This is another version of the story. Still not right though. Not menacing enough. Different ending though. Went to Green’s gym in Chingford a couple of weeks ago. No heating pillar and stupid light in their steam room. That got me thinking.

‘Whoever’s in there, I wish they’d stop that tapping.’
Jeff smiled to himself. He was alone. In the steam room.

The steam room.
Jeff enjoyed the time he spent here. After a work-out in the gym or a few lengths of the pool, he looked upon it as a reward. He could sit in the relative quiet, recover his breath, feel his heart rate slow and reflect on the events of his day. As other occupants were virtually hidden from him by the combination of steam and subdued blue lighting, there was no pressure to socialise. He was free to sweat and ponder in peace.
Recently, the steam room had been forced to close for three or four days due to some malfunction. For almost a week, a small, yellow, plastic figure with a Stop sign on its chest stood guard in front of the door while members made do with the adjoining sauna.When the steam room reopened, users discovered that a number of alterations had been made. Although some grumbled, particularly the long established members, the modifications were generally well received, probably as enough had been left untouched so keep a familiar feel. The blue mosaic tiles that flowed down the walls and across the concrete seat beneath, they were still there, along with the large grey ones that covered the floor. Jeff noted that its unevenness hadn’t been corrected. Bathers who sat to the right of the entrance would still have their feet in a shallow puddle.The biggest change was in the location of the waist high pillar that held the heating elements. Originally, it had been fixed in the centre of the room. Now, probably as a result of some health & safety dictat, it stood in front of the back wall, directly opposite the glass door.A lighting feature had been attached to the top of the pillar. A moulded plastic pillar, like a minature standing-stone, a couple of feet tall, its dull glow gradually changed through a sequence of colours. Together with the glow from those blue ceiling lights, through the haze, Jeff felt it created an almost psychedelic atmosphere that he quite liked. He was particularly taken with the light that changed colour. In the ever-present steamy fog and blue murk, he found that if he half closed his eyes, it appeared to be floating in air.
Not long after the reopening, he first heard the noise. It seemed to come from the new heating column, beneath the plastic pillar. Almost imperceptible at first, he sensed a slow, metallic tapping. Never loud, the volume would gradually increase and fade back to nothing over three or four minutes. Perhaps it had always been there, but after that first time, he was aware of it at some point during each session.
Week day afternoons between lunch and school closing, the gym was usually quiet. If he could get out of work for an hour or two Jeff always especially enjoyed a steam room session at such times.On this particular day, shortly after he’d uttered his witty remark, he was joined by an athletic young man. Stomach muscles held tight, he sat tall, straight, breathing deeply. He had the kind of body Jeff thought he might have had once.
The tapping began again. As it grew louder, the athlete glanced towards the heater. This was the first time Jeff had seen someone else acknowledge the sound.
A splendid opportunity to try out the quip. To be sociable.
‘Whoever’s behind that wall, I wish they’d let him out!’ He followed up with a smile. Just to make it clear he was joking. That he wasn’t mad.
He couldn’t gauge the reaction. The murky blue fog didn’t allow for detailed facial analysis. The athlete hadn’t smiled though. So Jeff followed up with an exaggerated half laugh. To reassure. The younger man nodded, returned a semi-smile of his own, and left. Rather quickly, Jeff thought.

Tap … tap … tap …

He’d never really understood the phrase ‘a sharp intake of breath. Fleetingly, he considered just how apt it was right now though, as the old Scotsman wrapped his huge hand around Jeff’s genitals and squeezed hard.The Scotsman had moved so fast across the steam room, grabbed an arm, twisted it round his back and made a bid for the groin with the other hand. Jeff was now facing the blue tiled wall. His face was, in fact, rammed up against it.
He’d witnessed the testicle grip a number of times before in cop shows and films. Never in real life though. He’d wondered whether it could ever be used in actual fisticuffs. Considered just exactly how one would go about perfecting such a technique. In other forms of hand-to-hand combat one could go to classes, join a club, enter competitions or at least practise with friends. With this though, they might get the wrong idea at the suggestion of a crutch-grabbing session. Telling them you wouldn’t squeeze too hard could actually make the situation worse.
Jeff wasn’t thinking about that right now, though. He only had room in his head for the excruciating pain he was suffering.
Things hadn’t gone too well since he’d first tried out that quip, exactly a week ago.For the first forty years, Jeff’s life could have been described as humdrum. Indeed, even within the parameters of humdrum, there’d been far more hum than drum. He’d been contented enough with his wife, couple of kids, decent house and job. Since celebrating his ‘big 4-O’ as they call it nowadays, he’d begun to wonder whether there wasn’t more to life than what he’d encountered up until a week ago. Now he was discovering there certainly was, and this was it.
Though the remark had not been received with a howl of laughter that first time, he’d still thought it quite witty himself.The following Saturday, after a particularly grueling shopping expedition with the family, even though the afternoon was turning to evening, he decided to nip down to the gym for a quick swim and a steam. Completing his regular number of lengths, he stepped into the steam room. It was quite full this time. There were at least three people seated on each side and a couple at the end beside the heating element. Through the steam, he thought he could discern another figure seated on one of the ledges above and behind the seat. These were the hardy individuals who demanded higher temperatures than those reached at the lower altitude where Jeff and other mortals sat.
Sitting down heavily, he took three or four deep breaths and felt his heart rate beginning to slow. The drops of water on his skin gradually began to feel less like wetness from the pool and more like beads of sweat. He always enjoyed that halfway point where he couldn’t quite tell how far he’d moved along the process. He’d promised himself that one time he would try drying thoroughly before stepping into the steam room and then see how long it took him to reach overall sweat wetness.
He looked around at his companions. Some were chatting to those sitting beside them while others called across the room. These tended to be the younger ones. Their chatter was banter. On other occasions it might have become raucous but at this time in the evening they were in good humour. Jeff imagined their steam session being a pre-cursor to a night of drink and merriment. Some of the couples were around the same age as Jeff himself or a little older. He guessed that they would be looking forward to a meal out and a glass or two before going home to the TV. He smiled across at those he recognised as regulars he’d seen and spoken to before.
Just as the conversations and chatter seemed to have reached a conclusion, the tapping began. Like before, it was very quiet at first. As it grew louder and Jeff scanned the faces around the room. Nobody seemed to be aware of it at all. Some were stretching while others just looked at the floor, absorbing the heat.
He took the break in conversation as an opportunity to try the comment once more. He chose to address it to the man opposite who happened at that moment to be looking in his general direction.
‘Don’t know who it might be behind there,’ he nodded towards the heater, ‘but I wish he’d stop that knocking!’
Again, no guffaws of laughter but there were enough smiles and nods to give Jeff the impression his remark had gone down well. Among present company he would be marked from now on as something of a wit, he thought.
However, as sank back into the glow of his own humour he became conscious of the man opposite, staring back at him, looking anything but amused.
Later, as he showered and changed, he became aware that each time he momentarily glanced across the room while drying his hair or tying laces, he felt sure the man was watching him. There he was, in the reflection of a shaving mirror. And again, this time looking directly, from across the room.
Out in the foyer, there he was once more, on his mobile, still looking across as Jeff gulped on a glass of juice. Jeff sensed that he was the topic of conversation in that phone call.
On the short walk across the darkened car park, Jeff was startled by a vehicle that seemed to flash its headlights at him before reversing quickly out of its space. It sped off, brakes squealing, wheels spinning, He stood looking after it.
Ten minutes or more went by as he sat motionless in the darkness of his car, trying to remember how the man had reacted when he’d fired off that remark. Why did he always have to make a fool of himself, trying to come across as clever or funny? Gradually he began to calm down. By the time he started the engine and set off for home, he’d convinced himself there was no problem. The man had just thought him a smart arse. Jeff had merely witnessed him sharing the episode with a friend on the phone, that’s all. As for the car, he couldn’t even be sure the man was behind the wheel.

But now, almost exactly a week after his fateful decision to become the joker, here he was with his face pushed up against the steam room wall, his genitals in the vice-like grip of this Scotsman.By the time he’d entered the steam room today, Jeff had convinced himself that his fears of Saturday evening had been nothing more than a series of coincidences, fueled by his own rampant imagination. Even though he was joined once more by the man who had seemed so menacing only two days previously, together with the athlete who had first witnessed his quip, he’d been confident that there wouldn’t be any trouble.
Ironically, this had mostly been due to the presence of the Scotsman. Jeff had seen him so many times before, either in the steam room or relaxing in a pool-side chair. They’d chatted together on a number of occasions. Or at least, the Scotsman had chatted, usually to complain about the pain in his back or knees as he slowly performed various stretching exercises. Other times he’d tell Jeff about how well his children had done in life and in which foreign parts they now resided. Jeff had occasionally become so bored or irritated by his ramblings, he’d make an excuse about needing to get back to work and leave.
Today, though, the Scotsman had been most welcome.
That is, until he’d leapt across the room, before Jeff had even begun to think about reacting, and put him in this current predicament.
Jeff noticed through his tears that the athlete was now standing just outside the glass door and menacing man had formed a secondary defensive position, also near the door, on the inside.
At last, the Scotsman broke the silence.
‘So. Jeff. Let’s get straight to the point. Cut to the chase, as they say. I want to know … what you know … about the person behind that wall.’ He nodded towards the heating element.
‘I don’t know anything…’ Jeff whimpered, and squealed, as the Scotsman tightened his grip on the tender spot.
‘Jeff … Jeff,’ the Scotsman continued, in a quiet, menacing tone. ‘My friends and I know … you know something …’
‘ … I don’t …’
‘ … oh Jeff …’ now he sounded like a mother gently chastising her naughty toddler. But there was no loosening of his grip. ‘Twice. Twice you said that there was someone behind that wall. You pointed to the exact spot. My friends saw you. Even today, Jeff. When the noises began, you knew exactly where they were coming from. Well I’ve got some news for you, Jeff. As you will find, there is some one behind the wall …’
As Jeff took in these words, he became aware of a sharp pain in his arm and a grating sound, like stone being pulled across stone.
The Scotsman’s face began to change, seeming to absorb the blueness of the room. Around the yellowing, bulbous eyes, Jeff saw the emergence of scales … gills … a snout, growing outwards and forwards towards him. When the Scotsman spoke next, it was in a hoarse whisper, as if blown through water.
‘We need you, Jeff … we need you …’
As his terror grew, the physical pain decreased. He fought desperately to stay awake. Across the room, he saw Menacing Man, a man no more, a lizard-like thing, floundering, gulping…

… he’s awakened by the light. From within its warm glow, he can look out across the room, sensing movement. As his heart pumps, and the days become weeks, there’s the slow rhythmic tapping. And the colours changing slowly …

… tap … tap … tap …
As visiting members, from other branches of the Aqualeisure chain of gyms and health spas, have remarked, this one’s almost identical to theirs. ‘It’s like being in a parallel universe,’ they say. ‘Apart from the steam room. That’s different. What’s that weird pillar with the light all about?.’

Tags: ickledot, writings

This is about the third version and it’s still not quite what I’m after. Not enough menace. See what you think.

The steam room. Jeff enjoyed the time he spent here.  It usually followed a tiring work-out in the gym or a few lengths of the pool, so he looked upon it as a reward. He could sit in the relative quiet, recover his breath, feel his heart rate slow and reflect on the events of his day.  As other occupants were virtually hidden from him by the combination of steam and subdued blue lighting, there was no pressure to socialise. He was free to sweat and ponder in peace.
Recently, the steam room had been closed for three or four days. A yellow plastic figure with a Stop sign on its chest stood guard in front of the door.
When the steam room reopened, a number of improvements had been made.  There were grumbles, particularly from long established members but, generally, the modifications were well received, probably as enough had been left untouched so keep a familiar feel.  The blue mosaic tiles that flowed down the walls and across the concrete seat beneath, they were still there, along with the large grey ones that covered the floor. Jeff noted that its unevenness hadn’t been corrected. Bathers who sat to the right of the entrance would still have their feet in a shallow puddle.
The biggest change was the in the placement of the waist high pillar that held the heating elements. Originally, it had been fixed in the centre of the room. Now, probably as a result of some health & safety dictat, it was fixed to the back wall, directly opposite the room’s entrance.
A lighting feature had been attached to the top of the pillar. A moulded plastic standing stone, a couple of feet tall, its dull glow gradually moved through a sequence of colours.  Together with the glow from those blue ceiling lights, through the haze, Jeff felt it created an almost psychedelic atmosphere that he quite liked. He was particularly taken with the light that changed colour. In the steam and semi-darkness, he found that if he half closed his eyes it appeared to be floating in air.
It wasn’t long after the steam room reopening that he’d first heard the noise. It cam from the new heating column, beneath the plastic pillar.   Almost imperceptible at first, he sensed a slow, metallic tapping. Never loud, the volume would gradually increase and fade back to nothing over three or four minutes.  Perhaps it had always been there, but after that first time, he was aware of it at some point during each session.
Week day afternoons between lunch and school closing, the gym was usually quiet. If he could get out of work for an hour or two Jeff always especially enjoyed a steam room session at such times.
On this particular Monday, he was joined by only one other individual: an athletic young man. Stomach muscles held tight, he sat tall, straight, breathing deeply. He had the kind of body Jeff thought he might have had once.
It wasn’t long before the tapping began.  As it grew louder, the young athlete glanced towards the heater.  This was the first time Jeff had seen someone else acknowledge the sound.
‘Whoever’s behind that wall, I wish they’d let him out!’ he quipped. To be sociable. He followed up with a smile. Just to make it clear he was joking.  That he wasn’t mad.
He couldn’t gauge the reaction. The murky blue atmosphere didn’t allow detailed facial analysis. The athlete hadn’t smiled though. So Jeff followed up with the sort of exaggerated half laugh, to reassure.  The younger man nodded, returned semi-smiled of his own and left. Rather quickly, Jeff thought.

Tap … tap … tap …

He’d never really understood the phrase ‘a sharp intake of breath. Fleetingly, he considered just how apt it was right now though, as the old Scotsman wrapped his huge hand around Jeff’s genitals and squeezed hard.
The Scotsman had moved across the steam room so swiftly, grabbed an arm, twisted it round his back and made a bid for the groin with the other hand. Jeff was now facing the tiled wall. His face was, in fact, rammed up against it.
Jeff had witnessed the testicle grip a number of times before in cop shows and films. Never in real life though. He’d wondered whether it could ever be used in actual fisticuffs. He’d considered just exactly how one would go about perfecting such a technique. In other forms of hand-to-hand combat one could go to classes, join a club, enter competitions or at least practise with friends. With this though, they might get the wrong idea at the suggestion of a crutch-grabbing session.  Telling them you wouldn’t squeeze too hard could actually make the situation worse.
Jeff wasn’t thinking about that right now, though. He only had room in his head for the excruciating pain he was suffering.
Things hadn’t gone too well since he’d first made that quip exactly a week ago.
For the first forty years or so, Jeff’s life could have been described as humdrum. Indeed, even within the parameters of humdrum, there’d been far more hum than drum. He’d been contented enough with his wife, couple of kids, decent house and job. Since celebrating his ‘big 4-O’ as they call it nowadays, he’d begun to wonder whether there wasn’t more to life than what he’d encountered up until a week ago. Now he was discovering there certainly was, and this was it.
Though the quip had not been received with a howl of laughter that first time, he’d thought it quite witty himself.
The following Saturday, following a particularly grueling shopping expedition with the family, even though the afternoon was turning to evening, he decided to nip down to the gym for a quick swim and a steam. Completing his regular number of lengths, he stepped into the steam room. It was quite full this time. There were at least three people seated on each side and a couple at the end beside the heating element. Through the steam, he thought he could discern another figure seated on one of the ledges above and behind the seat. These were the hardy individuals who demanded higher temperatures than those reached at the lower altitude where Jeff and other mortals sat.
Sitting down heavily, he took three or four deep breaths and felt his heart rate beginning to slow. The drops of water on his skin gradually began to feel less like wetness from the pool and more like beads of sweat. He always enjoyed that halfway point where he couldn’t quite tell how far he’d moved along the process. He’d promised himself that one time he would try drying thoroughly before stepping into the steam room and then see how long it took him to reach overall sweat wetness.
He looked around at his companions. Some were chatting to those sitting beside them while others called across the room. These tended to be the younger ones. Their chatter was banter. On other occasions it might have become raucous but at this time in the evening they were in good humour. Jeff imagined their steam session being a pre-cursor to a night of drink and merriment. Some of the couples were around the same age as Jeff himself or a little older. He guessed that they would be looking forward to a meal out and a glass or two before going home to the TV. He smiled across at those he recognised as regulars he’d seen and spoken to before.
Just as the conversations and chatter seemed to have reached a conclusion, the tapping began. Like before, it was very quiet at first.  As it grew louder and Jeff scanned the faces around the room. Nobody seemed to be aware of it at all. Some were stretching while others just looked at the floor, absorbing the heat.
He took the break in conversation as an opportunity to try the comment once more. He chose to address it to the man opposite who happened at that moment to be looking in his general direction.
‘Don’t know who it might be behind there,’ he nodded towards the heater, ‘but I wish he’d stop that knocking!’
Again, no guffaws of laughter but there were enough smiles and nods to give Jeff the impression his remark had gone down well. Among present company he would be marked from now on as something of a wit, he thought.
However, as sank back into the glow of his own humour he became conscious of the man opposite, staring back at him, looking anything but amused.
Later, as he showered and changed, he became aware that each time he momentarily glanced across the room while drying his hair or tying laces, he felt sure the man was watching him. There he was, in the reflection of a shaving mirror. And again, this time looking directly, from across the room.
Out in the foyer, there he was once more, on his mobile, still looking across as Jeff gulped on a glass of juice. Jeff sensed that he was the topic of conversation in that phone call.
On the short walk across the darkened car park, Jeff was startled by a vehicle that seemed to flash its headlights at him before reversing quickly out of its space. It sped off, brakes squealing, wheels spinning, He stood looking after it.
Ten minutes or more went by as he sat motionless in the darkness of his car, trying to remember how the man had reacted when he’d fired off that remark. Why did he always have to make a fool of himself, trying to come across as clever or funny? Gradually he began to calm down. By the time he started the engine and set off for home, he’d convinced himself there was no problem. The man had just thought him a smart arse. Jeff had merely witnessed him sharing the episode with a friend on the phone, that’s all. As for the car, he couldn’t even be sure the man was behind the wheel.

But now, almost exactly a week after his fateful decision to become the joker, here he was with his face pushed up against the steam room wall, his genitals in the vice-like grip of this Scotsman.
By the time he’d entered the steam room today, Jeff had convinced himself that his fears of Saturday evening had been nothing more than a series of coincidences, fueled by his own rampant imagination.  Even though he was joined once more by the man who had seemed so menacing only two days previously, together with the athlete who had first witnessed his quip, he’d been confident that there wouldn’t be any trouble.
Ironically, this had mostly been due to the presence of the Scotsman. Jeff had seen him so many times before, either in the steam room or relaxing in a pool-side chair.  They’d chatted together on a number of occasions. Or at least, the Scotsman had chatted, usually to complain about the pain in his back or knees as he slowly performed various stretching exercises. Other times he’d tell Jeff about how well his children had done in life and in which foreign parts they now resided.  Jeff had occasionally become so bored or irritated by his ramblings, he’d make an excuse about needing to get back to work and leave.
Today, though, the Scotsman had been most welcome.
That is, until he’d leapt across the room, before Jeff had even begun to think about reacting, and put him in this current predicament.
Jeff noticed through his tears that the athlete was now standing just outside the glass door and menacing man had formed a secondary defensive position, also near the door, on the inside.
At last, the Scotsman broke the silence.
‘So. Jeff. Let’s get straight to the point. Cut to the chase, as they say. I want to know … what you know … about the person behind that wall.’ He nodded towards the heating element.
‘I don’t know anything…’ Jeff whimpered, and squealed, as the Scotsman tightened his grip on the tender spot.
‘Jeff … Jeff,’ the Scotsman continued, in a quiet, menacing tone. ‘My friends and I know … you know something …’
‘ … I don’t …’
‘ … oh Jeff …’ now he sounded like a mother gently chastising her naughty toddler. But there was no loosening of his grip.  ‘Twice. Twice you said that there was someone behind that wall.  You pointed to the exact spot. My friends saw you. Even today, Jeff.  When the noises began, you knew exactly where they were coming from. Well I’ve got some news for you, Jeff. As you will find, there is some one behind the wall …’
As Jeff took in these words he was aware of a sharp pain in his arm and a sound like stone being pulled across stone.
The Scotsman’s face began to change. It seemed to absorb the blueness of the room. Around the yellowing, bulbous eyes, Jeff saw scales … gills … a snout that seemed to grow outwards, towards him.  When the Scotsman spoke next, it was in a hoarse whisper, as if blown through water.
‘We need you, Jeff … we need you …’
As his terror grew, the physical pain decreased and as he fought desperately to stay awake, across the room he saw the menacing man, a man no more, a lizard-like thing, floundering, gulping…

… he was awakened by the light. From within its warm glow, he could look out across the room, sensing movement.  As his heart pumps, and the days become weeks, there’s the slow rhythmic tapping.
And the colours changing slowly …
… tap … tap … tap …

As members from other branches of the Aqualeisure chain of gyms and health spas have remarked, this one’s almost identical to theirs. ‘It’s like being in a virtual universe,’ they say.  ‘Apart from the steam room. That’s different. Strange lighting effect.’

Tags: writings

Been recently writing a little story based on the steam room I frequent at my local gym. Having reached the point where I thought it was finished last Monday evening, I read it out at my Writing Group on Tuesday. Got a favourable response, but now I’m not as content with it. Needs more atmosphere … and atmos-fear!

Tags: gym, steam room, writings