Day 333

Some of the town's buildings were façades.
You know, just fronts for large generators or gas tanks or something.
Next door is one, you can tell because the curtains are just black paint.
That and there are no ground floor windows which is weird for a supposed apartment.

I've always wondered what was behind it but never had the guts to look.
According to my upstairs neighbour's kid there's a door connecting us to next door in the attic.
That would sound reasonable but for the act that there is no attic, just another flat.
I even asked the guy who lives there and he showed me that there's just a wall.

I still wanted to get into next door, just to see what was in there.
The only option that came to mind was to try the back door, surely it was a real door right?
I made sure to do it late at night so I was less likely to get caught.
I'd hoped that it wouldn't even be locked, maybe they wouldn't think anyone would try it?

Seems they didn't even bother to close it properly, not that I'd ever seen anyone go in or out.
Maybe it was the kid from upstairs, he was generally a bit of a nuisance.
Carefully pushing the door in, I flicked my torch on and gently let the door shut behind me.
It was dank and dark inside but it was otherwise well kept.

I heard a faint humming noise so I figured this was some kind of generator building.
There were signs up all over the place warning about health and safety, generator maintenance etc.
I paid them no real mind, just making a mental note of the main issues apparently involved.
Every sign at some point mentioned keeping out of mouth's reach.

It made no sense, was the caretaker here a bit off or something?
Was there even a caretaker or did someone just come in from time to time?
I never found the answer to the latter.
The former became clear when I found the source of the hum.

It was the kid from upstairs.
He was sitting in the middle of a large room clutching a bag to his chest.
His face was white as a sheet so forsaking my further investigations I took him home.
He told me not to knock, he had a key and was going to let himself in all quiet like.

As ill as he looked I left him there and went to my own flat for the night.
Next thing I know it was midday and the Mrs upstairs was screaming and crying.
I went halfway up the steps and had a quick look, see if I could help maybe.
There were two policemen at her door, hats off and solemn faced.

I walked up to the Mrs and asked if she was okay, what happened and such.
The kid had been found a few streets down.
Stone cold dead, chest sliced to ribbons.
The killer had even stuffed most of his innards into a bag, made it look like he was sleeping.