My New Apartment
“My New Apartment”
My name is Nicholas Abernathy, my friends call me, Nick. I am 32 years old, with a very very very sound mind. I AM NOT CRAZY!!!, although crazy people don’t know they’re crazy, I am 99% sure I am not.
About a year ago, I lived at 253 Dead Man’s Lane in a small town in Delaware. I can’t remember the name. But that is where this story took place. There’s a reason they call it Dead Man’s Lane, I know that now. I don’t live there anymore. I now reside at an undisclosed location due to the events that occurred at my previous residence. I don’t want them to know where I am. I hope you understand.
The town was a very small town, a one stoplight town, a town so small that if you blink while driving through, you’ll miss the whole entire town, which was perfect for me. It was a welcomed escape from the hustle and bustle of city life, which was slowly draining me to point of exhaustion So when my boss, at the time, came to me and said that our company was downsizing and that I would be let go, I gladly took the severance package and moved on with my life.
I grew up in a small town, so I was familiar with the quiet and simplicity that it offered and I longed to go back there again. So, while sitting in my big city apartment, I grabbed my laptop and started to search, small town living, houses for sale, and things of that sort. I came upon an old Victorian house built in 1859. It was beautiful. Dark blue with dark gray trim, Two floors, Balcony, front porch and a very small room at the top of the house with an octagon shaped window in it. For some unknown reason I’ve always wanted to live in an such a house, so this was like a dream come true. The price wasn’t bad, actually was pretty good, low some might say. So I called the number displayed in the ad and made arrangements with the older gentleman on the other end to come view the house three days later.
Upon arriving at the house, it looked just like the picture in the ad. Except there was one small detail the ad did not say. The house was in the middle of a giant dirt field all by itself. No trees or shrubbery around, just a dirt field. That time of year, some farmer should have had corn or something growing in a field that big, but there was nothing. This struck me as kind of odd. The only thing besides the house in the field was one electric pole with wires running from it to the house and a transformer on top.
The driveway was at least a quarter mile long with other little road branching off of it going to certain parts of the field Then connecting back to the main driveway. One road wrapped around the whole entire house. It seem like forever to get there. Once there, I met an old man, who said his name was Bernie or Benny or something with the B. I can’t really remember. He said he was the owner of the house and that I could feel free to look around if I wanted. I asked if he was coming in, his face turned pale, as he said, “No, I’ll stay right here, thank you”.
Looking back now that should have been a red flag. An owner that would go into his own house. Red Flag Alert!!!! But I was naive, blow it off, and entered the house alone. I expected it to be a little run down and dirty, given the dirt field that surrounded it, but to my surprise, it was immaculately clean. Completely furnished and looking like something straight out of a magazine. I went through each room in total awe of its beauty. Each room except the little room with octagon window. I couldn’t find a door or staircase leading to it. This, too, I found a little odd. And the basement. I’ve never been a big fan of basements so I figured I’ll go check it out at some point. What’s the big deal, it’s a basement.
I met up with the old man outside and we discussed and agreed on a price, he informed me that everything in the house was included in the deal under one condition. No furniture could be removed from the home or moved to any other part of the home. Everything must stay exactly where it is. You may use any of the appliances, books, And things of that sort. But they must be returned exactly where they are now. You may add to it but nothing can be removed. Given that all the furniture and such was from the Victorian era, I thought why get rid of it and agreed to this condition. An Agreement I would later regret
I’m going to skip the part about going to the bank and financing and all that crap. No one really cares about that anyway.
Moving in day was exciting for me me, I finally got the house of my dreams, I just started a new job, I’m back to the quiet life. I left all my furniture and stuff at my old apartment, only packing my clothes and toiletries. I figured maybe the next guy or girl could use some of it. Anyway, I met the old man at the house. I’m just going to call him Mr. B., since I can’t seem to remember the man’s name.
I later found out that Mr. B. lived just two blocks away with his wife of 43 years, Isabella. I never got the chance to meet Isabella, although I wish I had. He was old steel mill worker. You could tell from his physique. He may of been old, but the man had muscle. He had bought the house some 30 years back With the same conditions that he had told me. He never lived in the place. Said it troubled his wife immensely from the first day she saw it. He tried to sell it many times before. But the deals always fell through for some reason. Until then.
Mr. B. handed me the keys, and as he did he grabbed hold of my hand hard and pulled me to him and whispered something in my right ear. He whispered “beware of the rain” There’s a reason he said that to me, I know that now. He then hung his head and slowly walked away. How he knew, I don’t know, but he did.
My first couple weeks in my new house were rather uneventful. The weather was nice with a slight breeze. Even opened a couple window upstairs to get some air flow in there. I had asked the Mr. B. about opening the windows. He said that was fine since they were part of the house not possessions within the house. So I left them open for a few days.
On my first night, Since the place was fully furnished, I hung up my clothes which took all of 20 mins. I put my shampoos and such in the master bathroom which was almost as big as my bedroom. Then went to the local grocery store for some food and drinks. I can’t remember the name, it’s not really important. I spent rest of the time checking out each room one by one and seeing everything the house had to offer. About a week or so later, I finally found that door that led to that little room with the octagon window. It was a secret door panel hidden in the closet of the room that I decided to make my bedroom.
For some unknown strange reason something told me to push on the back of the closet, I did, The door swung open revealing a spiral black metal staircase that led to said room. It was a very small room about the size of a walk-in closet by today’s standards. In said room was a very old desk positioned just under the octagon window and a standup lamp to its left. Old wood planks for walls as well as the ceiling. The floor was what looked to be brand new hardwood. So I decided to make it my office, the place I would do my writing. Since I had a great view of the dirt field out the window. what better place to draw inspiration from. That’s a joke by the way
The rest of the house consisted of five bedrooms, a huge kitchen, a parlor, a living area, three full bathrooms, a study and a basement. Oh, that basement. I decided to check it out one night, I was bored and needed something to do. That was a bad idea. The basement was kind of creepy, I’m lying, it was real creepy. The door to the basement had little holes all along the edges, top, bottom and right side of the door like someone had nailed it shut at one point. The stairs leading down to the basement were old and rickety and would probably fall apart at any given moment. Unlike the rest of the house, that was immaculately clean, like I noted in previous passages. The basement, however, was not. There was dust and dirt and cobwebs everywhere. It had a strange odor. I didn’t know what it was at the time, but I know now.
Along the far wall, there was a series of five file cabinets covered in dust, over to the right, it looked like two metal surgical tables covered with white sheets, in the middle of these tables, there was a small stand with a large glass container with tubes running out of it and some kind a pump machine behind it. All kinds of knives, gloves and masks scattered all over the floor. It look like no one had been down here for ages. I ran up the stairs as quickly as I could, shut the basement door And never went down there again. What was that place?
About a month or so went by. All this time, I couldn’t get what Mr. B. Whispered to me on the day I moved in out of my head. So every morning while drinking my coffee, i really miss coffee. Anyway, I would check the weather app on my phone to see the conditions for the day. On that day, it was gonna be partly cloudy with a 60% chance of rain. Ok, maybe now we’ll see what there is to be afraid of. Just like the app said, it started to rain about 4pm. It didn’t last long. But that’s how it all started.
I was in my office, the rain started to fall. Almost as soon as it did I started to Hear music, not today’s music but orchestra music, big band music. I didn’t have a radio up there, I’m in the middle of a field, so it couldn’t be a car. I started to get concerned. Where was it coming from? I walked down the spiral staircase to my room still hearing it play. I walked into the hallway and to room across from mine. As soon as I put my hand b the doorknob, it stopped. And the rain did too.
That was weird, I thought. Must have been my imagination, the rain hitting the gutters somehow making the acoustic sounds of music in the house. Something.
There had to be a reason. After a while, I stopped thinking about it and went on with my night. A few days later I ran into Mr. B. at the hardware store. I told him about what happened, he didn’t seem surprised, he just said, “I tried to tell you” and left.
The day that changed my life forever happened about two weeks later. I was at work. I had taken an assistant manager position at a local department store. The pay wasn’t as good as my previous job, but it wasn’t as stressful either. During my shift this guy came up to me out of nowhere and asked, “You own the old Bennett place out on Dead Mans Lane, Don’t you?” I was reluctant to answer, but I finally said, “Yes, yes I do”.
He was a big guy, biker type, 50ish with long gray hair and tats. He said, “You’re braver than I am, I wouldn’t go near that place. Hope you found Jesus, you’re gonna need Him.” The ride home that day was unsettling. Everything that had happened was starting to get to me. I was nervous. Nervous to go home. After what this guy said, what Mr. B. said, and the music thing, that weird basement. I was on edge. On edge so much, that when I walked through the door, instead of placing my keys on the shelf by the door, I tossed my keys hitting a small ceramic ballerina Knick knack off the shelf and breaking it. Oh, shit!! I said loudly. Something has not only been moved, but broken. There was no way to put it back. Then I heard it.
A slow growling sound like a wild animal coming from the basement door then from the kitchen then from upstairs then from everywhere. I couldn’t take it anymore. I grabbed my head and fell to my knees, falling over into the fetal position. I started screaming, “Stop!!! Stop!!! I’m sorry. Please Stop!!!” It didn’t stop. It got louder and louder. From the floor I could see the basement door open quickly then slam shut. All the door we’re doing it now. Except the front door that remained closed for some reason.
I felt a very cold breeze go right through my body. Every light in the house was turning on and off, on and off. I managed to get to my feet. Running down the hallway toward the kitchen. The main floor bathroom door flung open, hitting me hard and knocking me backwards down the hallway. I lost my footing and fell to the floor. I must have hit my head cause the next thing I remember was waking up on the floor hearing the sound of my doorbell Buzzing over and over again.All was silent and calm except for the buzzing. The buzzing soon turned to loud pounding upon the front door. I pulled myself together, standing to answer the door when I heard, “Nick, Nick, I know you’re in there, Nicholas!!!!, answer the damn door.“
I opened the door quickly only to see Mr. B standing there, shaking, sweating, not nearly the composed man I knew. “There’s a really bad storm coming, we got to get out of here. I can’t with all good conscience let you stay here alone, we got to go now!!
The storm clouds moved in fast. At a speed I never seen before. Thunder started to roar. I tried to explain to Mr. B. that I have broken a knickknack. In his panic state he said that’s the least of your worries, let’s go. The rain started falling hard. Lightning was crashing as the thunder roared on. That music started playing again only this time Mr. B heard it as well. Then what happens next seem like something out of a bad horror movie.
The house seems to suck Mr. B. into it. Nearly knocking me down in the process, and sliding him fast across the floor and slamming him into a table that laid against the adjacent wall, Breaking the leg of the table and forcing it to crashed to the floor. Another thing broken. The front door slammed with a Force so hard that it broke the front two windows completely out. Allowing the rain to pour into the house. I quickly ran over to make sure Mr. B was OK. “Son of a bitch, it’s too late. We’re never getting out of here now.“, Mr. B said angrily.
The growling started again only this time it seemed it was right in front of us. I felt a real bad burning on my left arm, lifting my sleeve to see what it was. I saw three scratch marks with blood dripping from the third. Mr. B. Grab hold of his neck, after lifting his hand, I Noticed the same three scratches,Only this time all of them were bleeding. Bleeding bad. The house is coming alive. He screamed. Upstairs, we must get upstairs. A lightning bolt hit the electric pole outside causing the house to go black. Now in total darkness, hearing that music hearing that growling. And both of us bleeding.I quickly pulled out my phone to turn on the light so we could at least see by that. Mr. B’s phone was broke in the crash.
I turned on my light. Only to notice the cellar door slowly opening by itself the growling getting louder and what appeared to be a black mass of goo pouring from the basement door and heading in our direction fast. I screamed look out and grabbed Mr. B. By the arm and pulled him out of the way barely escaping the goo. We ran frantically up the stairs. What should have been 20 to 25 steps seemed mores like 30 or 40. This house is alive, Mr. B. Yelled. Finally reaching to top. I shined the light down the hallway of doors that was the second floor. The hallway seem to be longer than I remembered with extra doors that I never had before. The walls were expanding and contracting, like the house was breathing. There was a red substance, resembling blood, it could have been for all I know, oozing from the ceiling down the walls.
My bedroom was at the end of the hallway.Mr. B and I made a run for the last door on the left. My bedroom. We ran and ran And just as the red goo was about to hit the floor I arrived at my bedroom door grabbing the knob and opening it quickly looking back hoping to see Mr. B. right behind me. But unfortunately hw was not. Shining my light down the hallway, I could see that He was about a quarter of the way from the door running as fast as he Could, but getting nowhere. It was like he was running on the treadmill. The red substance oozed down on to the floor and quickly made a beeline straight for Mr. B. I screamed, give me your hand. I stretched my hand out as far as I could. Mr. B. extended his. But it was too late.
The red substance reached his shoe. Mr. B. Screamed in agony as the substance began to burn him. The smell of burning flesh filled the hallway. As more of the substance reached him, Mr. B. ignited into flames. I can still hear his screams in my head. I only lasted a few seconds and then it was gone and so was my friend. Mr. B. was gone.
I quickly ran into my room. From out of my bedroom window I could see what appeared to be flames. When the lightning hit the pole, it must have caused the transformer To catch fire, igniting the house as well. The outside of the house was burning but not the inside, and the rain wasn’t stopping it. What the hell is this place. Shining my light back into the room, I could see shadows in the shape of people appearing in the walls. Some short, some tall. Then the voices started:
Women: I’m so cold!!!! Little girl: Mommy!!!! Old man: Help—Me!!!
I quickly ran up to my office, the only place left to go. From out of the window I could see the rain pouring down , lightning bolts lighting up the skies. The voices continued. Down below, I could see that the rain had fallen so hard and fast that it washed away all the dirt from the field exposing skeletal remains all around the house. Then it hit me.
Oh my God!!!, This was not a house, it was a old funeral home build on cemetery grounds. They must have removed the headstones and left the bodies. That would explain everything. In shock, I stepped backwards, my back hitting the wall and sliding down into a sitting position. My phone had fallen to the floor. The light just so happened to be shining on the doorway to the room. I mumbled to myself, I didn’t know, I didn’t know. Out of the corner of my eye I could see a black mass in the shape of a person crawling through the doorway and over to me. Shrieking a horrible sound, It reaching it hand like thong out as if to choke me. Totally exhausted I put my hands over my eyes and screamed as the shadow engulfed the room.
Somebody, somewhere must have seen the flames and call the fire department. From speaking with my landlord and police officals, I gathered that when they found me I was in the basement laying in one of the tables mumbling to myself. I don’t recall any of that. Mr. B’s body was never recovered. From what I’ve heard, the house is still standing. Only minor fire damage. I don’t see how that’s possible, but knowing what I know now about that place. I kinda believe it. I had told this story to the police, and some guy dressed like Judge Judy and they all looked at me like I was crazy. I AM NOT CRAZY!!!
I like my new apartment. It’s kind of small, like a studio apartment. I got a bed and a dresser, a nightstand and a lamp. Best of all, the rent is free. I don’t have to work anymore!! My neighbors are nice, a little quirky if you ask me, but nice none the less. Theres a tv that we share in the living room, a game room where we gather and play cards and ping pong and games of that sort. I have my own bathroom, which is nice. Food is included, it’s mostly just mush, but it’s still food.
Security here is tight, there are cameras everywhere and there ARE rules. If you break those rules, the landlord will move you to a much smaller apartment with no windows, but gives you this very cool jacket to wear that lets you hug yourself. I like that jacket. There are a bunch of nice ladies that come by everyday giving us little white pieces of candy. Sometimes they’re different colors, but mostly white. Sometimes they even come at night.
Oh, I gotta go now. It’s bedtime. I’m excited. Tomorrow we go outside. Goodnight!!!
Submitted May 24, 2019 at 07:23AM by MPZ1968