This story wasn’t my idea. I saw it on a Russian site and simply re-wrote it in English because I used to like it a lot as kid :)
The Bathroom Windows
I live in a dated 3-room apartment on the outskirts of Moscow. Renovations haven’t occurred here in at least 40 years. The wallpaper is peeling, and plaster crumbles from every wall. The overall ancient idiotism of that apartment’s planning, however, is often more irritating than its decaying state. That is partly the reason as to why this story happened. I used to frequently skip my university lectures, wasting my life instead on reading online forums and playing video games. Sometimes, these dopamine-frying day sessions lasted long into the night. That day my mother, as usual, got up early to go into work. I woke up at 12 in the afternoon, turned on my computer, made coffee, and immediately noticed an absence of the internet from unpaid bills. Despite the need for this essential element of life, I was too lazy to leave the apartment and fill out the overdue payment, instead choosing to sift through the cluttered folders of downloaded shows on my desktop and watch random episodes. After several hours, I accepted the fact that leaving the apartment was inevitable, seeing as I found nothing remotely edible in my fridge. I figured that, along with buying food, I could as well pay for the internet while I’m out. But before leaving, I decided to take a bath. It should be noted that I take baths infrequently mainly due to the bathtub’s minuscule size, aged condition, and the resulting lack of hygiene when choosing it over a much preferred shower. But for whatever reason, some devil made me change my habits for that day.
The bathroom itself has two small windows. One leads into the kitchen, and allows for an unprivate and direct view across to the tub and the person sitting or standing in it. The other is situated next to it on the same level, and leads into the toilet room. The window next to the kitchen, by the way, is shattered from an uncoordinated attempt at killing a mosquito. That day I scattered glass shards all over the floor and flooded the tub with blood from my injured hand. I could barely wipe the stains away after the accident. The reason why these windows exist will never be known to me, and I will forever sincerely hate the person who has designed and built them.
After filling the bathtub and waiting for the water to cool, I climbed inside. I for some reason immediately felt uncomfortable. No, not from the feeling or sound of someone else’s presence. I just suddenly found myself feeling cold inside apparently warm water. After spending some time sitting crouched inside the tub, I began to noticeably shiver, my skin becoming fully covered in goosebumps. I then accidentally lifted my head up toward the broken window that leads into the toilet. What I saw there immediately burned itself into my mind, letting me know right then that I will never forget its sight.
I saw a face. Pale, deformed, wide and hideous with an extremely large scarlet mouth, along with bottomless, empty black eyes. It seemed simultaneously artificial and real, as if somebody had set the goal to create the ugliest face known to man, and in his mastery reached an evil amount of depth. This kind of mug cannot be imagined in any nightmare. It cannot be adequately and fully described - it can only be seen, which is something I won’t wish upon my most vile enemy. I couldn’t discern any other traits of the thing, with the exception of wet black hair lining the top of its head, more reminiscent of a wig. I didn’t even understand what I was more petrified by, the face, or what my imagination was adding to it behind 2 metres of thin wall. My own wet hair became erect, and I tried my best to fit myself into the furthest corner of the bathroom, away from it. I wanted to not so much scream, but thinly squeal to at least somewhat ease my fear. But I grit my teeth in a way that almost misaligned my jaw. Never before have I experienced such a gnawing, supernatural terror as I had that day. The face seemed to stare somewhat past me, as if captured by something it saw in the opposite corner of the room.
I couldn’t tell how much time was passing. Maybe seconds, maybe even minutes. But at one point, it felt amused by my look, and shifted its black gaze toward me. After 3 or 4 worst seconds of my life, I finally managed to scream. The long awaited sound inside my throat released more as a weak barking, rather than a scream. But I think if I didn’t let it out then, I would have died staring into those empty, bottomless black eyes.
And it went away. It just slid down the wall below the window, as if it were a cheap decoration who’s time on stage was over. In that moment I could not believe my luck. My body was being shaken by an automatic and nervous quiver while I continued to sit inside the tub, the water of which I had spilled all over the dirty tiled floor. I then slowly stood up, and looked into the window that led into the kitchen. Almost like in a bad thriller, or in a shitty horror movie, I saw that it was there. Still corpse-pale, covered in sunken skin and staring back at me with a gross exaggeration of a smile. Right behind the thin glass of the window - it had simply shifted from the toilet to the kitchen.
My legs gave way, and I lost balance. I tumbled out of the tub and hit my head on the opposite wall, losing sight of the face. For some time, I may have been unconscious. When I opened my eyes, only the ceiling could be seen from the kitchen window. Stricken again by terror, I ran out of the bathroom and ended up in my room. After nervously looking around and pulling on the first shirt and pants I could find, grabbing my shoes I bolted out of the apartment. The shoes were on my feet probably by the time I reached the first storey. Leaving the building, I ran out into the diminishing spring afternoon. It turned out that I had spent 3 hours in the bathroom.
Only when I was running out, clutching my shoes, did I notice that the door to my apartment stood affably ajar all day.