The best and worst thing about apartment stairways is that they bounce sound amazingly well.
When I was in an apartment tower near the city centre I could always hear another person walking the stairs with me but never in all my years did I actually see them. Not until I was moving out and they came to check in on me.
You can't always tell a human apart from an... Other just by their footsteps. I certainly wasn't prepared to open the door to something that looked like a humanish face stretched over a cow's skull with a body that resembled about eight bodies merged together.
She gave me the name Tamara to call her and said that if I left that night I'd be dead within the week. As much as I hate following irrational superstitions, the words of the Others aren't to be taken lightly. Every night for three weeks I'd come back to the empty apartment, every night for three weeks I'd wander the stairwells trying to find her and ask if the time was right yet.
I always heard her but never saw her, though I swear I was never alone in that apartment. Sound bounces just as well in a series of empty rooms as it does in a stairwell and footsteps never seemed to stop following me. Not until I was forced out by the landlord.
Writing this from my new house may be the last thing I do.
I still hear the footsteps only now I know where they are.
When I was in an apartment tower near the city centre I could always hear another person walking the stairs with me but never in all my years did I actually see them. Not until I was moving out and they came to check in on me.
You can't always tell a human apart from an... Other just by their footsteps. I certainly wasn't prepared to open the door to something that looked like a humanish face stretched over a cow's skull with a body that resembled about eight bodies merged together.
She gave me the name Tamara to call her and said that if I left that night I'd be dead within the week. As much as I hate following irrational superstitions, the words of the Others aren't to be taken lightly. Every night for three weeks I'd come back to the empty apartment, every night for three weeks I'd wander the stairwells trying to find her and ask if the time was right yet.
I always heard her but never saw her, though I swear I was never alone in that apartment. Sound bounces just as well in a series of empty rooms as it does in a stairwell and footsteps never seemed to stop following me. Not until I was forced out by the landlord.
Writing this from my new house may be the last thing I do.
I still hear the footsteps only now I know where they are.
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