I am thinking about moving out and living alone. I have a good job. I’m saving money for hard times. There is something big that keeps bothering me. Contact with people is not to my liking. I need a break from people because they keep talking about trivial things. It’s driving me crazy.
I will rent an apartment. I regularly search the Internet and look at apartments. What I need is a separate apartment, just for me. In no case am I interested in just renting one room and living with several people in an apartment. No. I need and want to have an apartment just for myself. Silence, peace, and solitude are my priorities.
Today I was intrigued by an advertisement offering to rent a one-bedroom apartment in an older building on the 5th floor. The rent price is favorable. That would fit in my budget. But how is it possible that it is so cheap and still available? Other times, when I respond to a similar ad, I don’t even have the opportunity to go for a view. I am far from the only person with a similar intention. I am sending a text message to the number from the ad.
Me: “Good day. Is your apartment rental offer still valid? I am seriously interested. Thank you. Have a nice day.”
Owner: “Hello, yes. Can you come for the viewing today?”
Me (This is my life chance.): “Sure. What time can I arrive? Thank you very much.”
Owner: “09:00 p.m.”
I don’t know how to respond to this message. Viewing of apartments takes place during the day. Why should I come at 09:00 p.m.? Perhaps this is because the owner works until late in the evening. But why couldn’t he in the morning? I think I’m getting paranoid. I’m not going to be dramatic. I will go over there and see what awaits me. I confess that this time suits me because I am not into mornings and getting up early. I prefer a night when there is nothing to see. At least I can’t see my demons. One of the advantages of the night is fewer people on the streets. I can go for a night walk and not be disgusted by the people, even if I only catch a glimpse of them. In the end, I only reply to the SMS with “Sure.”.
I check google maps to know where to go. The apartment building looks so creepy and abandoned. For someone else, the vast majority of people, it would be unappealing. That’s what I’m looking for me. It may mean that there are not that many people moving around. The facade of the building looks as if it has never been in reconstruction. The building itself may be several decades old. I don’t dare to estimate the age because I don’t care. Simply put, it’s an old building.
I’m already here. I’m standing in front of the apartment building, looking around the quiet place. It’s 8:55 p.m., it’s gloomy outside, and it’s dark inside the apartment building. Neither apartment has lights on. It looks deserted. Could there be a power outage?
Arriving at the bell, I notice that there are no names. The apartments are marked only numerically. Um, I don’t even know the owner’s name. Is it a woman or a man? I guess it doesn’t matter. On the front door, which is wooden and very old, there’s a yellow sticky note that says, “Apartment 666, floor 6.” Hahaha, very funny. Is that a message for me? There are no 3-digit apartment numbers on the doorbell.
I push the door. It opens with an unpleasant squeaking sound reminiscent of fingernails scratching a school blackboard. It’s not locked. It’s dark in the entrance hall. I guess the light doesn’t work. I turn on the flashlight on my cell phone. There are cobwebs all around and a lot of dust. I spotted the elevator. In no case, I’m not taking it. I don’t feel good about it. It probably won’t work since the light doesn’t work either.
I take the stairs, floor by floor. I try to walk as quietly as possible, but I can hear my breathing loudly and the terrifying beating of my heart. I’m scared, but that’s probably from the unknown situation that’s going on. Goosebumps and a chill running down my back are my companions on this journey to a better life. I hope for a better one.
I’m on the 6th floor. What’s next? Apartment 61, 62, 63, 64, and 666, where do I find it? Is this some joke? Some kids must be joking, or do drug addicts have a place here? Apartment 65. Apartment 666. Oh, so somebody added another 6 to apartment 66 with a marker. Well, I would have thought it would be something like that.
Should I open the door and come inside? No, I’m freaking out. I knock. The door opens. I can’t see anything in, no one answers, and the light’s off. The light on my cell phone has gone out, and I’m afraid to turn it back on. I feel a weight on my back. It’s hard to breathe as if something has taken my breath away. Head. I can feel something in my head. It’s not the pain, but more like pressure. I can’t describe it.
I take a step forward against my will. Then another and another. Why am I advancing? I don’t want to go! What is happening to me? I’m gripping my cell phone so tightly that I think I break the links of my fingers. Suddenly a message arrives, and I turn my gaze to the screen of my mobile phone with the last of my strength.
Owner: “Are you already here? There’s a power outage in the apartment building, I’m waiting on the 5th floor, but I can run to the front of the apartment building for you.”
The door behind me slams with a loud screech. It resembles a tearful wail. It shatters my eardrums, and that’s when it hits me. That message on the apartment building’s front door wasn’t for me.
Also, the ad mentioned the 5th floor, not the 6th. The chill is digging into my bones. I feel sick. I’m sweating, I’m scared, I’m shivering. If this is going to be the end of myself, I hope it will be quick and not permanent. I don’t want anything to take my soul.
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You’ve just finished reading the first part of my horror story. It’s my first horror story.
Stories I publish may have grammatical errors, for which I apologize. English is not my native language, but I studied it for years.
For feedback on the story content, as well as any errors, I thank you in advance. Do you want a sequel to the story?
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