in the wall leading from the end of the hallway about two feet along the wall towards my door frame. It was hairline thin and so not a problem I thought. I shrugged it off and went inside.

Work lasted long hours again the next day and I returned about the same time as the night before. I glanced over to the crack and noticed it had spread slightly further down the wall. I walked over to investigate it. It was deep, much deeper than what it appeared to be from a distance. I could also hear what sounded like wind coming from the other side. I used my cellphone's light to peer in but I saw nothing. I called the maintenance manager who said he would arrive first thing tomorrow morning.

I woke up to him knocking on my door. He asked where the crack was so I went to the spot where it was but…the crack was gone. He said I probably imagined it, trying to shrug me away politely. I could tell he thought I was crazy. I returned later that night after work and looked for the crack, there it was plain as day, even longer than it was before. It was now getting closer to the frame of my door. I took a sharpie and drew a line where the crack ended. I also took my camera and got a picture of the crack (being sure to include my door in the photo). I was going to wait another night and see if the crack grew anymore, I was starting to feel a little crazy myself.

The next morning it was gone but my line was still drawn on the wall. I went to work and spent a little extra time filing papers and organizing my space trying to work till night. I returned to my apartment and discovered I was right. The crack was there again and it grew past my line. Now it was just a couple feet from my door. I called maintenance again, telling them I had photographic proof this time. Sounding annoyed he said tomorrow morning he would come check it again.

Waking up to his knock again was a little nerve racking. I greeted him at my door with the picture of the crack and told him I was not making this up. He looked at the picture and was a little surprised I had some credible evidence of it. He said he could chip a small hole in the wall to see if there was any issue with the concrete of the wall. But if nothing was found I would have to pay for damage and repairs.

He chiseled a small hole about the size of a quarter into the general area where the crack was before. He took out a big mag light and flashed it into the hole, peering inside. He searched for a few minutes before saying he saw something. It looked old and made of cloth. Curious himself he made the hole slightly bigger. Now he had much more depth inside. He looked in the hole and exclaimed in a shocked voice he found something that looked human.

He left to return moments later with a sledgehammer. He began to bust large sections of concrete away. To our horror we discover a mummified human corpse, encased in a hollow section in the wall. We immediately call the police. They spend hours taking away large pieces of the wall, recovering over a dozen mummified human bodies. I was informed by the police later this building was owned by a mafia crime lord in the past and this was probably left over from their days in charge. They also told me my apartment was safe to stay in as it didn't interfere with the crime scene. I toyed with the thought that the cracks were signs from beyond, some other worldly entities trying to acknowledge their existence so that someone would notice and set them free so they could rest in peace.

I'm writing this…as my suicide note. I was right about one thing, they wanted to be free. They're here now, their faces pressed up against my window, their undead eyes never blinking, following my every step. Some of them are even at my door, scratching and pounding trying to find a way in. I'd rather end my own life than to join the ranks of the undead. I'm sorry, please forgive me.