Didn’t Hear A Thing
Soft grass tickled the soles of my bare feet as I walked through the cool forest. Colourful birds twittered gently above me, serenading my peaceful progress. Somewhere in the distance, a stream babbled and gurgled like a happy baby. All was harmony and perfection.
With no warning, a cataclysmic roar ripped the peace apart.
I opened my eyes, the dream forest snuffed out like a candle’s fragile flame.
Earthquake? No.
Tornado? Definitely not.
Alien invasion using every kind of bomb imaginable with a few unimaginable ones thrown in for good measure? Not loud enough.
Only one explanation could be given for the barrage of noise that reverberated through the building: Tim bloody Griffin.
His thunderous snores filled the house, bouncing off the walls and attacking my senses with gusto. I lay on the bed, stiff as a corpse, as his racket rang in my ears. My eyelids felt weighed down, but it was pointless giving in to gravity. Sleep would not come while Tim snored.
Uggggnnnnnnggggggggrrrgggg
Uggggnnnnnnggggggggrrrgggg
Uggggnnnnnnggggggggrrrgggg
I leapt up, fists pounding on the wall as I screamed at the top of my lungs. “For Christ’s sake, shut up!”
There was a funny choking kind of snort, followed by blessed peace. My body tensed, waiting for the onslaught, but nothing came. I settled down, nestling into the pillows and pulling the duvet up to my chin. My eyes closed again and I hoped to return to the tranquillity of my dream. The green trees hovered within a fingertip’s reach and I smiled.
Uggggnnnnnnggggggggrrrgggg
A few months ago, Tim moved in to the flat next door to mine. I’d peeped behind the curtains as I watched him trooping in with boxes and bags, hoping to get a sense of what kind of man he was. The previous tenant had been the proverbial neighbour from hell, with a constantly yapping poodle and a steady stream of noisy friends visiting at all hours for high-pitched squealing girl’s nights in. But this guy looked perfectly regular: no massive music centres, no signs of annoying musical instruments, no irritating pets.
I’d introduced myself a couple of days later, pleased when he responded in a friendly but not intrusive way. I thought he seemed to be the ideal neighbour.
And then it began.
The first night it happened, I seriously thought we were in the throes of some kind of dreadful natural disaster. I’d woken with a start, not knowing what had disturbed me. A horrible, groaning, moaning, snorting, roaring permeated my bedroom wall. I’d pressed my ear against the wall, realising with a sinking heart that the unholy din was coming from Tim, his bedroom being next to mine.
I’d hoped it was just a one off, that maybe he’d had a bit too much to drink that night, but it got worse. Sometimes I wondered if I were living in a zoo for surely no human could make such unnatural noises.
After a fortnight of disturbed sleep, I plucked up the courage to talk to him about it. He frowned and pouted before laughing like a naughty child.
“Yeah, everyone says that, but what can you do?” he’d shrugged.
My sleep-addled brain threw tact out of the window. “I don’t know. Maybe just stop it.”
“Ha, yeah, good one,” he’d laughed.
Every night was the same. I’d manage an hour or so of sleep before the Blitz started up again. I felt like a zombie as I dragged myself through the day, all dead eyes and monosyllabic grunting like a stroppy teenager.
It was official: I hated Tim.
“You look terrible.”
I glared up at the perky face peeping over the top of the cubicle. My computer screen flickered in front of me, the cursor blinking reproachfully. I wanted to smash it to pieces.
“Thanks,” I muttered. “I didn’t get much sleep last night.”
Stacey made what she obviously thought was a sympathetic face; she actually looked like she had the worst kind of trapped wind.
“Is your neighbour still snoring?”
“Yep.”
“Have you spoken to him about it?”
“Yep.”
“Maybe he’s got that medical thing. You know, where people can actually die because their breathing doesn’t work properly. It could be serious.”
“I bloody hope so.”
“Martin! That’s a terrible thing to say!” she giggled.
I struggled through the day, counting down the hours until I could escape office hell. Somehow, I managed to get to the pub where my best friend was already propping up the bar.
“At last!” Jamie said, clapping me on the back. “Jeez, what happened to you? You look like crap!”
“Don’t ask. Pint, please.”
A few pints later, I was dizzy with booze and lack of sleep.
“Maybe I’ll actually sleep tonight,” I said. “I’ve tried everything. Sleeping in the living room, the spare room, even the bloody bathroom, but I can still hear him. It’s like trying to get to sleep with a farmyard full of giant hogs.”
“Do that often do you?” Jamie smirked.
“Piss off. I’m serious, though. Tim’s gonna kill me at this rate.”
“Look, after the ale you’ve had tonight I bet you’ll sleep like a baby. Go home, get some rest.”
Eventually, I trudged off home. Silence met my ears as I closed my front door. I hurried to the bedroom, shrugged out of my clothes and flopped down on the bed, waiting for Mr Sandman to come and get me.
Only Tim had other ideas.
“That’s it!” I shouted, throwing off the duvet and storming out of the flat.
I hammered on Tim’s door, rage coursing through my veins. A few minutes later the door opened and Tim glared out at me, all bleary-eyed and tousled hair.
“Oi, what’s the racket all about?”
“Well, that’s the pot calling the kettle. Look, mate,” I said, trying to soften my anger. “You know how thin these walls are, but come on. Have a thought for me. I can’t get a wink of sleep with all your snoring.”
Tim looked me up and down and back again, his sleepy eyes resting somewhere beyond my left shoulder.
“What d’you want me to do, then, eh? Bury my head in concrete?”
I resisted the urge to say I’d help mix the cement.
“Hang on,” he added, disappearing back into his flat. He returned a minute later with a pair of headphones dangling from his meaty paw. “Try these.”
“Headphones?”
“Yeah, they’re noise cancelling. It’s the best I can do.”
Words of protest jumped to my tongue, but Tim had already shut the door in my face. I returned to my own flat and to my once-cosy bedroom. Tim’s snores had started up again. A scream boiled up inside me.
I threw myself on the bed and shoved the headphones over my head. Nothing changed. Tim’s animal noises could infiltrate Fort Knox.
The days continued. My body had tuned into Tim’s frequency, primed to react to his snoring. I even started hearing it during the day! My nerves were as brittle as the fingernails I’d bitten down to the quick.
Something had to give.
“Alright, Marty! How are the headphones?” he asked one day.
“It’s Martin,” I smiled through clenched teeth. “And the headphones are great, thanks.”
“Yeah, good one.”
“Absolutely. I’m sleeping like a baby,” I lied, loud enough for our deaf-as-a-post neighbour to hear as she shuffled past.
“So, no problems with my snoring then?”
“Oh, no, didn’t hear a thing.”
But I did.
Six months had gone by. Six months with disturbed sleep. I caught sight of a horribly haggard, gaunt young man the day before, a poor wretch who looked like he’d been locked away in the darkness. I’d raised my hand to scratch my head, frowning when the man copied my movement. And then I understood.
I was looking in a mirror. I was the horribly haggard, gaunt young man
I lay awake, staring up at the ceiling as Tim slept, snoring fit to burst. The useless headphones sat on the bedside table. I couldn’t stand it any longer. It was all I could think about. I just wanted him to stop.
I got up and paced the floor, hoping to wear myself out. But my nerves were on fire. Without realising what I was doing, my feet walked me out of the flat. Tim’s snores echoed out in the corridor. Why didn’t anyone else hear it?
I raised my hand to knock, but Tim’s door swung open; the stupid idiot hadn’t locked it properly. I stepped inside, wincing as his sonorous grunts grew louder and louder. A fug of sweat taunted my nostrils and I wrinkled my nose in disgust. There he was, a giant heap of snoring man underneath a tangle of blankets.
I leaned over him.
“Stop snoring,” I hissed. “Just. Stop. Bloody. Snoring!”
Tim’s eyes flew open, confusion etched across his eyes. Anger quickly replaced his puzzlement.
“Martin, what the –? Get out of my flat!”
He struggled to sit up, but his movements were slow and clumsy.
“I told you, Tim, I told you time and again that this has to stop.”
“Oh, piss off!”
I grinned down at him. “I don’t think so. You and I are going to sort this out once and for all.”
Sunlight filtered through the curtains, brushing against my face like a sweet caress. I opened my eyes and stretched out my limbs. Slowly, I sat up and glanced at the clock. It was a little after 8am. I felt refreshed and invigorated, ready to face the day and whatever it threw at me.
I padded around the flat, humming under my breath as I made coffee and porridge. I’d be late for work, but it wouldn’t hurt just this once. A cheery tune on the radio kept my company as I ate my breakfast, staring out of the window at the busy world below. Two police cars pulled up outside. I peered down, but couldn’t tell where the officers were heading to.
After showering and dressing I was just about to leave the flat when someone knocked at the door. A dishevelled looking man stood on the threshold, shoulders sagging as though the weight of every worry in the universe sat upon them.
“Good morning, sir. Are you Mr Martin Wright?”
“I am.”
“I’m Inspector Grey, sir. I’d like to ask a few questions about your neighbour, Mr Tim Griffin.”
“Of course.”
“Did you hear anything unusual last night?”
I shook my head.
“No sounds of a disturbance, raised voices or anything of the like?”
“Not at all. You see, I wear noise-cancelling headphones to sleep. The road out there gets dreadfully noisy at night. Is anything wrong? Tim’s not in any bother is he?” I asked.
The inspector fixed me with a grave look. His mouth turned down so far he looked like Droopy dog and I had to bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself laughing.
“It appears there was a break-in last night, sir. They made quite a mess.” The inspector cleared his throat. “I’m afraid that your neighbour is dead.”
“Oh, how awful,” I said, my hand covering my mouth in shock.
“And you’re quite sure you didn’t notice any unusual sounds from your neighbour?”
“Absolutely sure, officer. I didn’t hear a thing.”
