I live in a house of rules.
I should explain.
I moved here three months ago. Flat number 27. The flat was a repossession. I never met the previous owner, and to date, know him only from the post I receive in his name. I could make up stories of him vanishing, or his screams being heard in the darkness one night... I could make such exaggerated claims, but this is not a work of fiction, nor is it written to entertain.
I had just got a new job — a promotion I'd waited years for. This was meant to be the next step to greater things, but I needed to move quickly to save on the long drive each day. When I found this place, I was overjoyed. It was well-located, within my price range, and, apart from being extremely run down and dirty, had so much potential. It's a duplex apartment, with a guest room and spare bathroom on the ground floor and a dressing room and several storage rooms on the top floor.
The purchase was a complicated one — due in part to poor recordkeeping and the loss of deeds and plans of the house. What should have taken a month from start to finish took four times as long. Because of this length of time, I took several viewings, and each time, was amazed by windows and cupboards that I could not recall from previous visits. Rooms seemed bigger and lighter — more inviting. Even the estate agent was baffled that her property listing documents were constantly wrong.
The neighbors in the block of flats are a strange lot. They don't talk. They keep to routines you can set a clock by. When I first moved in, I tried to invite them to a housewarming, so desperate was I to meet new people. Not one of them came. They get in at the same time every day and never leave the house. I never hear them moving around at night.
One of them, a nervous man from upstairs who constantly fidgets and glances around, apologized afterward. He explained his lack of attendance was simply because "he wasn't allowed to." At the time, I presumed he meant by his wife, but now I'm not so certain. As he was the only one I had got to know since the move, I did my best to become friendly... and even felt like I was making headway. Then I made the mistake of asking about the previous owner, to which he made an awkward and short response before making his excuses — I have not seen or heard from him since.
"The rules", as I came to understand them, became apparent over time. The first was sleeping only in my bedroom. I slept once in the lounge on purpose, dozing on the sofa, until I woke up to my arm trapped between the sofa and the wall... a wall that was several feet away when I closed my eyes a few hours earlier. I was overcome with a feeling — a very familiar feeling — that I was somewhere I shouldn't be.
This feeling wouldn't leave me until I hurriedly stumbled up to bed, where I only felt truly safe when I hid under the blankets like a scared child. I only fell asleep once more in the lounge after that, by accident. I was woken once again with a feeling that I should leave, that it would be unsafe to stay and that I should not be there. This time, however, a sweater I had left across the room on a radiator was tied around my neck, and pulled tightly enough to leave a striking mark on my throat.
The rule of sleeping only in my bedroom stands alongside others — countless others. I learned that I should clean up my dishes immediately when I stepped out of the kitchen after depositing my plate and sat down on a safety pin that was jutting out of the back of the sofa. I learned not to take showers for too long when the water suddenly turned scaling hot and remained so, no matter how much I desperately tried to turn it off... and then was inexplicably normal temperature when I tried it moments after. I learned that I must hoover and keep the place tidy, that I must not waste electricity, and that no matter what noises I hear at night, I should never EVER explore.
Another rule is that guests are not welcome. The last time I had a guest, it was a friend who invited themself by making arguments to come and see me until I relented (how could I not?), despite my concerns that I could not air down for the weekend. I spent the entire time terrified for their safety and pretty much drove them away with my strange behavior accordingly.
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2015 October Horror Story Anthology
الرعبYet another anthology of the fingerverse! Based from a collection of horror stories I made back in 2015.