The Apartment Next Door

Ever since I moved into my apartment in 1984, I’ve encountered strange things in my apartment block. Almost of the paranormal.

I’ve had drug addicts living in my block, who would always wake up at 4am to snort drugs in the stairwells. I’ve had an ex-banker who rented out one of the spare flats, and then got caught using counterfeit money.

But, this time, it was different.

I got to the front door of my apartment after finishing work. As usual, I pulled my set of keys out of my blazer pocket, and slowly searched for the largest key, which was the one I used for my front door. And the second I put my key into the door handle, I heard a loud noise coming from behind me. Almost as if the noise was a knock on the door. But only it was short … and loud.

When I heard the noise, I thought nothing of it. Perhaps, someone made a loud noise that just sounded like a door knock.

So, I kept turning the key, until I heard the small click sound coming from the keyhole. I entered my apartment. Nothing happened.

But then, a new day fell. I was yet again, pulling the keys out of my pocket. And, yet again, put the key in the door handle.

Then …

There came another loud knock. I still thought nothing of it, but was a little bit curious at what the sound could be.

And then it came again.

I turned around, leaving my keys sitting in the door handle, and looked behind me. I thought that it must’ve been coming from the apartment across the landing. It sounded like it was.

I, somewhat quickly, turned the key and went inside.

And then the next day fell. I quickly pulled out my keys, remembering about the reoccurring noises coming from the other apartment. And before I even put my key into the handle, I remembered something.

I remembered that that apartment was supposed to be empty. And that, judging from the decade-old real estate sign handing outside, it hadn’t even been owned yet. I felt spooked.

I rushed the key into the hole, and then was met by an even louder, more sudden knocking sound.

And then again.

I turned around, awaiting a predicted third knock, and stared at the number ‘33’ sitting on the middle of the door.

I waited. And waited. And waited. Nothing happened.

Minutes had eventually passed, and yet still no noise arose from apartment 33. One part of me somewhat felt an urge to just rush home and get away from the paranormal. But my adventurous side had just been granted a powerful victory.

I walked towards the door, pretending to have fearlessness, whilst my heart was trying to beat outside my chest.

I kept walking closer, it was as if something was just drawing me in. Unwillingly.

I moved my left eye towards the first number ‘3’ … and then stood still.

After a few days, a resident from one of the upper floors went downstairs and saw the key still sitting in the door handle. Facing across from apartment 33. The dangling keys kept moving with the non-existent wind. Just waiting.

Waiting …