TITLE: I’m convinced the flat I’m renting is haunted. There’s something wrong with the fifth floor.
It was exactly 1 week ago when my girlfriend Amanda and I decided to buy a new house to commemorate our fifth anniversary. We’re in our late twenties, so our low-income job, especially during times of inflation, is barely adequate to support us comfortably.
Amanda and I are very open to one another: I know quite a bit about her and her family. As I was searching, I remembered this particular flat she had mentioned to me. It was owned by her grandfather, who had owned it for about 20 years before he unfortunately, passed away in his sleep. Our anniversary was in a few days, so I suggested the flat that her grandfather used to own. She agreed but didn’t seem happy about her decision.
Although I found it peculiar, I was too exhausted to question it. We moved into the flat the following day. Amanda didn’t seem too happy, so I decided to do the speaking. Mary - the receptionist booked us in: Floor 5, room 1.
“Shit.” Amanda whispered terrifyingly under her breath.
“Anything wrong? I could always find a new room for you.” Mary said in a calm, yet unusual voice.
“No, we’re fine.” I interrupted. Grabbing Amanda’s hand and bringing her toward the elevator. When we got in, the first thing that caught my eye was the eerie, old style of the elevator. I chose not to say anything - causing silence that overwhelmed the small space around us, I could tell something was wrong with the love of my life, but I couldn’t figure out what it was.
The doors of the elevator slid open slowly, and relatively loudly as it revealing a blank, 1960s-looking hallway. Directly in front, RO M 1, with the letter ‘O’ missing from the front. Amanda looked like she was about to puke, but so was I.
“Are you sure you’d like to enter, babe?” Amanda had managed to mumble with a big gulp.
“Listen, I know it may seem frightening but-“ Amanda had opened the door and pushed me into the room, she followed me behind. The instant we both entered the room, the door slammed shut directly behind us, the wind blowing a hot pink post from the ceiling, onto the floor.
I grabbed it hesitantly, it had some writing. ‘Rest In Peace Robert W Brown. 1941 - 2020.’ The realization hit me faster than the speed of light. Robert W Brown was the name of Amanda’s grandfather. I had never read something so many times.
I turned around to hush Amanda, I noticed she was already crying. For that next hour, I tried everything I could to comfort her, but nothing worked.
“Look at what you’ve done, Peter! This is where we’re going to spend the rest of our lives, and fucking die in here!” I was lost for words, before I could process anything, she blurted “In the last 50 years, anyone who has ever lived in this room has died. The cause is always unknown but the flat had always claimed it was a death in the sleep or a suicide.”
“Honey, why didn’t you tell me this before” is all I managed to say before breaking down.
“Because I thought there was a way out of it! But now that my grandfather has died here, there isn’t. I don’t know when, or how, but the fifth floor has been like this since this place faced an armed robbery, a shooting, and a fire in the same week. Every floor has its trait, but this one is slightly more special” Amanda said confidently, this time I was convinced she was telling the truth. “Well, maybe we could explore the flat for other abnormalities, or ask to move to another floor.” I gestured toward the decrepit, wooden door.
Amanda nodded in agreement, with a slight worry on her face as we approached the door. Just as I had touched the handle, a phone call had come through the broken-wired phone, with the same ringtone as those creepy ice cream trucks in horror movies. To my shock, I froze when Amanda stormed towards the phone. Without thinking twice, she picked it up.
The phone started with a quiet static, then a buzz, then a thump, then what I thought was a whisper of a dying man. I couldn’t have been more wrong. “Harold speaking” I almost fell to the floor but managed to keep a hold of my balance.
“Hey Harold, surname please?” Amanda looked at me, we both knew exactly what was happening, we hoped for an answer, but at the same time, we didn’t. The immense focus was placed on the sound of the quiet phone.
“Miss, if you must know, my last name is J. Stone,” he said in an evil tone.
Amanda immediately hung up the phone, I could no longer keep my composure and I assumed I’d passed out. The last thing I heard was the kind receptionist, this time with a horrifying type of voice.
When I awoke, I was led on the hard, uncomfortable double bed, with Amanda next to me sleeping soundly. I remembered last night vividly and it is still freaking me out. As I went to lift the flower-decorated covers and make myself a coffee from the barely working coffee machine, I noticed my hand was bloody. Perhaps it was from the fall, so I didn’t think much of it. Until I saw Amanda’s face, she had an eye missing, and blood smeared over her cheeks.
I burst out crying, inspecting her head. As I went to check the rest of her body, I noticed, it wasn’t there. Just her head, and her soft, silky hair. My vision went blurry, as tears took over my eyes. I had managed to remember the name of Harold J Stone, the name rang a bell, but I’d decided to make more. I searched his name. 1 result ‘Harold J Stone shockingly escapes police after burning down and robbing a flat. It’s unknown whether he’s alive or not, but consequences can be dire, and life-threatening.
I still felt frightened about Amanda’s head getting sliced directly off her body, but 5 years was too much to think she was gone. Harold has her and I will make sure of it.
I got a knock on the door. So much was going on, and now, this? The banging got progressively louder. I had no choice but to open the door. It was a man, wearing a mask.
“I’m Dave, floor 4, my room was just burnt down. I hate to say this, but I saw you and your girlfriend at reception yesterday. Harold is using your girlfriend’s body to light it.” He said giving me a slight hug.
It was that moment smoke arose from the floor, I hate to say this, but dave was right. The smell of the smoke smelt of dead corpse, my girlfriend was gone, but it was something I found so difficult to accept. I sprinted to the elevator ready to go to the forth floor.
When both my legs reached the center of the elevator, the doors slammed shut, at one of the highest sound rates I’ve heard before. At this point I didn’t care. I only wanted Amanda back.
I scanned the buttons for the 4th floor ‘1, 2, 3, 5, 6, 7.’ It wasn’t there. Just a gap from where button 4 was placed.
I have lost hope and I’m still stuck in the elevator right now. I need advice or I’m going to die in here, tonight.