The Apartment Above:

I had lived in my rental for nearly three years in advance than I found something uncommon. It have turn out to be a modest area— rooms, a small kitchen, and a balcony that neglected the street. The building itself become vintage, the sort of structure that creaked on the identical time because the wind blew too hard, however it had person. My buddies were quiet. For a long time, it felt like domestic.

Then got here the footsteps.

Within the beginning, I idea not anything of them. antique houses carry sound unusually, and that i idea a person had moved into the apartment above mine. the steps had been slow, planned, as if whoever lived there paced the ground at night time time time. once in a while they stopped close to the corner of the ceiling, right away above my bed. specific instances, they wandered in the direction of the kitchen.

however the condominium above have grow to be purported to be empty.

I remembered honestly at the identical time because the very last tenant had left. She come to be an aged girl who had lived there for many years. After she surpassed away, the owner knowledgeable me the unit could probable stay vacant till renovations is probably finished. Months passed, and no individual moved in. the house windows above stayed darkish, the curtains drawn.

but every night time, the footsteps once more.

I tried to rationalize it. probable the proprietor had rented it out without telling me. probably a person changed into squatting there. however once I requested, he shook his head firmly. “no man or woman’s up there,” he stated. “It’s locked. i have the excellent key.”

That solution need to have reassured me. as an possibility, it unsettled me extra. The footsteps grew louder. every so often they were decided by the usage of faint dragging sounds, like furnishings being moved. different instances, I swore I heard a whisper—too smooth to make out phrases, however unmistakably human. I started out out drowsing with the lighting fixtures on, hoping brightness would thrust back some component lingered inside the shadows.

One night time time, interest overcame fear. I climbed the staircase to the rental above. The door have end up locked, truly as the owner had stated. I pressed my ear in opposition to the timber. Silence. No footsteps, no whispers. remarkable the faint hum of the building’s vintage wiring.

however once I again to my very very own condo, the footsteps resumed—without delay overhead, mocking me.

I commenced out keeping a journal, recording the instances I heard them. midnight. a.m. 4 a.m. usually at night time, in no manner at some point of the day. The pattern changed into too specific to be random. Sleep have end up impossible. My paintings suffered. friends observed the darkish circles beneath my eyes, the way I jumped at unexpected noises. i completed inviting all people over. How might also additionally want to I provide an reason for that my ceiling had emerge as a degree for invisible actors?

One night time, desperate for answers, I satisfied the owner to permit me into the apartment above. He hesitated, muttering about protection and jail obligation, but in the end agreed. collectively, we unlocked the door and stepped interior.

The air come to be stale, heavy with dirt. The rooms had been bare, stripped of fixtures. The floorboards creaked beneath our weight, but in any other case the place become silent. No footprints inside the dust, no symptoms of life.

I favored to simply accept as actual with that my imagination had betrayed me. That the footsteps had been now not something extra than echoes from the road, distorted by way of using manner of the building’s age. but as we have emerge as to go away, I decided some factor.

within the corner of the bedroom, etched faintly into the wood floor, have been marks. no longer scratches from fixtures, however grooves—deep, deliberate traces forming a circle. in the circle, symbols I didn’t apprehend twisted together like vines.

The owner paled while he observed them. “I don’t understand what this is,” he whispered. His voice trembled. “however it wasn’t right here in advance than.”

We locked the door and left rapid.That night time, the footsteps once more. Louder than ever. I lay extensive wakeful, gazing the ceiling, listening as they paced above me. My magazine lay open beside me, but I didn’t trouble writing. What modified into the thing? The footsteps weren’t random. They had been ritual. and then, for the number one time, they stopped straight away above my mattress. Silence hung heavy in the air. I held my breath, ready.

A unmarried knock echoed from the ceiling.

no longer a creak. no longer a trick of sound. A knock.

I haven’t slept while you undergo in thoughts that.