242 rooms

The Last Room On The Left

  The building was shabby, the lights flickered occasionally and a sound of a dripping faucet could be heard from somewhere. "This will be your apartment, room 242. The view from here is good, it should help you focus on...what did you say you do again?" I snapped out of my trance, too drawn into the buzzing lights. "Ah, I'm a reporter." The landlord handed me the keys, and I thought I caught a glimpse of some off grin as he walked away. I ignored it and opened the door. As stated, the room was furnished. Minimalistic but still decent. The big cabinet you saw as soon as you walked in was old, definitely. The style like something from a different Era. The colors of the furniture were a honeybee yellow.
  "So this is where I'll be staying for the next 2 months." The day passed and I cleaned up and unboxed things. Finally it was night and I was left working on my next article. I tapped angrily at the keyboard. So much potential, so much could be said, yet my mind went blank. Then, out of nowhere, I heard something. "Great. A leaking faucet. Just my luck. Give me the oldest apartment just to be a bastard." I stomp in the direction of the sound. My hand about to turn the knob to the bathroom...it stops. It's coming from somewhere else now. I go to the kitchen this time. It isn't the dripping water, but instead the garbage disposal. It sounds as if something metal is clanking around in it.
  I look down into the sink, turn off the disposal...a pretty pendant necklace is inside. I manage to fish it out with a fork, wasting more time than necessary. "Why is everything here so old?" Theirs laughter, a little girl's laugh and multiple sounds of footfalls above me. I feel as if the room is spinning, everything goes black.