1209

Submitted to archives 12 June 1989, Subject: Unusual wood carving, undated

I had been collecting antiques for a long time. I couldn’t walk past a little shop without feeling compelled to stop inside and take a look at the various objects that they were selling. I was in a small town in Michigan and I happened upon a store that offered various old toys and antiques found in families’ attics and the like. I browsed for about twenty minutes or so and decided that there wasn’t anything interesting until I was on my way out of the shop when I stumbled upon the wood carving.

It was the image of a sort of fish. I couldn’t tell what type of fish it was purporting to display but I did find the fact that it had a very human face rather charming. It wasn’t a creepy sort of face, but rather one that would make an interesting centerpiece if I decided to affix it to a bureau or desk. I decided I would purchase it and did so promptly. The clerk almost seemed relieved to see it go.

“About time that old thing gets bought, I figured it would outlast me here,” she said, completing the sale. She packaged it carefully into its bag and then handed it to me. I took it, noting that it didn’t seem as heavy as I thought it would have.

“Nobody show much interest in it? I think it has a unique sort of charm. I like to repurpose things, so I want to use it as a centerpiece.”

“No, it's just always hung there. I’d be careful with it, if I were you,” she said, picking up her rag and continuing to wipe the counter.

“Oh, I won’t damage it, if that’s what you mean,” I said, getting ready to leave the shop for my next stop on my way home. She smiled, it wasn’t a happy smile. There was a strange look in her eye as she said very carefully:

“That isn’t what I meant, if you’ll excuse me, have a good day.”

On the way home I kept thinking about the wood carving. I decided that it would look best mounted onto something made of dark wood. I wondered what bits I had floating around my storage barn. I had a woodshop set up, and could retool it if I needed to but I kept thinking that it was perfect just the way it was.

After taking all of my purchases into the house, I headed straight to the barn. I considered all of the different things I could affix it to, but decided that I would wait and let it sort of ‘reveal’ what sort of thing it was destined to be. I headed back into the house.

The thing looked nice in my kitchen, it matched the nautical theme that my wife wanted to use but I couldn’t quite decide if I wanted it here. I decided that for now, I would just place it on top of the microwave on one of those little picture stands. My wife didn’t share my delight at the piece but agreed that it would probably sell well. She told me to find some way to use it or get it out of the kitchen.

That evening, I stood in my kitchen trying to decide between a shot of whiskey or a mug of tea to unwind for the evening when I heard a strange sound coming from my garbage disposal. I leaned in to get a closer listen, it sounded at first just like bubbling air gargling its way up the pipe. This happens from time to time in old plumbing found in even older houses. It changed from an incoherent bubbling to almost sounding like words.

Something grabbed me from behind and I nearly jumped, I let out a sharp sound. I’d like to convince myself that it sounded manly but my wife’s barking laughter told me that I had probably sounded very much like a startled child. I turned on her, my breath ragged.

“You scared the hell out of me!” I accused. She looked apologetic, but the twinkle of laughter still danced on her face. She softened her expression when she saw that I was still shaken.

“Are you alright? Mike? What’s wrong?” she asked.

“I thought I heard…never mind. It’s foolish. Probably just been a long day,” I said. There were no more sounds coming from the sink. She rubbed my shoulder.

“You should probably just have the whiskey tonight then, let’s call it a night. I’m beat, too.” I decided that perhaps she was right and filled a short glass with whiskey and took a solid pull on it. The burning warmth spreading through me, I felt even more foolish about being spooked by strange sounds in the sink. Even if they sounded nearly like words.

I was off work the next day and when I came out into the kitchen to get my morning cup of coffee I saw that the wood carving looked different to me. Less jovial. It was a subtle change but I think the novelty was wearing off and my wife was right, the sooner I rework this piece and sell it off the better. Otherwise I’ll probably just end up throwing the thing in a bin and forgetting about it like so many other things.

I decided that I was going to affix it to the front of a short cabinet. I knew of an annual fishing event that offered vendor space and I had a few other ‘fisherman’ themed items that I would be selling, I figured I could at least snag a few hundred dollars for it from the right buyer. I first spend a weekend refinishing the cabinet and then another afternoon carefully restoring the wood carving. I realized that there was just a layer of muck on the face of the thing and after carefully applying a light-duty stripper and polishing it up that the eyes were actually colored dark green.

Something about it tickled an instinct in me. I moved the project from the garage to the woodshop, I told my wife that it was because of upcoming weather and we would want to park the cars inside. I couldn’t quite bring myself to tell her that it was also because I didn’t like looking at it anymore. It felt like I was looking at something I shouldn’t have. With any luck, it would be out of our hair in a few short weeks.

I heard the strange sounds in the sink again. They were definitely forming words but not in any language that I thought I knew. My wife heard them this time too, and agreed that we should probably have a plumber come take a look at the sink because it could be a nasty clog forming. I don’t think she shared my view that they were words. I told her that I was pretty handy with a toolbox and I would take a look at it myself first, maybe save us the money.

I tore it apart that night. I carefully took all of the plumbing apart that I could easily access and marveled at what I had found. Nothing. All of the pipes were clear. Some of them were clearly aged. I even snaked the drain itself, the part of the piping that went under the house and into the sewer system. As far as the equipment I had available to me, there was nothing wrong with the drain. That almost felt remarkable in and of itself.

Thick, heavy rain clouds moved in over the next couple of days. The weatherman on the evening news said to settle in for a heavy rain. The clouds delivered on his promise. It was a heavy summer storm. The kind that just dumps water in unending sheets. I was worried that our basement was going to flood. With this new crisis, the strange sounds in the plumbing took a second seat.

I pulled on my thick rubber boots and went downstairs. We didn’t use the basement as it was largely unfinished but I didn’t want mold creeping up through the house when I was in a position to stop it. I flicked on the light, and the bare bulb illuminated the space. It wasn’t a large space and the walls and floors were made of brick. This meant that whenever it rained in any decent amount that water would inevitably seep up through the floors and ooze in from the walls.

A loose brick had been dislodged from the wall and water was more or less pouring into the basement from the surrounding ground. Fucking wonderful. I picked up the brick and went to shove it back into its place when I saw something that made my blood run cold. Reaching blindly in through the hole in the wall was a thin, slimy green colored hand.

It terminated in four webbed fingers that gently grasped at the air. I heard that strange bubbling language again. I let out a cry and hit at the hand with the brick. It flinched and withdrew into the hole. The language I heard coming from within the hole grew agitated and I thought I heard distinctly different voices. I shoved the brick back into place, it did little to stem the flow of the water but I hauled ass back up the stairs and slammed the door shut, locking it behind me. My wife stood in the kitchen behind me and raised an eyebrow over her mug of coffee.

I don’t think that I ever really told her why I wanted to sell the place but when I insisted she relented and we ended up moving later that year. I told her I wanted to leave some of the furniture behind to help furnish the place. The master bedroom was an excellent place to put a small cabinet with a strange wood carving. I haven’t had any unusual experiences since then.