So this isn't a story I've told anyone else yet. Frankly, I never planned on telling anyone, but I haven't been able to stop thinking about what happened. It seems like every chance my mind gets to wander it goes back to that house and I see images. I hear sounds. Just small, sudden snippets of memory. I'm hoping that maybe if I share it here, in relative anonymity, I might finally be able to put it in the past.
It all happened only a month or so ago. I live in Houston. If you watch the news you might have heard that we've been having problems with flooding lately. Every other week it seems like it just pours and pours and another thousand people get flooded out of their homes. It's not so bad where I live, closer to downtown. There's a bayou nearby, but it hasn't flooded yet.
My doctor, however, is out closer to Spring, from when I lived over there. I was coming home after an appointment one afternoon during one of the worst storms. Constant lightning. Every rain drop felt and sounded like a hailstone. And with the thunder it sounded like we were getting shelled. I mean, I've never lived in a war zone or anything, but I can't imagine it's much louder than that.
I was trying to take the 10 back into the city, but it was just a nightmare. I drive a small car, which is a cardinal sin in Texas I guess, and I couldn't see anything. It felt like the wind and the water on the road were constantly trying to push me into the other lanes where the giant pick-up trucks and semis were just blasting along like it was nothing.
I got too tweaked out and abandoned the highway. I knew street traffic wouldn't be much better, at least in terms of speed, but it was much much better for my nerves. The trouble is that my internal GPS is garbage. I don't think it is. I never think it is. But it is. So I thought I was going west, when instead I was going north.
By the time I figured things out I genuinely had no idea where I was. I tried turning around on side streets and couldn't find my way back to the original road. I just kept crisscrossing through neighborhoods while the rain came down and the streets filled up. I turned down one street that looked promising, but less than 100 yards later I hit a pool of water three feet deep. My car was toast.
Beyond being incredibly pissed at myself, there wasn't really anything I could do. I threw most of the paperwork from the glove compartment into my shoulder bag and got out of the car.
There were a few houses on the street. Most looked abandoned. The water had already reached the front doors of nearly every house I could see. There was one house, however, a little further up. There was a crumbling stone path leading up to the house. It looked almost as if it had been built on a rock. It was high, though. High and dry and I could hear music coming from the house. I began making my way towards the house, walking up the slippery stone path.
There were no windows on the house. I didn't notice this until I was close. Were it not for the music, I probably wouldn't have even bothered. But the music was loud and oddly inviting. I assumed someone must have been home. I wasn't sure how excited they'd be to let a stranger into their home, but I didn't really have any other choice.
I knocked on the door. It opened, almost immediately, as if someone had been standing there waiting for me.
A woman stood in the doorway. I'm not sure of her ethnicity. Something Mediterranean if I had to guess. She was gorgeous. And when I say gorgeous, I mean gorgeous in the way that her beauty was suddenly the only thing in the world I was aware of. If I had been able to say anything just then it would have been, "Wow, you're pretty." But I couldn't speak. Not that it mattered.
While I struggled to form words to introduce and explain myself, she reached out and grabbed me by the wrists.
"Come out of the rain!" she cried, pulling me into the house. It was warm inside and that lovely music was even louder and clearer. The air smelled of cinnamon and other aromas I couldn't recognize.
Closing the door behind me, the woman pulled off my coat, then looked down. "You're soaked through!" she said, running both hands over the front of my sodden jeans. "Stay where you are."
She disappeared further into the house, while I stayed behind on the landing. The house was old, it seemed. I could hear her every footstep creaking through the house. Another woman's voice rang out. "Who is it, Agla love?"
"A man, dear Thel," replied the other woman from somewhere deep in the house. "A poor soul caught in the water."
I stood dripping in the doorway. I felt a chill come on and tried my best not to shiver. Glancing around the walls, I admired the many pictures and paintings hanging there. In between those, however, were many odd knickknacks affixed to the wall. There was a large belt buckle (a stag in bronze), a fine silver watch with a leather strap, an expensive looking pair of shoes (Italian, maybe?), a silk tie, an old pistol, a small wallet photo I couldn't quite make out from where I was standing, and much more. It seemed oddly tacky, especially given how nice everything else looked.
"Shoes off," said the woman, returning with a pile of clothing over one arm and a towel over the other. She dumped both over the back of a nearby chair and then crouched down in front of me, grabbing at my wet shoes. With nimble fingers, she unlaced and removed each in turn, setting them to the side.
"This is not a shy house," she said with a smile. "Pants off."
I finally found my voice. "I should probably..."
But she rolled her eyes, unbuttoned the jeans, and had them halfway down my thighs before I got another word in. "Off! Off! I can hear your teeth chattering. Wet clothes off."
And though it sounded like a command, in truth the woman did basically all of the work, peeling off every damp layer, one by one. If I wasn't so embarrassed and cold I would have been severely turned on.
She was kind enough to let me keep my boxers, but only long enough for her to hand me a towel and demand that I remove them myself. "I'll dry these for you," she said, bundling up my all wet clothes, including my shoes. She gestured towards the clothes on the chair. "These should fit."
They did. It was a white dress shirt and nice dress slacks, along with clean underwear and socks. I assumed they must have belonged to a brother or boyfriend. It felt weird to wear another guy's clothes, but it was better than standing around naked in a stranger's house.
By the time I was dressed she had returned, this time with another woman at her side. This woman was taller and thinner, but no less gorgeous. She reminded me of a fashion model - elegant and long-limbed.
"We're glad to have you here, out of the rain," she said. "I am Thel. This is my sister, Agla."
I introduced myself and explained what had happened.
"It is dangerous out in the water," said Agla. "Many have drowned."
"I heard the music," I said. "That's how I got here."
"Isn't it lovely?" said Thel. She grabbed my hand. "It's music for dancing."
"I'm not really a dancer," I explained, pulling away gently. But Thel wasn't having it. She pulled me into her body. She was as tall as I was. Our eyes were level.
"You don't need to be a dancer to dance," she said, cradling both hands behind my neck. Her hips pressed against mine and she began to sway in time with the music. I put my arms around her waist and let her carry me into the dance.
"You're a natural," she laughed.
"I'm just letting you lead," I replied.
The music swirled, rising and falling around us as Thel and I circled through the room.
"It's good you found us here, yes?" said Thel.
"Yes," I said, smiling. "It's very good. I just wish my car..." But she put a finger to my lips. "Don't think of that now," she said. "You're here. Do you like our house?"
"Yes," I said, my hands slipping slightly lower on her waist.
"And do like us?" she whispered into my ear.
"Yes."
I felt another set of arms encircle me from behind, laying over top of my own arms.
"You'll stay?" said Agla, her head nuzzling into the space between my shoulder blades.
"For a bit," I said. "Until the rain stops."
"Just that?" said Thel, the edge of her bottom lip brushing against the outer rim of my earlobe.
"No more?" said Agla, her hands sliding off my wrists, tracing a line from forearm to elbow to ribs to hips, before coming to a restless landing inside my pockets.
"The night?" I said, my fingers finding the outline of Thel's panties through the sheer fabric of her dress. She moaned softly as we continued our slow orbit across the room.
"More," said Agla, her questing fingers moving slowly downward and towards the center. She didn't have much further to go.
"How long?" I breathed. Thel's lips were on my neck. Agla pulled one hand from my pockets and slipped it instead down the front of my pants. We danced close to the wall. From the corner of my eye I spotted the little picture I had seen before. It was a school photo of a young boy.
"Who...?" I began to say, but Thel's mouth covered mine as Agla's hand found what it had been looking for, and I stood - warm and senseless - pressed between the two women. My clothes came back off, as did theirs, and we collapsed together on the floor.
I woke up some time later. Music still played. The air still smelled of strange, wonderful spices. I got up and crept off, in search of the bathroom. The rain still sounded outside, but I had no intention of leaving. Maybe not ever. I found the bathroom and would have returned straight to the living room, but on the way back I managed to bump against a high table, knocking a figurine to the floor. The figure rolled in a wide half-circle, slipping under a closed door. I opened the door, hoping to retrieve the figure, only to find that the door led to the basement and the figure had disappeared into the darkness.
I went down to find it.
I didn't think anything of letting myself into Agla and Thel's basement. I thought it would be worse to ignore the little figurine I had knocked over.
There was a bulb at the bottom of the stairs, but no switch at the top, so I walked down in the dark.
Halfway down I began to notice the smell. It was rank. Body odor and rotten meat. I wondered if Agla and Thel kept their garbage down there. I thought maybe they were horders.
At the bottom of the stairs, just as I reached up for the lightbulb - that's when I finally *heard* it. A low, echoing moan. Shuddering breath. Rasping. Wheezing.
I turned on the light.
Men. A pile of men. Maybe two dozen. Maybe more. All piled together like lumber. Like garbage. They were all naked. Some were dead. Some were alive, but only just. They were sick. Emaciated.
They were withered. Broken. Their faint moans became louder when I turned on the lights, but none had the strength to turn and look at me.
Across from the pile of dying, dead men was another pile. A pile of clothes. And shoes.
And there, on the edge of the pile, were my clothes.
I grabbed my pants and my shirt and my shoes, killed the light, and raced up the stairs. Agla and Thel were still asleep, but the doorknob wouldn't turn. There were no locks - it was as if the doorknob was frozen solid. And there were no windows.
Quietly as I could, I crept back into the living room and pulled the old pistol off the wall. It was heavier than I had guessed. That was good.
Tying my clothes around my neck, I went back to the door, grabbed the pistol by the barrel, raised it high, and smashed it against the doorknob.
It bent, but didn't break.
In the living room, Agla and Thel blinked and climbed to their feet.
"Where have you gone, lover?" said one of them.
I smashed the doorknob again. It still didn't break.
"He's going," said one.
"He can't," said the other. I saw their nude figures moving towards me from the corner of my eye. Frantic, I swung three times in rapid succession, missing each time.
"Stay," said one.
"Forever," said the other.
The music was so loud I couldn't hear myself think. That was probably for the best. The sixth swing finished the job. I yanked the door open and dove outside.
The music filled the outside world. I fell, sliding naked down the stone path. Only when I reached the road did I realize that the rain had stopped. The massive pool of water was gone, too. I crossed my heart and jumped inside my car.
It worked. The engine squealed to life.
As I pulled away from the curb, I looked back one last time. Agla and Thel still stood in the open doorway. Their beautiful faces were emotionless.
That's the picture I see in my mind the most these days. Their faces at that moment. Not furious. Not sad. Just impassive. Bored almost.
It finally hit me. Why they weren't upset. Because it keeps raining here. All they need to do is wait.
I never did anything to help those men. What would I do, exactly? I don't even know where that house is. I guess it feels like telling my story is the best I can do.
When it rains down here in Texas, and the water starts to rise - be careful, okay? And if you do get caught in the water and you find a house with no windows sitting high on the rocks...you may be better off just letting the water take you.
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