Number Four…


The number covered with verdigris was crooked as always. I stared at the mysterious door leading to an apartment number 4. I lived behind the door number 3, just opposite of the dark, slightly battered door with the crooked number plate.

Since I moved in I have never saw a person take as much as a peek from behind those doors. Strange indeed. From the landlady I knew that somebody did in fact live in that apartment but nobody saw him for a very long time. It’s not even entirely certain that it is a he, it might as well be a she.

Can’t say that I’m entirely comfortable living in such neighbourhood but the price was cheap and my apartment looked quaint but comfy. I didn’t have much choice but to take it, it’s not like I have lots of money to spend.

I took a last quick glance at the once copper number 4 and disappeared behind my own door.

When I was removing my shoes I heard a strange noise, as if something was scratching, trying to move on the corridor. I placed my hands on the flat surface of the door and leaned into the peephole. I was afraid but also curious what I would see.

And what I saw was just the beginning of the many bizarre things that begun to happen…


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