Nosy Parker

 Nosy Parker

Velanora Parker (Nora to her friends, if she had any) was what most people would call a nosy neighbour. She would regularly be spotted by neighbours and passersby alike, peering out from behind the net curtains of her home at 32 Blackbird Drive, where she had lived alone for the last 25 years. Many years ago, she worked as a secretary at a law firm, but now had no job and had been living for almost twenty years off a considerable inheritance from her parents. 

Velanora lived a simple life. She never went on extravagant holidays or ate in fancy restaurants. She did not own flashy cars or care for the latest gadgets. When the money came in, she could have moved, finding herself a quiet, isolated house in the country. But that was not who Velanora was. She just had to know everyone's business. In her mind, there were too many rule-breakers these days. Loud music, loud cars, inconsiderate parking, noisy children. At all times of day and night, something was going on.

The houses on Blackbird Drive and the neighbouring roads were all near identical, semi-detached boxes. Each one consisted of two floors of brown brick of various shades with two windows at the front and two at the rear. The main entrance was located at the side of the property, along with a driveway leading to a garage. At the front was a small garden, with a larger one at the rear. Inside was a living room downstairs at the front, with the kitchen and dining room at the back. A door in the kitchen led to the garden. Upstairs, there were three bedrooms, two large and one small. 

Over the years, previous and current owners had made changes to the homes. Some had added porches, and others had added conservatories. Some had converted the garage, others paved over the front garden to create more drive space. Some had added rendering, others cladding, covering the brickwork. Velanora had added her own touch to number 32. Within the roof, she had fitted two box bay windows, one on either side. The attic itself had been converted and opened up, with a chair on a track that ran between the two windows. From here, Velanora had excellent views of Blackbird Drive and the street behind, Bluetit Road. After the work had been completed, she would spend hours in what she called her ‘watchtower’, peering through a pair of binoculars, watching her neighbours and anybody else who just happened to pass by. When people asked her about the purpose of the windows (no one ever saw the chair and track for Velanora, who never had guests), she told them they were for birdwatching. They knew she was lying, and she knew that they knew, but she didn’t care.

One late summer night, Velanora was in her attic. It had been a warm day, and most people would have spent the day out and about, making the most of the nice weather before the cooler autumn days arrived. But not Velanora. She had spent most of the day watching the house to the rear and one to the left. The occupants had been having a noisy party that had been taking place since 2 pm. She had first spotted activity shortly after ten that morning, as the residents began setting up. From that point, Velanora had set up camp for the day, binoculars in hand and two thermos’ containing tea and soup respectively. Guests had started to arrive in the early afternoon, and then came the music, talking, and screaming children—all of the things she despised the most. 

It was now 8 pm. Velanora had hoped the party would have wound down by now, all the guests had left, and she could enjoy the rest of a peaceful night. But there seemed to be no signs of that happening any time soon. In fact, everything was getting louder. On a couple of occasions, she had considered picking up the phone on the table next to her and calling the police. She thought better of this- experience told her that that useless lot would do nothing. 

The click of a gate opening caught her attention. Looking to her right, she saw the shadowy form of a person entering the garden of the house next door but one, coming in from the narrow alleyway that separated the rear of the houses on the two streets. In the fading light, she could not make out any details of this person as they were covered from head to toe in black. Her immediate thought was that somebody was trying to break in. Why else would someone be dressed like that? Her hand reached for the phone when another person, similarly dressed, emerged from the house. The two figures appeared to greet each other before entering the house together.

There are certainly some strange people around these days, she thought to herself. Then another thought came to her. In all the years she had lived on Blackbird Drive, she had never known anyone to live in that house. She had never once seen anyone coming or going. There had never been loud music or parties. There had been no bright, obnoxious lights at Christmas. This frustrated Velanora; she hated not knowing something more than anything.

Before she could consider the matter further, the sound of singing caught her attention. Turning back to observe the party, she saw all the guests had gathered together. A woman emerged from the house, holding a cake with candles already lit. A man was walking to the bottom of the garden holding a box. He bent down and seemed to be setting something up, though the fence obscured the view. The man rose, then rapidly walked away. There was a sudden screech, followed by a loud bang.

Fireworks! Velanora felt her anger rise. She hated fireworks. They were awful, noisy things. Right on cue, the hairy beast next door began to bark. She tightened her grip on the binoculars as a jubilant cheer filled the air. 

Over the next several weeks, Velanora watched the rear garden of number 28 with increased intensity. The more she thought about it, the stranger the event seemed. They may not have been burglars, but something was certainly up, and she would be the one to find out. For now, Velanora ignored any minor distraction- she could not risk missing something whilst her back was turned.

Then one evening in early October, her patience finally paid off. Just as before, she heard the gate click open, and someone dressed in all black entered through the back gate. As last time, their face was covered, so she had no way of knowing whether this was the same person as before. However, this time nobody came out to meet them. Instead, they walked straight up to the door and entered the house.

This is what she had been waiting for. Velanora had long since decided not to phone the police, considering it a waste of time. Rising from the chair, she went downstairs as fast as possible and left her house, grabbing a small bag as she did. 

From the outside, number 28 looked like any other house on the street. It seemed clean and well-maintained, with clean windows and the paintwork in good order. The driveway was free of weeds, and the lawn appeared freshly cut, despite Velanora never seeing anyone outside doing these jobs- and she would have seen if they had. She had never paid much heed to the house before. There had never been any trouble from there that had been worth her time. She was surprised that the thought had never come to her before. Sure, it was the only house on the street in its original state, and there was no car parked on the drive. But looking at the house now, you could not tell that nobody lived there. Yet all of her observations over the years suggested that this had to be the case.

For a moment, she stood on the pavement outside, staring at the house. She could see that all of the curtains were drawn, but there were no signs of any lights being on. 

Velanora quietly walked up the drive when she noticed that the front door was ajar. Every instinct in her body said that she should not enter, that to do so would put her in terrible danger. But her curiosity was too high now- she just had to know. She had waited too long now just to walk away. Velanora walked up to the front door, slowly pushed it open and stepped inside.

She found herself in a hallway much like her own. A small amount of light from the setting sun entered through the narrow window, slightly illuminating the house, providing Velanora with a dim view of the interior- not that there was much to see. Whatever she had expected to find inside, it was not this. She stared at bare, unpainted walls as exposed floorboards creaked underfoot. A light fitting hung from the ceiling but contained no bulb.

Walking through an empty door frame into what should be the living room, she was greeted with a similar sight- bare walls and floorboards with the only furnishings being the thin curtains hanging over the window. 

Next, she checked the kitchen. There were no worktops or cupboards, nor any signs that any had ever been fitted. If she didn’t know any better, it seemed as if once the house had been built, it had been left an empty shell just waiting for someone to move in. But what struck her as odd was how clean everything was—no dust, no cobwebs, no signs of disrepair. Just like the exterior, it appeared as if someone had been taking care of the house even though they didn't live there. 

Maybe this has been a misunderstanding, Velanora thought. Perhaps they were just people who were taking care of the property. Dressed strangely, admittedly, but not a crime or anything immoral after all. 

Ahead of her was the back door through which the man had entered. She tried it and found it to be locked. Either the person had locked it behind themselves when they entered, or they had already left.

There was something else- a feeling she could not quite put her fingers on. Whatever it was, it made her feel on edge and uncomfortable. She felt as if something else, other than furniture, was missing.

There was now only the upstairs to explore. Velanora ascended the bare stairs, each board creaking as she did. She had not expected to find much difference from the downstairs, and was correct in her assumption. Every room was tidy, with no furnishings or doors. The bathroom contained no toilet, sink or bath. And still, she could find no trace of the person anywhere in the house. She concluded that they must have already left, either before she arrived or in a hurry when they heard her approaching. 

Velanora decided she had seen enough. She did not like the feel of the place and could find nothing of interest; after all, an empty house is not exactly a sign of wrongdoing. With a slight hint of disappointment and a lot of annoyance at all the wasted time she had dedicated, she started to head back towards the front door. Trying the handle, she found this door had also been locked. But how? It had been open before- she had entered this way. 

Two possibilities occurred to her- either someone had locked the door from the outside or, more worryingly, from inside and was still in with her. Since she had seen no places a person could hide, this would mean they had been silently walking around to avoid her. And she had been none the wiser. If they had wanted, they could have snuck up behind her at any moment.

She started to walk back to the kitchen in the hope of trying the back door again when she noticed that the door to the cupboard under the stairs was ajar. 

Was that open before? she asked herself. She was sure she would have noticed if it had been. It was also strange how this was the only door in the entire house, excluding the two exterior ones. If there was still someone in the house, then this had to be the only place they could be.

Peering inside, she found not a cupboard or a person hiding, but a set of stairs descending. This struck Velanora as odd, as she was certain none of the houses of the estate had basements. Her initial thought was that it had been added at some point, but she quickly struck this off as being unlikely. Why would someone add a basement to a house that nobody had seemingly ever lived in? The only possibility was that it had been fitted when the house was originally built. But why only this house? Whatever the case, it was likely that this was where the person had gone. 

She began to climb down the stairs. When she descended one flight, the stairs took a left turn, and then descended another. They turned again, and she walked down a third, and then a fourth.

How deep is this?  she wondered. The stairs, which had started as wood, had now become stone, spiralling down anti-clockwise further and further. Each step showed signs of wear from multiple feet that had walked on them over who knew how many years. The walls, too, were now stone, though they appeared to have been carved into rather than built with blocks. 

And still, she continued to descend. How many stairs had she now taken? A hundred? Two hundred? More? She had lost count long ago as the stairs continued to descend. 

Finally, after what felt like half an hour of descending, she finally reached the bottom of the staircase. She now found herself in a small antechamber. Ahead was a stone archway which led into a larger chamber. Walking through the archway, Velanora froze in awe. She found herself in a vast room, larger than any she had seen before. To even call it a room would be a massive understatement. There were entire buildings that could comfortably fit within its confines. She could envision multiple cathedrals being placed inside with room to spare. Though hard to tell at such a height, the distant ceiling appeared smooth as if human hands had deliberately and carefully carved it. The opposite wall seemed far away, yet it towered over her with its immense size. At various points of the walls, she could see tiny openings, much like the one she had just entered. Did these also lead to staircases like the one she had walked down? At equal points along all four walls, gigantic statues had been carved- statues of some hideous creature- Velanora found she could not look at these for too long.

This place must be beneath half the town, she thought. Her own house must certainly be up there somewhere. So many questions flooded her mind at once. How long has this been here? Who else knows about it? What is its purpose? 

Far off, in the centre of the room, Velanora could see a shape. From this distance, she was unable to make out what it was- but it looked like an object. Without being fully aware, she began to walk towards it for a closer look before coming to her senses. She realised that she had probably been here too long. Her mother had always warned Velanora that her curiosity would get her into trouble one day. It had nearly happened on a few occasions; she would not let it happen today. 

However, when she turned around, she realised that it might already be too late. A figure now stood in the archway. Where they had come from, Velanra could not tell as she had heard no indication of their approach. Nor could she tell what the person looked like as they were covered head to toe in a black cloak, the hood pulled down, obscuring their face. She could not even tell if they were male or female. Her initial assumption was that this had to be the person from the house- the one who had locked her in and potentially lured her down here. That did not matter now- all that mattered was getting out. But right now, this person was blocking the way. There were other doors that she could try to escape through, but she did not know where they led. They could all have staircases, but to where? Or they could lead to a labyrinth of tunnels in which she will become trapped forever. Velanora did not like either of those ideas. Her only option was to take the one in which she had entered. 

She took a step backwards, and the figure stepped forward. She took another step, and so did they. She stepped to her left, and they to their right. This gave Velanora an idea. If she could lure the person away from the archway and then circle around, she should make it to the staircase. There was a good chance they might chase after her. She also dreaded having to climb all those stairs. But it didn’t matter- this was the best chance she had.

She began to walk backwards and, as she had hoped, the person followed her. But looking around, she realised a flaw she had not planned for. More figures were emerging, some from the other archways and some from the one she had intended to escape from. And they were all walking towards her, seemingly herding her to the centre of the room- towards whatever that object was. Her only chance now would be to make a run for it. The chances were high that all these people were younger, stronger and faster than her, but she would be damned if she was not going down without a fight, as she was convinced these people meant her serious harm. 

Velanora did not hesitate. Making a break for it, she aimed for one of the ever-decreasing gaps between the encroaching figures, hoping they would possibly be caught off guard. They weren’t. Within seconds, one had grabbed her from behind, arms wrapped around her midriff, holding her tight. More started to arrive, two grabbing an arm each, two more her legs. Velanora started to scream, the sound echoing throughout the chamber. These were quickly silenced when another figure forcibly shoved a gag around her mouth. They then began to move her towards the centre of the room. Turning her head, she could now see what the object was- a chair. This chair was made of a black metal with what appeared to be buckles on the armrests and legs. There were also wheels and cogs- what purpose they served, Velanora dared not think about. 

When they reached the chair, they forced her into it. Despite her struggles, she could not escape as they held her down with such strength, whilst one tied down her arms and legs. The last thing Velanora saw before a bag was thrown over her head was the figures forming a circle around her.

While she could no longer see, she could still hear. And God, did she wish she couldn’t. They began to chant; a low hum at first, then growing louder. The words were in some language she had no knowledge of, yet they filled her with a dread unlike any she had felt in her life. 

As the chanting became more intense, she became aware that someone had walked up to her, followed by the sound of the wheel turning. She felt the chair move as it shifted from a seated to a lying position. Velanora felt a cold, sharp object pressed against her throat, knowing immediately that it was the steel of a knife. She knew what was about to happen and tried to beg. She pleaded for her life, made promises never to tell anyone what she had seen, and even swore never to be so nosy again for the rest of her life. But these words were never heard- the gag prevented a single one from escaping her mouth. There was a stinging sensation as the knife cut her throat. Momentarily, she felt the warmth of her blood, then Velanora knew no more.