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The fan at night (½)
"Welcome to your new Home!" the Realtor said.
I don't really remember his name, but I remember the date perfectly.
September 11
"You are really lucky" he said. That smug grin on his face was almost suspicious. "This was a total steal, you wouldn't get a better price in the entire town!"
There was some truth to this. I got this apartment for very cheap. Although I am aware that the reasons for inexpensive homes usually begin with a macabre story, and as rumors go, this exactly IS it, but I was never one to believe in such urban legends. The realtor himself seems satisfied in not telling me anything regarding its past.
"So are we done here?" he asked.
I nodded.
"Well, then, great! Give me a call if you need anything!".
And out he went. The happiest moment since I got here, honestly. I thought to myself. You see, I am an introvert and I detest chatty people who are needlessly on to go about rambling about how great the world is. Part of my hope in living here comes from the fact that it will deter visitors. And I'm banking on it.
I don't have family per say. Atleast none who matters. My parents died in a car crash two years ago. Ever since, I have stopped taking calls and have been focused solely on work. My only living passion, would be engineering. That is, until I was transferred.
For the past two years, it seems lady luck had scorned at me. My parents died, my girlfriend left me, I lost my job from which I regained a few months later, albeit with relentless shameless badgering. All for minimum wage, but no matter.
Part of the reason I moved to this town was to begin anew. I didn't have a lot of money, but I didn't have a lot of love lost in my previous home, either. When I regained my job, they posted me to a shanty town in the middle of nowhere and it was just perfect for me. To be honest, I quite like it here. Neighbours seem to be quiet, and there's not a lot of crime going on in the papers. The only showcase for scandal here is my home.
They say it used to belong to a person involved with the underworld, and apparently he used this place as his execution chamber. People used to say that they'd see bodies hanging from the fans from the uncurtained windows.
Maybe that's why some stopped working, hah! I thought, amused. It was no problem for me, of course. I was an engineer. That is, until the night.
You see, I can't seem to get any sleep without the fans on. So I had fixed the ceiling fans, and off I went to bed early for the night, stoked for a busy day the next day.
That night, I swear I heard one of the fans humming. a deep, soft hum unlike anything I've heard before. It's driving me insane, I thought.
"1, 2, 3"....
What was that. I swore I heard someone say it to me. Unrelented, I took some pills to help me sleep.
September 12
A beautiful morning, with the exception of one thing. My bedroom fan seems to have broke. Immediately, I fixed it, and also tried to find the source of the weird humming and other such noises I heard the previous night, but found nothing.
"Ring, Ring". My phone rang.
"Hello?"
"Hey, Jim. It's your boss".
"Hey! I just moved to town!"
"I heard. It must've been quite hectic for you, why don't you take the week off and settle down. I will see you next week, 9AM sharp, you hear me?"
"Sweet!" I said. "Thank you so much"
He hung up.
"Dammit", I thought to myself, as I wanted to start work asap.
"But nomatter, I'll focus on settling down".
It did not pass my mind, though, the strange sounds I had heard the night before. It had kept bothering me, and sooner or later, I couldn't help but dig a little deeper into the history of the home, and I did so by researching it on hauntedhouses.com.
Apparently the previous owner used to tell his victims to count to three before they meet their untimely death.
Strange, thought I.
It was then that I realised how much of an idiot I was and had put 2 and 2 together.
"That's where I heard it! So it wasn't some dream!" I revelled, finally relaxed to know I'm not crazy.
I decided to do a little more digging, so I went up to each of my neighbour's doors. Although I knew that they heard my ringing the doorbell and could see me through the peephole, the sound of their steps going back without receiving me was a bit of a disappointment.
Except one.
Mr. Steve was an oddball, and as soon as he heard me ring his door he immediately came up to me, told me I was gonna die soon, and slammed the door to my face.
"What a bunch of weirdos" I thought, slightly disappointed at my failed mission. I went back to my apartment, checked on the fans once again, then prepared for an early dinner.
As I sat alone, eating, I could've sworn I saw an old man walking to and fro in the bedroom. I grabbed my bat to confront that sly mf who dared intrude in my space.
As I approached the doorway, I could hear some murmurs in the room.
"How can that be?" I thought.
"I only saw ONE old man"
I jumped into the room, ready to bash the living hell out of anybody who might be in there.
But there was no one.
Just a rope tied in the form of a noose, the empty room, and I.
-To be continued-
*Part 2 in 3 days*
© Ben Tariang
I don't really remember his name, but I remember the date perfectly.
September 11
"You are really lucky" he said. That smug grin on his face was almost suspicious. "This was a total steal, you wouldn't get a better price in the entire town!"
There was some truth to this. I got this apartment for very cheap. Although I am aware that the reasons for inexpensive homes usually begin with a macabre story, and as rumors go, this exactly IS it, but I was never one to believe in such urban legends. The realtor himself seems satisfied in not telling me anything regarding its past.
"So are we done here?" he asked.
I nodded.
"Well, then, great! Give me a call if you need anything!".
And out he went. The happiest moment since I got here, honestly. I thought to myself. You see, I am an introvert and I detest chatty people who are needlessly on to go about rambling about how great the world is. Part of my hope in living here comes from the fact that it will deter visitors. And I'm banking on it.
I don't have family per say. Atleast none who matters. My parents died in a car crash two years ago. Ever since, I have stopped taking calls and have been focused solely on work. My only living passion, would be engineering. That is, until I was transferred.
For the past two years, it seems lady luck had scorned at me. My parents died, my girlfriend left me, I lost my job from which I regained a few months later, albeit with relentless shameless badgering. All for minimum wage, but no matter.
Part of the reason I moved to this town was to begin anew. I didn't have a lot of money, but I didn't have a lot of love lost in my previous home, either. When I regained my job, they posted me to a shanty town in the middle of nowhere and it was just perfect for me. To be honest, I quite like it here. Neighbours seem to be quiet, and there's not a lot of crime going on in the papers. The only showcase for scandal here is my home.
They say it used to belong to a person involved with the underworld, and apparently he used this place as his execution chamber. People used to say that they'd see bodies hanging from the fans from the uncurtained windows.
Maybe that's why some stopped working, hah! I thought, amused. It was no problem for me, of course. I was an engineer. That is, until the night.
You see, I can't seem to get any sleep without the fans on. So I had fixed the ceiling fans, and off I went to bed early for the night, stoked for a busy day the next day.
That night, I swear I heard one of the fans humming. a deep, soft hum unlike anything I've heard before. It's driving me insane, I thought.
"1, 2, 3"....
What was that. I swore I heard someone say it to me. Unrelented, I took some pills to help me sleep.
September 12
A beautiful morning, with the exception of one thing. My bedroom fan seems to have broke. Immediately, I fixed it, and also tried to find the source of the weird humming and other such noises I heard the previous night, but found nothing.
"Ring, Ring". My phone rang.
"Hello?"
"Hey, Jim. It's your boss".
"Hey! I just moved to town!"
"I heard. It must've been quite hectic for you, why don't you take the week off and settle down. I will see you next week, 9AM sharp, you hear me?"
"Sweet!" I said. "Thank you so much"
He hung up.
"Dammit", I thought to myself, as I wanted to start work asap.
"But nomatter, I'll focus on settling down".
It did not pass my mind, though, the strange sounds I had heard the night before. It had kept bothering me, and sooner or later, I couldn't help but dig a little deeper into the history of the home, and I did so by researching it on hauntedhouses.com.
Apparently the previous owner used to tell his victims to count to three before they meet their untimely death.
Strange, thought I.
It was then that I realised how much of an idiot I was and had put 2 and 2 together.
"That's where I heard it! So it wasn't some dream!" I revelled, finally relaxed to know I'm not crazy.
I decided to do a little more digging, so I went up to each of my neighbour's doors. Although I knew that they heard my ringing the doorbell and could see me through the peephole, the sound of their steps going back without receiving me was a bit of a disappointment.
Except one.
Mr. Steve was an oddball, and as soon as he heard me ring his door he immediately came up to me, told me I was gonna die soon, and slammed the door to my face.
"What a bunch of weirdos" I thought, slightly disappointed at my failed mission. I went back to my apartment, checked on the fans once again, then prepared for an early dinner.
As I sat alone, eating, I could've sworn I saw an old man walking to and fro in the bedroom. I grabbed my bat to confront that sly mf who dared intrude in my space.
As I approached the doorway, I could hear some murmurs in the room.
"How can that be?" I thought.
"I only saw ONE old man"
I jumped into the room, ready to bash the living hell out of anybody who might be in there.
But there was no one.
Just a rope tied in the form of a noose, the empty room, and I.
-To be continued-
*Part 2 in 3 days*
© Ben Tariang
