I used to live in a considerably tall, modern apartment building. One night I woke up from drilling upstairs as if someone was trying to drill a hole in my ceiling followed by a sound that I would describe as someone violently mopping the floor. It was 1:31 on the 6th of June when I woke up from the commotion above for the first time. Who would be renovating their apartment at this hour? Under my breath, I cursed at the neighbours as I knew that I would be unable to get any sleep for the rest of that night. You see I have this thing that as soon as I’m awaken, I cannot close an eye again for the entire night.
The next night, the events repeated. Identically faint drilling sound that progressively grew louder about a meter away from the chandelier that hung in the dead centre of the living room. Through my quickly slipping dreamy haze I remember thinking how unusual it was that no one called authorities yet as I was sure that the sound resonated to many floors above and below mine. At the moment it seemed that no living soul would be able to sleep through the entire night.
Look, I know that many stories here on Reddit describe the issue of hearing a questionable sound while living on the top floor or in an old building with some sort of an attic. Honestly, it makes sense that one may theorise something sinister happening, because there is simply no way that the voices or scratching they hear can be made by their neighbours (as there aren’t any). I do not live anywhere near the top floor, in fact I live on the lower half of the skyscraper building. 10th floor to be exact. When the property has 44. In my situation the most obvious cause would be my neighbours, herby the next day I set out to find my torturer. Unfortunately though, upon knocking on the door of apartment 119 on the 11th floor I found that my dear neighbours were absent. From then, I naturally descended down to the front desk to voice my complain and threaten of further actions if nothing is done. Administration assured me that they would contact the occupants above.
After a week of being chronically tired and sick of the noise it was clear that nothing was done. Irritated, I made my way up to the eleventh floor once again only to find a friendly family with a dog, though from experience I knew that looks can be deceiving. They were polite despite me being extremely rude due to exhaustion and promised they weren’t drilling at the middle of the night especially because they had a newborn. After that conversation I became convinced that I was delusional; even considered visiting a professional. However I came up with a much better idea — to bring a close friend of mine that night and thankfully my sanity was confirmed after he complained of a horrible night. I felt somewhat relieved that I wasn’t going insane, nevertheless I knew that my ordeal wasn’t over.
The next morning, I went to the administration once again, my vision blurry from the lack of proper rest. I took that week off work as I would sleep for the majority of my shift. A neatly dressed girl at the desk looked at me as if I were a madman. I haven’t looked in the mirror lately, but did I really look that dishevelled?! The young woman handed me a pair of earplugs and sent me on my way. That night I made a decision to deal with my problem myself seeing no other option. Finally my body would not feel pins and needles of obscure powerlessness. The brim thought that I could end my suffering took me through hours of taking apart my ceiling. By the way breaking a hole in concrete is much more difficult then advertised by action movies. It is hard labour to make a shallow dent let alone get through a meter of a dense wall. At sunrise I had made a little progress with my project. Layers and layers of paint, plaster and other materials lay in heaps on my expensive wool carpet, but I didn’t care. I suppose I entered some sort of manic mode being able to last that long for a person that pants after a simple 15 minute jog.
There was a hole! I had done it! My fingers pulsed and ached from holding the hammer for so long as I brought my phone to the opening shining it’s flashlight inside. Well it definitely wasn’t any of the apartments above. I found the construction plan of my building online; there indeed was some sort of gap in between the floors described as a vent shaft. It was no wider than the length of an outstretched arm. Typical for a vent I thought. With that information I visited the administration. They finally agreed to investigate saying they’ll send a team on Monday for a possible rodent problem; I tried to explain that the sound I heard did not resemble mice feet or scratching ,but agreed with their story because I was too tired to reason with them and any help seemed good enough.
Victorious, I returned to my apartment where I soon realised that I couldn’t shake off a feeling of unease. As if something or someone was observing me. The feeling even overtook the weariness I was experiencing.
I decided that I would slightly tidy up the room before the cleaning team arrived the next day as I didn’t want to seem both psychotic and messy. The air felt… colder, wetter, filthier? Definitely not the the usual homey smell that greets me everyday when I return from work. I looked up at the hole which in my eyes looked wider. Had I made it actually that wide? I can’t remember. The darkness seeped out in a way that made my hairs stand. I decided to shine a light in there again and I swear I saw a figure twitch inside, but I brushed it off as my mind playing tricks. Although something inside screamed that I had to retreat as far away as I possibly could. I’m glad that for once in my existence I listened to my instincts because as soon as my back pressed into the wall, I saw it. A long testicle like thing lowered down its body, can I even call it a body? Anyhow the things’ slimy limb gleamed in the bright light of my chandelier making it that much more gross. For a moment it hung there moving as though it was sniffing the air. Then the thing started elongating it’s tentacle in my direction. Suddenly I realised that I wasn’t dreaming. It was really happening. I made a run to the front door as the most logical decision locking it behind me. As I was running though I accidentally knocked down a lamp it’s thin glass shattering and igniting a pile of clothes I previously threw down on the floor. Adrenaline clouding my brain I probably wouldn’t have even noticed if I hadn’t stepped on a sharp piece of glass. The fire was spreading with high ferocity engulfing the corridor.
I was outside. The false safety of my thin front door was comforting. For a moment I contemplated whether I was going to call 911. Instead, I activated the fire alarm so that everyone else could escape. Something flopped amongst the door. Horrible screeching sounds followed along with the familiar drilling sounds. Silence. Only the sounds of a crackling fire and distant gurgling noises hung in the air. Thick bubbling, oil like substance oozed from the gap under the door. All those events happened almost simultaneously and in the matter of seconds. I don’t want to imagine what would happen hadn’t I accidentally lit that fire.
Today I read an article about a pyrophoric chemical leak located in that building I lived in. They wrote that the structure had a mice infestation that damaged some pipes of the cooling system. I am writing this because I want people to know the truth. There are monsters out there and we cannot ignore them forever.