At 8:12, It Stops.
I don’t exactly know when my neighbour started laughing. That’s the strange thing - because I am the sort of person who notices. I notice when the postman is late. I notice when the streetlight flickers. I noticed when the Potashnik’s across the street painted their door a deep green from the prior turquoise. So, not knowing when the laughter started should be impossible. Every night at 8pm sharp it starts. A low chuckle builds into a howl, and then something more wet and rhythmic. As soon as 8:12 hits, the laughing stops. A week ago I timed it. Exactly 12 minutes. It began exactly at 8. It finished exactly at 8:12. I’ve never known a process so perfectly executed. It’s almost uncanny.
It was 7:52pm one night. I stood outside his house. The windows were an unnatural tint of grey but I could still make out shapes on the other side. The unsettling part was the only shape I could make out was a wooden chair, facing a wall. There was nothing else. After three minutes I walked away back to my house with the unwavering sense of eyes digging into me.
My voice notes app is now more used than it ever has been. I have a new recording for every day, dated with notes on each experience. I listen back and hear nothing. Some times I listen back I feel like I can hear the laughter again. I think this is my mind playing tricks on me.
I find myself leaving things early now. After work drinks are mere countdowns until I hear that laugh at 8pm. Nights out with a date are cut short so I can get home for 8pm. I even left my mother early at her Mother’s Day dinner so I could get home for 8pm.
One night the laughter was different. It didn’t sound like that manic and childish laughter that usually greets me. It was sad. Mournful. I felt almost guilty for listening.
The following night they stopped laughing. The usual twelve minutes was cut short - but only momentarily. It was instant, as if a recording put on pause for ten seconds. And then it resumed, right back from where it stopped.
I find myself laughing along now. Not aloud, but in my head. I’ve moved a chair to the closest wall to his house and sit there, following that sweet rhythm in my head. I looked into the mirror and saw myself smiling a few minutes before 8. It scared me.
Last night it began as usual. The same pattern that I now long for. At 8:08:41 it changed. It sounded hungry. For the remaining three minutes it was a raw and visceral outpouring of emotion. Then it stopped on the twelfth minute of the hour.
Tonight was different. Like clockwork, the sweet melody began at 8. The low chuckle at the beginning, slowly evolving to become louder. But this time I laughed too. Not in my head - out loud. It was only a huff, almost involuntary.
Silence.
The neighbour stopped. Immediately. Mid-chuckle. I looked at the time. It was 8:06. I waited.
Nothing.
8:08.
Nothing.
8:10.
A knock. Not loud, but 12 slow taps. It seemed to come from every direction.
I didn’t move. I didn’t breathe.
8:11.
Nothing
8:12.
I laughed.
It was a low chuckle which built into a howl, and then something more wet and rhythmic.
At 8:24, I stopped.