Dead of Night

Welcome to Scary Story Podcast. A man gets a great deal on an apartment and moves in, but everything has a price. Soon enough, he discovers what he's paying for. My name is Edwin, and here's a scary story. The bright screen on my phone set three a M on the dot, two notifications, and my eyes could not read just yet. They were still stinging from the glow and shock of waking up. So suddenly I rolled out of bed and over to face the large window that led to the balcony of the building. My feet hit the top of the shoes as I took those five steps and moved the curtain to its side. Dead silence. No lights were coming from any of the windows I could see, and the only thing that drew my attention was the lonely street lamp below me, flickering against the fog from that night. Nothing else was moving. Prior to moving there, I downloaded a bunch of movies and videos from YouTube and stayed laid into the night, parked outside. I was used to moving around, but never for a lease this long, a whole year this time. Those around me would say that I was exaggerating a bit, but after hearing enough apartment hunting stories. I prepared as much as possible that was parked right there by that street lamp, hearing for any noises of the flickers and that orange glow above the roof of my car. There was something hypnotic about it, and even though it was random, after being there for five or six hours, kind of start to find a pattern to things that don't deserve it. I imagine the plays buzzing with people walking up and down those sidewalks. Faces, things you normally don't see and recognize when you're daydreaming were clear. Children and their Sunday best and all the men were in suits. The older people were the most confident, while the young ones looked confused. I rubbed my eyes and focused back on the movie, a French one, so I had to backtrack a couple of minutes because I was watching it with captions on as I tried to ignore the flickering light above me. I left about thirty minutes before sunrise before making plans to come back on Saturday, although that never came. The street was quiet, the building was still. It would be a great quiet place to live for those twelve months, and it was for the first day that second night, I had turned off my television and PS four on the other room. The TV was still on the floor, but I left it and got into bed by about ten at night, which was way too early for me. But there was something about me that changed then. I was suddenly feeling more responsible or tired earlier. Maybe it was the place, Perhaps it was moving all that furniture or cleaning, And so I looked at the ceiling fan as it slowed down and blended with the darkness of the paint that spread from beneath my eyelids, and soon I was out. When it was sometime in the middle of the night that I heard it, the siren, like an old warning alarm, blaring at me from all directions. I don't know how long it did that for, but as soon as they shook my head awake and was conscious enough to look round the room, the sound was only echoing and fading. I stayed there, staring at the ceiling, expecting that sound to come back at any moment. When for I knew it, the sunlight was coming through the thin curtains. They were finally hitting my eyes and woke me up. It was in the shower when I remembered the strange sounds from the night before. The squeak of the knob to turn the hot water on brought me back for an instant, but like with most things, I forgot about it again once I got in the car and had to put the maps app to get me to work. The area of town was New Wish according to some of my co workers, and I barely knew how to get out of there. Apartments and lots for businesses were selling for cheap after being on the market for several months. There was nobody on the street until I got to the highway. When I got back, I got to see one of the neighbors in the building from somewhere in the second floor. He looked at me with a confused expression in his eyes before nervously approaching me. He introduced himself as Pablo, but quickly cut me off when it was my turn to say my name and my part of the small talk. Have you noticed anything about this place, he asked, eagerly waiting for my response, yet he spoke right before I did. He gets weirdly quiet around here, doesn't it a little? I told him, before explaining to him that I liked quiet and that yes, there was something weird about the neighborhood in general. Very few lights were on from the windows in the other buildings, almost no cars or people in the morning. I could tell he was opening his mouth to interrupt me again, so I stopped mid sentenced to let him speak. Have you seen the children? Now? I'm not one for ghost stories, especially when it was literally my first month out of twelve in this place and that was slowly turning into a horror silent film movie with this guy in front of me. The building looked new, the water pressure was fine, and the internet was blazing fast. What else could I ask for? This guy was about to ruin it. I've been here for several months already, and let me tell you, this place is haunted. I did some research. I waited for him to continue, but he was pausing for questions or something. I took the opportunity to say that I needed to go, and he stopped me. You're gonna tell me you're the only person in the building that's sleep well, he joked nervously. Well yeah, except for the siren, I shot back. The siren he looked me right in the eyes. The alarm, the sound at night. I said, I took a deep breath. It woke me up. Relieved. His face relaxed once again as he forced out a semi smile. Disappointed in my answer, he told me that there was about a dozen or so resident in the building at the time. Most would not stay for longer than a couple of months, so that's why the owner made twelve month leases at a good price, but that the ones that had stayed, all of them, every single one, had experienced something in the building, but with no apparent connection, and this guy, Pablo, was going to be the one to solve everything. He mentioned the couple on the third floor that had gotten someone knocking at their door at around midnight, would happen often, and he had bothered them so much that they requested to have security cameras installed in the hallways, much to the other residents discontent, privacy and all that. They were able to install a camera on their door, but they got in in argument with other people over it. I really didn't want to hear about these things that roamed around the building. Honestly, had not gotten much sleep the night before, and I still hadn't gone shopping, so I had a Carl's Junior burger going cold in my backpack. As this guy kept talking, he told me about the janitor, a man that has been spotted roaming around the halls holding a broom, one who, upon reaching the end of the hallway, would simply vanish. But Pobo's experiences in the building were something else entirely. What he had seen actually made me feel sorry for him, and also made me understand his obsession with getting to the bottom of it. His father had died recently, and while on his deathbed, he claimed to see two spirits that were coming to get him. They were like creatures that crawled along the walls and quickly scurried along the floor and under the bed. At first, Pablo thought that it was just his father losing his mind as he described it, until he saw them himself. He was up early in the morning before sunrise, sorting out the pills he would give his father every morning, when out of the corner of his eye, he watched a dark figure completely black, make its way toward the room where his father was staying. Terrified, he dropped as he was holding and it was a sound of bottles that snapped them out of his frozen state. He ran tover the room and watch as the things crawled out the window. His father's eyes were wide open and staring at the ceiling. A few days after that, his father passed and he has yet to see those figures again. Still, he said, now I believe in that there's something here. He was about to tell me about the history of the plays proof He said that the grounds were haunted, but I finally interrupted him as I pointed to my phone and said that I needed to make a quick call, but that I would see him around Apartment two twenty six, he shouted as I walked away. That's where I am. See you have a good one. I walked up the stairs to my floor and walked to my unit. Once inside, I locked the door and leaned against it, worried about what I had gotten myself into. I didn't want to believe in ghost I didn't, especially not from a place that I just moved into. It was practically brand new. But I thought of Pablo from the second floor and chuckled, thinking that the types of neighbors that I would have to deal with from now on. But it was getting to me. I could imagine those things he talked about, and if I stayed real quiet. I could almost hear the faint footsteps coming directly from my room. It's just my imagination, I said to myself, as I opened up my backpack and took out the greasy bag to place on the tiny table in the living room. Part two of Dead of Night just coming up. Right after this stay with me, I fell asleep at around ten at night, exhausted from everything. There was a never ending amount of things to move around in the living room, and I had to set up my computer. Still everything was a mess. I fell asleep with my phone in my hand, the moon barely visible through the curtains directly in front of the bed. Next thing, I remember that alarm was blaring again, like a siren, cranking at Max's volume from inside the apartment. I did my best to open my eyes. I remember shaking my head back and forth, unable to get my eyes to unstick, until somehow my arm was freed and I was able to rub my face the sound stopped. I stood up a little bit faster this time and ran to the window, expecting to see other lights on from people being woken up by this loud thing in the middle of the night, but no. I grabbed my phone at four percent battery now, as it displayed in big white numbers, three two am. Everyone else, the whole neighborhood must sleep like a rock. I stayed by the window for several minutes, waiting for the sound to come back. There was a certain tension in the air that told me that it would, and yet it was only the deafening silence that made me feel the most uncomfortable. The sound of my socks against the tile floor as I walked back to my bed were the last things I heard that night. My morning went just like the one before. I was tired, barely awake as I had some instant coffee and got in the car, driving through that empty neighborhood. No cars on driveways, no one walking around the park with the freshly painted fences and playgrounds. Once I got back to the apartment building, I once again bumped into Pablo. He was standing by the front of the building a cigarette in his left hand. He put it out on the ash tray on top of the trash can by the door as he waved at me and walked over. I didn't get to tell you yesterday, he said, skipping all the helloes I was on the paper he took out his phone and handed it to me. On the browser, there was an article from the Harding Times, the local newspaper, about an investigation of the complaints from the resident in the area, but the hauntings. I ignored what he was saying as I read through the article. An interesting account from a local, missus Dors, who claimed to have seen a group of people in her living room on the first floor of a nearby building, all of them wearing black as if mourning the death of someone, and she saw them when she went into her living room. She made eye contact with one of them, and suddenly all of them turned to look at her. In shock. She ran back to her room and called her husband, who had already gone to work. He demanded that she called the police right away, which she did, but upon arriving her apartment was perfectly empty. It all happened in a matter of minutes. She claimed they were all gone. The second feature of the story was Pablo Gianis then the story of his father. There had been so much more detail that he skipped over. When he told me there were sounds in the apartment, the sobbing in the middle of the night, He of course thought it was his father, until he started checking in on him when he heard the noises, only to find him sound asleep. When did you get here, he asked me, as I was near the end of the article two nights ago. I responded, waiting for him to explain to me why he had asked me such a question. We still have time, he said. He told me that residents in the area were subject to a local law that would let you move away from your apartment within five days. That's if you change your mind. The original proposal, before it became a law, had been for a month, but the building owners teamed up and were able to squeeze their way out of it, reducing it to only five days. I had never heard of such a law anywhere, basically being allowed to break your contract within five days of signing, just like that, no questions asked, Pablo said, looking at me dead in the eye. It's because of the circumstances, He explained, Who are we to say what exists and what doesn't. I was very confused thanks to this guy, and I think he had just figured it out without asking. He started explaining what had happened with a Kimberly Stone memorial cemetery. How it had been one of the largest in the state and had been recently relocated to the area beyond the park. Every tombstone neatly organized in a grid over there, completely different than what it had been, which was only a scattered yard with crooked tombstones and memorials. That's where all this is built, he said, extending his arms and looking around. He chuckled as he looked down at his shoes and kicked away the leaf right in front of him. But I don't think they moved everyone. He both stayed quiet for a bit until he broke the silence again, telling me to go check my contract, that the clause had to be in there as required by the county, a special order only for this area, that I still had time. I don't know if it was my mind playing tricks on me now, but I kept thinking of the night I stayed in my car nearby, analyzing the noise situation that had been no alarm, but I had imagine crowds of people roaming the street. I'd blamed it on my tired brain. But what if there was some truth to all of this? I would be stuck living in a haunted building, A haunted neighborhood for a full year. Of course, I also thought that it all could have been a trick to get me to leave. I hadn't seen anyone else besides Pablo in the building or in the whole street. Even well, you still have a couple of days, Papo said. I simply nodded. The price was good for what I was getting, especially during these times. I had to get ear plugs to sleep through the alarm in the middle of the night, so be it. I had just at my backpack and turned toward the front door, saying bye to Pablo while making my way inside and up to my floor. The same thing happened that third night in the apartment, with that blaring siren that stopped that just as I opened my eyes. This time, I ran faster toward the window, but there was nothing even as I opened it, only the soft sound of the wind against the trees of the park across the street, the lone street lamp struggling to keep itself on. I stayed up for a while that night. I had to make a choice was it going to stay? And mornings at work were terrible, and not just because I couldn't get sleep, but because of the constant feeling of being watched around the apartment. Those ghost stories were becoming real, at least in my mind. But I made a plan. That next day, a Saturday, I knocked on Unit two twenty six to talk to Pablo. I wanted all of the details, the stories, and everything that he knew. He of course, was delighted to talk to me about it, telling me that he had been there for about eight months, with only one other resident that had stayed longer than him. They had gotten there right when the development was finished, about a year and a half. He told me the stories of the people on my same floor, the ones who had started moving right in the middle of the night, upon seeing their daughter being dragged up and toward the railing of their balcony. They freaked out and called the police, and everyone came, the fire department, the ambulance, and behind everyone some family members to help with the move. They were out by sunrise. He then mentioned the story of the woman in the paper, Missus Dorres, about the people in her living room. He told me that he knew her and that there was lots more to that story that she was afraid to share it with the reporters. Because the story was too out there even for him. People crowds could be seen roaming the streets, sometimes believed to be the lost souls of kimberly Stone Memorial Cemetery had been a greedy move from the city to approve its relocation. I thought of my first night outside in the car, the confused people walking aimlessly at night to the regular rhythm of that street lamp. I was a little relieved to know that Missus Torres was another person who had also witnessed the same thing. We were out there in the hallway when we heard footsteps approaching. Finally I get to see another one of the residents of the building, but they never turned the corner. Silence took over. Pablo raised his eyebrows as he looked at me as if saying that, yeah, it was nobody. Do you believe me now? Back in my apartment, I walked organizing a few things, stubting if it was all a waste of time, if I was going to move out. But then I would stop and then tell myself to continue that these stories were just stories, and that's it. I said, by the kitchen sink, looking at the garbage bag that I had forgotten to bring down earlier in the day, but now it was late. We'll just wait until morning. At night, I set an alarm to vibrate a little before three in the morning, I would be awake and ready to hear where that blaring siren was coming from. And a little later than usual, I would say, around midnight. I managed to fall asleep. The phone was louder than I thought it would be against the nightstand, but I had done it. Two fifty five am and I was awake. I looked up and around the room. It was darker than usual, but there was a soft orange glow coming from the street lamp below, filling up part of the wall and ceiling. Two fifty eight am. I sat up on the bed, ready to jump out if I needed to, but all I could hear was my heart beating. That street lamp was still flickering. Two fifty nine am. Everything was perfectly still. A scream. I looked to the corner of the room to see an old woman standing in her eyes and mouth wide open, her hands against the sight of her face. I rolled out of bed on the side closer to the door, and bolted to the living room. I grabbed my keys, and ran out to the hallway, realizing that I had rekinded my phone and wallet, and yet I kept going all the way down to the garage and to the car. I pulled out of the gate, driving past these people spirits roaming aimlessly on the street. I got to the highway and drove to the truck stop just a couple of miles away, and waited for sunrise. I moved out that same morning. Scary Story podcast is written and produced by me Edwin Kovarubias. You can find me over on TikTok and Instagram at ed That's E d W I n c o V. That's where I'll be replying to your comments and sharing more creepy things with you. Add Free episodes are on scary plus dot com or on the link that's on your app right now. I have other podcast shows too, available for free if you search for scary Fm. Check them out and let me know what you think. Thank you very much for listening. Keep it scary everyone, See you soon.