So-So Apartment

It all started when I decided to move to a bigger city. Before relocating, I looked for a rental apartment where I could live for a while and found a two-room place on the outskirts of town. The owner was an elderly man, quite pleasant in conversation. He charged little, and the apartment itself was mediocre, not in the best condition. Only one burner on the stove worked, the freezer in the fridge was broken, and there was no wallpaper. I agreed with the owner that I would move in in a couple of days and pay once I settled in. Returning home, I posted an ad to rent out my own place, calculating that I could earn more from it than I would pay in rent. Tenants were found quickly, and a couple of days later I packed my things and moved into the rental. I didn’t take much with me: clothes, a computer, a game console, books, dishes. Everything else was already in the apartment.

So, I moved in and started living there (the smell in the stairwell, by the way, had a hint of rot to it, and sometimes it even seeped into the apartment). On the very first evening, I unpacked and then sat down at my computer. I worked for about two hours, then got tired and put on a movie. It was a long one, and I started dozing off in the armchair.

Suddenly, a sound came from the kitchen, as if someone had turned on a Chinese lawn mower. I woke up instantly. Comparing it to a lawn mower was, of course, an exaggeration, but the noise was unpleasant. Carefully walking into the kitchen, I realized that the refrigerator made such tricks when it turned on. The thing was, I didn’t remember turning it on at all. Calming down, I went back to my room.

After finishing the movie, I went out onto the balcony for a smoke, having first put the kettle on the stove to boil. No one was sitting on the benches outside anymore, so nothing disturbed me as I stood there thinking about life. While I was lost in thought, the balcony door slowly began to close. I didn’t notice exactly how it shut, but I clearly heard it hit the frame. I tried to open it, and it resisted. It felt as if someone were holding it from the other side and didn’t want to let me in. When I finally entered the kitchen, I found that the kettle of boiling water had tipped over for no apparent reason.

Unable to find an explanation for these oddities, I decided I needed some sleep. After turning off the computer, I lay down on the fold-out couch. Since I’m quite a coward, I left the hallway light on and turned on the TV. I set the TV timer for exactly one hour. After watching late-night programming for about twenty more minutes, I fell asleep.

When I woke up in the morning, I discovered that the TV was still on, and the hallway light had turned off by itself. I examined the chandelier in the hallway—the bulb hadn’t burned out; someone had simply turned off the light using the switch. Then I checked the TV—apparently someone had turned it back on after the timer had shut it off. Well, who knows, maybe the old man had broken the TV before...

I got hungry and went to the store to buy some dumplings. After buying everything I needed, I realized I had forgotten to take the intercom key with me. The neighbors stubbornly refused to answer their intercoms, and I began waiting at the entrance in the hope that someone would come in or go out. It was cold, and I was outside in jeans and a thin sweater. At some point, in desperation, I rang my own apartment. Now imagine how I felt when someone picked up the receiver in my apartment—and even unlocked the door without any noise!

I completely lost the desire to enter the apartment. I clearly remembered locking it when I left. I comforted myself with the thought that perhaps the old man had come to check on the place. He had a key, so, slightly reassured, I went in and climbed up to the third floor. The door to my apartment was locked...

At that point I was truly frightened. Very quietly, I entered the apartment and looked around—empty. All my things were in place. I put the groceries in the fridge, grabbed my computer, and quickly left. I ate at a café, where I sat for a couple of hours drinking coffee. First of all, I told my acquaintances about what had happened via Skype. Everyone reacted in the same way: “Have you gone crazy?” I thought it over myself and realized it all sounded like complete nonsense.

During the day, having gathered some courage, I returned to the apartment. Everything was normal; nothing unusual happened. But a little later, while I was sitting at the computer again, something occurred that I will never forget: loud laughter came from the kitchen! That was it—I couldn’t take it anymore. I grabbed my keys and laptop and bolted out of the apartment. I put on my shoes outside, sitting on a bench.

I called the apartment owner and told him everything. It turned out he used to live there with his younger daughter; later she died from an illness. The old man no longer wanted to live in the apartment and immediately began renting it out.

Later, after thinking it over, I realized that everything that happened in the apartment somehow helped me. The refrigerator turning on saved the food that would have spoiled because of my forgetfulness; if it hadn’t been for the incident with the balcony door, I would have walked into the kitchen without caution and surely stepped into the boiling water; if someone hadn’t opened the building door for me, I would have frozen badly. But I still didn’t stay in that apartment—I don’t like all that mystical stuff.