“All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.”
― Leo Tolstoy, Anna Karenina
When we moved into the duplex on Sycamore Street, the realtor mentioned the previous tenants had left abruptly. “Family matters,” she said, avoiding eye contact. She never mentioned which family – the ones upstairs or down – or why the wall between the units was so thick.
At first, the arrangement seemed perfect. Two stories, two families, divided by solid construction. The Hendersons lived upstairs: quiet, polite, never complained about my daughter’s piano practice. We barely heard them, except for the occasional footsteps that tracked across their floor in the middle of the night.
Then the whispering started. It came from inside the shared wall – soft at first, like radio static. My daughter said she could hear children laughing inside her closet, which backed against that wall. “They want to play,” she said, “but they can’t find their way out.”
The Hendersons noticed it too. Mrs. Henderson mentioned hearing my daughter’s piano at 3 AM, though we’d been asleep. The music she described wasn’t any piece my daughter knew – something older, discordant, played by hands that seemed to have too many fingers.
Last week, I found my daughter talking to the wall. When I asked who she was speaking to, she said, “The other families. They’re all in there.” She pointed to the flowered wallpaper, where the pattern seemed to shift when viewed directly, forming faces that disappeared in your peripheral vision.
Yesterday, Mrs. Henderson disappeared. Mr. Henderson said she’d gone to visit family, but I saw her car still parked outside. That night, I heard her voice coming from inside the wall, calling for help. When I pressed my ear against the wallpaper, I felt something press back.
The realtor finally told me the truth. This house has always been a duplex, but not in the conventional sense. The wall doesn’t separate the units – it collects them. Every family that’s ever lived here is still here, layered like geological strata within the wall’s impossible thickness.
This morning, I found my daughter’s room empty, the wallpaper peeled back revealing not plaster, but a darkness that breathes. I can hear her piano playing from somewhere deep inside, accompanied by countless other instruments, a symphony of trapped souls.
Mr. Henderson is gone now too. I’m alone in this house that’s never empty. The wall grows thicker every day, and the whispers are getting louder. They’re calling my name, inviting me to join the neighborhood inside.
After all, there’s always room for one more family in these walls.
With this map you get:
- grid & gridless variations
- PNG files, low (70 PPI) & high (140 PPI) resolutions
- splatter & abandoned variations
- floor plan
- dd2vtt files for FoundryVTT & Roll20
- High-resolution WebP files
Two Story House for Two Families – Ground Floor – Day
Two Story House for Two Families – First Floor – Day
Two Story House for Two Families – Ground Floor – Night
Two Story House for Two Families – First Floor – Night
Two Story House for Two Families – Ground Floor – Splatter – Day
Two Story House for Two Families – First Floor – Splatter – Day
Two Story House for Two Families – Ground Floor – Splatter – Night
Two Story House for Two Families – First Floor – Splatter – Night
Two Story House for Two Families – Ground Floor – Abandoned – Day
Two Story House for Two Families – First Floor – Abandoned – Day
Two Story House for Two Families – Ground Floor – Abandoned – Night
Two Story House for Two Families – First Floor – Abandoned – Night
Two Story House for Two Families – Ground Floor – Floor plan
Two Story House for Two Families – First Floor – Floor plan
