Jeff flicked the light switch. It did not turn on, even though he had changed the bulb the other day. And it was a long life LED, so he knew that was not the cause. He sighed. Should he even bother going through the landlord?

Well, even if he worked on it himself, there was little he could do. At least, not this early in the morning. He headed to the small kitchen and started brewing the dark nectar that was coffee. As he waited for it to brew, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye.

The shadows roiled and twisted. The air seemed to grow a little colder as the darkness moved. It came together, deepening and solidifying. The mass of pure darkness rose, shifting into a humanoid form. Its arms were thin and long, and its thin fingers ended in claws the size of large kitchen knives. The creature's face was a hollow ball of shadows, save for the eyes. Two silver circles set into pure darkness shone out. The creature raised one of its clawed hands.

Jeff groaned. "Really, Ted? We talked about this. If you want something, knock on the door."

"Sorry." Ted said. His voice was like the cold wind of winter blowing through a dark forest. "I wasn't sure if you were up yet. I didn't want to wake you if you were still asleep."

"Uh-huh." Jeff said dully.

The coffee was just finishing up, and he went to get his cup. He was about to get a second for Ted, but then he remembered the living shadow did not eat or drink. So, he just set about getting us own cup ready. Even a single sip was enough to improve his mood.

"So, what's up?" He asked.

"My shower isn't working." Ted said.

"I thought you didn't need to shower. You know, being an incorporeal being and all."

"I don't, but Scott does."

"Ah, right. Did you get Mr. Devone to take a look at it?"

"Why bother? He won't do anything."

Jeff nodded. Their landlord was indeed known for being lazy. It was faster to just do it himself. But still, taking care of this building was not easy. Scott, for example, had probably broken the shower when his horn punctured something. The problems of being a minotaur, he supposed.

"True. I'll take a look at it later."

Ted gave his thanks and vanished into the floor. Jeff took his time to savor his coffee and get himself some breakfast. Once he was done, he got a few things he might need, and headed to Ted and Scott's apartment. Then he would go down to see if the demon couple downstairs had actually taken steps to keep the floors from charring.

Lots to do for his neighbors, especially in the old building. After all, just because the other residents were horrible monsters did not mean he had to be one too.

I am so incredibly broke. Like, genuinely. It’s unreal. So when I came across an ad for cheaper rent than I’ve seen anywhere else, I jumped on the opportunity. I called the landlord immediately. It rang a few times before picking up.

“Pear St. apartments, this is Dave.” I expected more, something along the lines of, “How can I help you?” or “What can I do for you?” But no. His tone matched his low effort speech, too. It was gruff and lazy, drawling like he had been drinking since 8am. For a moment, I was reconsidering, but that quickly disappeared when the rent price popped into my head again.

“Hi, sir. I’d like to apply for an apartment.”

So that’s where I am now. I didn’t look at the place much online because I really didn’t care. But now that I’m standing in front of it, I wish I had. I insert the key into the rusty lock and try to turn it. The key snaps. I blink a few times at the key-head on the ground a few feet away.

Click

I turn back to the lock and see that it turned seemingly on its own. “Maybe some kind of delay?” I muse. I step through the crumbling doorway and am met by the smell of mildew and wild animals. “Ah, fuck….” It’ll take a while to clean all of this. I take another step forward and reach behind me to give the door a push to close it. It’s not there.

SLAM

“Um, okay.” I don’t know what else to say, it must be a draft. A window to the left is open. Oh. Not anymore. It slams shut so hard that the glass shatters. I guess I might as well start cleaning now.

It takes hours to get all the trash out of the small one bed, one bath, apartment. I duct tape a towel over the broken window to keep the crisp, autumn air out. There’s a quaint, brick fireplace opposite the broken window. When I have enough crumpled news papers and other flammable materials, I start a small fire. Luckily, there were pieces of plywood strewn around the house. I kneel in front of it and rub my hands together before holding them out to the fire. I can feel my stiff fingers thawing when a cold gust of air strikes down the chimney. When I open my eyes, I can see light ashes on my eyelashes and I can feel it just a bit in my nose. I sneeze before sticking my head in a bit to look up the chute. There’s no way the wind should have been able to do that.

I light another fire, careful this time to set up a protective barrier between the fire and my wonderfully dilapidated home. A single spark could set the whole place aflame.

The sun went down hours ago, so I get the mattress out of the back of my truck and drag it into the house on its side. I push it to the bedroom and let it fall with a thump. An identical sound echos from the other side of the house. I’m too tired to care, however, so I just collapse on the mattress and curl up to sleep. Tomorrow, I’ll start the repairs.

The sun rises around 6am and I get up with it. I don’t sleep until around 10pm and I continue this routine for the next two weeks. The whole place is new by the time I’m done with it. The only problem is: weird stuff kept happening. The entirety of the two weeks, there would be some kind of irregular sound or wind or the feeling of someone’s hands on me, around my neck, every day without fail. I had increasingly terrifying nightmares that shook me away at all hours of the night in a cold sweat. I am choosing to blame it on all the work I’m doing. I’m just exhausted. I have to, because the other option is so much more complicated.

I’ll be honest, my abuelita is a mystic; that is to say, she entertains the devil and his underlings. This includes all the spirits of the dead. So the second I touched the door knob, I knew the place was haunted. Horrific scenes flashed before my eyes. My stomach clenched but I just brushed it off. That’s how I continued to respond to the paranormal happenings. And I would have continued like that if things had remained the same.

But they didn’t.

One morning, about a week in, I woke up to a fresh brewed cup of tea with a hint of lemon and a single mint leaf, just the way I like it. I stared at it for so long, it ended up cold. Finally, I just snatched the cup and downed it as quickly as possible. If it was poisoned in any way, it’d better be a quick death. But nothing happened. In fact, the tea was delicious.

It‘s little things like the morning tea that keeps happening since. No more of the creepy noises and chills. I find some kind of meal at breakfast, lunch, and dinner and somehow it’s always food that I love. The apartment seems to clean itself as I haven’t dusted or swept since repairing whatever it is. It even feels like the insulation got better.

It’s been three weeks since I moved in. I’m sitting at my new kitchen table, nose deep in a delicate journal kept by my abuelita. I always refused to open it, not because of shame but simply because I knew what it was and I didn’t want to continue the practice. But as I’m reading through the legible parts, my interest and amazement only grows. If what she wrote is true, then she made multiple contracts with spirits, demons, and once even the devil himself. Or so she says. She did hint that it might have just been an archdemon. But still.

I get to the back of the journal and sit frozen in shock. I feel like I just opened a third eye. Suddenly, the pages fly to the right and the cover follows, effectively closing it. My head shoots up and I stare at a grotesque form in front of me. It’s impossible to continue ignoring them.

A slimy voice slithers into my ears and a chill runs down my body. “So, you are admitting you can see us.”

I gulp, looking around the room at the bodies missing arms, legs, heads, faces; there’s even one that is a single leg with a scarred head perched on top. I look for the rest of it, but I suppose there’s a reason it doesn’t have it on them. I turn back to the apparent spokesperson sitting across from me. I nod.

“Good,” he continues. As he speaks, I pay close attention to his features. His left cheek is missing so I see his teeth and facial muscles. The right eye keeps slipping out of its socket so he blinks a lot to keep it in place. The skin itself is a sickly green, like what you would expect from a long dead person. “We would like to sign a contract. With you.” His words interrupt my thoughts.

“W-what do you mean?” I stammer. “I’m not a mystic, I can’t do that.” I think the spirit is grinning, but it’s hard to tell with only half his mouth. It very well could be a sneer.

“You don’t have to be one. You will work just fine because you have your grandmother’s blood,” he nods to the closed journal, “running through your veins. You read it, so you know now. You know how to sign a contract.”

Cody looked from the crumpled sheet of paper in his hand to the old graystone building in front of him.

"13 Gates Ave...Pandora Arms Apartments..." he mumbled, reading off the tarnished brass nameplate that hung askew from the outside of the building, held in place by a single remaining screw on one corner.

This was the place, and despite its somewhat run down condition, it didn't look nearly as bad as he'd expected. Cody wasn't sure why his boss, Roman, a bad tempered 40-something man of Eastern European extraction, had given him the tip on the Pandora Arms, when he'd mentioned he was looking for an apartment.

The previous week, when Roman found out Cody was dating his niece Maria, he'd literally threatened to murder and fire him, in that order. But now, here he was, giving him the inside scoop on an unlisted apartment for rent.

He walked up the steps to the entrance, nothing that here was an old style buzzer system with a button for each apartment. The nameplates were all faded, and some of the buttons were missing, but the door was open a crack, so he simply let himself inside.

"Talk to Mrs. Krokomar on ground floor -- tell her Roman send you," his boss had gruffly instructed him, when he'd thrust the paper into Cody's hands.

Glancing around, he saw only two doors in the entry, not counting the antique bronze scissor gate that led to the elevator. One was unlabeled, but the other bore a brass plate engraved with "Manager". Cody stepped up this, and knocked politely.

Scarcely had he done so when the door swung open a few inches, until it was kept from opening any further by a pair of chains and a security shackle visible through the gap. A single rheumy eye glared at him, set in a face mostly hidden in shadow.

"What you want?" the old woman rasped.

He cleared his throat. "Mrs. Krokomar? I was told to ask about an apartment for rent--"

"No vacancy!" she snapped, and slammed the door in his face.

"--Roman sent me." he finished, belatedly.

To his surprise, the door snapped open again.

"Roman send? Send you? Why he do that?" the woman asked, suspiciously.

"He, um...well, he said something about you owing him a favor?" Cody said, hesitantly.

The old woman's eye narrowed, shrewdly. "Maybe I do. But why for he spend that favor on you?"

Cody laughed, nervously. "Actually, I don't know, ma'am. Roman's my boss, but up until today, I really didn't think Roman liked me -- especially after I started dating his niece Maria."

Cody blinked in confusion, as the old woman abruptly burst out in a fit of raspy cackling. "Ha! Bastard!"

Before he could process what she meant by any of that, she slammed the door again. This time, Cody heard the sound of the chains and shackles being undone. The old woman flung open the door, revealing a surprisingly ordinary looking senior citizen Mrs. Krokomar was short and slightly stooped, and wore a faded pink tracksuit, with skin the color and texture of old leather and her steel-gray hair pulled back into a bun.

"Okay," she said, motioning him inside. "Come on in, we talk about signing lease."

"Thanks," Cody said, stepping inside. "This is a really nice building you've got here."

"Is garbage dump." she said, flatly, waddling past him into the small living room of her apartment.

Cody chuckled nervously. "I mean...I guess maybe it could use some TLC, but the architecture, and the location? This is really something!"

"Whatever you say." she said, with a dismissive wave of her hand, as she walked over to a bookshelf, and pulled out a sheaf of wrinkled papers that had been jammed between two thick volumes with Cyrillic titles on their spines. "So you want rent apartment, yes?"

He nodded, "Uh, yes ma'am."

She grunted, squinting at the papers as she leafed through him. Finally she pulled out a slightly yellowed sheet that looked like it had been made on an old typewriter. Sinking into a threadbare armchair, she slapped the paper down on the coffee table before them.

"Lease is for six months, rent is six hundred, plus another six hundred deposit." she said.

Cody's eyes widened. It was an incredible deal -- even he could afford that much. "Wow."

The old woman held up a finger. "One thing -- you, eh...what is word...superstitious?"

He frowned. "No, not really. Why?"

She shrugged. "Only vacant apartment is number 13. Some people would say is bad luck, eh...you know, cursed."

Cody chuckled. "Oh. Nah, doesn't bother me. I don't really believe in that kind of stuff."

Mrs. Krokomar smiled. "Ah, good, good. Smart boy." She reached into the pocket of her tracksuit, and produced a fountain pen. "Tell you what, you sign here, and bring money later -- I hold room for you, yes?"

Cody perked up. "Really? Just like that? I haven't even seen the room yet..."

She waved her hand. "Don't worry. Is in good shape -- best room in building, trust me. No bugs, no leaks, no nothing like that!" She tapped the lease agreement with the pen insistently. "Let's just get ball rolling, so I can take off market, eh?"

Cody hesitated. That seemed a little sketchy. But on the other hand, if it did turn out to be a dump, it'd be pretty hard for her to enforce an un-notarized document, and he didn't want to upset the old woman -- she seemed kind of eccentric. So, hesitantly, he took the pen from her, and scrawled his name on the lease document.

He jumped in alarm, as the moment he finished writing his name on the page, the lights flickered wildly. He looked around frantically for several seconds as every light in the old woman's apartment flashed like a strobe, and the scent of ozone filled the air.

"What the hell was that?" he demanded.

The old woman shrugged. "Old building, old wires. Don't worry, is fine."

(End of chapter 1, may continue if there's interest.)

I unlock the door, but as I should have known by the state of the key, the door did not open. Not only did it not open, when I tried to get my key back out of the door it snapped in the lock.

"Ha! That makes sense. Okay, I figured it wasn't going to be that great based on the price, but this is a bit bad."

I went back to my car and pulled out my screwdriver. Walking back to the door I managed to wedge the screwdriver into the lock just behind the piece of broken key.

"If I'm right, the key is technically still holding the little pins in the right place, so if I-". click The door finally unlocked. After putting my shoulder to the door it also opened.

I looked inside with a sense of pride that quickly faded. "Oh my-" I looked at the living room in horror. There were stains, rough patches, most of a couch, and a tipped over box of tangled cords and wires. I didn't dare to look in the kitchen.

I take a deep breath and nearly choke on the smell, it smelled of stale pork skins and sweaty socks, not to mention I could smell the dishes in the sink from here.

I take a deep breath...once I got back outside, then I went back in to find my room.

Two days later

I smile happily as I look upon what, admittedly, is still a trashy apartment, but it is much better. I've taken out the trash, I've cleaned the sink of it's dishes, I even spent two hours yesterday untangling the cords in that box...which thankfully means the tv works properly again.

There is however, one minor issue. Whenever I try to sleep, I hear...the others. They're always doing something around midnight, but I can never tell what they're doing. I'm aware that I have two roommates, but I haven't seen them yet.

I've never heard them leave their rooms or the apartment, I have however heard them in the kitchen late in the night. They're always whispering to each other about something. I swear I've heard my name mentioned at least twice.

The reason I know they're here though, is because my things randomly go missing. Not only that but I keep finding their dishes in the sink and my food missing from the fridge. That ends tonight.

I wait by my door, my hand sweating as I tight fist the door knob, ready to open it with dramatic substance.

I wait, and I keep waiting, and by 1:30am, I'm mad. But the anger immediately subsides as I hear it. The dishes in the dishwasher moved!

I open the door as swiftly as I can only to see the dark empty apartment hallway, the kitchen at the end of said hallway to the right. I couldn't even be mad, it was dark, there was clearly nobody there, and it's all too possible that the dishes moved on their own.

So, with equal amounts of fear of the unknown and sad that I wasted the last hour and a half standing by my door, I walked into the kitchen.

I flipped the light switch and look around the kitchen. I didn't even notice it at first, but it was so unnatural that it actually made me jump. The dishes in the sink, they were all clean and in the dryer rack. Beside the sink was a small note written on with red ink. It read, "Hey, we are aware that you've been fixing up the apartment, we decided to stop taking advantage of you."

I looked at the note for a while, the message was strange, but what bothered me more was if that was them washing the dishes, how did I miss them? I decided it was late, nothing is wrong, and judging by the note things might actually improve. Before going to bed I grabbed a pencil and wrote, "Thank you" on the note.

I had so mucht trouble sleeping that night though, waking up several times for no apparent reason, my attention always being drawn back to my closet. But by morning it all made sense as the note had more writing on it, this time it said, "You look freaking ugly when you sleep dude."

The red eyes blazed from the corner as the hell hounds approached. Their master, a terrifying demon with large horns and glowing yellow eyes bore down on the unsuspecting human.

"I am here for your soul" it hisses in a voice that shook the house.

"Ok. But hand me that monkey wrench first." Came the somewhat muffled response. The owner of the voice was shoved half under the sink, holding one grubby hand patiently awaiting the tool. Caught off guard, the demon complied.

"Uhh sure... what are you doing?" The demon watched the human wriggle and grunt, changing the pipes.

"Getting some decent water pressure. What good is a functional heat pump if we can't get any decent water pressure?" The human popped out and scrambled to its feet.

"Heat pump? You mean- hot showers?" The demon positively danced with glee.

"Yup. Pretty easy fix. My uncle was a plumber. Taught me all about this stuff." The human turned on the taps and after a minute, clear hot water poured from the spout. The succubus from the attic sat on the chair by the dining table.

"Last week she git rid of that squeaky floorboard on the third step. And the mold in the attic is gone."

The demon looked at the human who sat up on the counter and opened a beer. "With skills like yours, you could live anywhere."

"Can't beat the rent." She shrugged and took another sip. "And I've had way worse room mates in college."

I checked and double-checked my rental agreement. Apparently, if I did repairs, and could show evidence of them, as well as receipts, I could get the costs removed from my rent. And it would benefit me. And I suppose the other occupants, I hadn't met them much yet. Anyways, I'd been an on site manager before, and had picked up a lot of generally useful handyman skills. So I set to work.

I'm a morning person. I wasn't always, but working a few 6-2 shifts in IT, then leaving after the company turned to shit, kind of changed me. Thanks to said company turning to shit, my settlement means I don't have to work for several years, so I'm working on a few things before I go back to school. And a cheap place like this feels just nice. My neighbors have interesting names. Carmilla Ruthven. Fidel Sigurdsen. Heather Eurytou. Just a few. I haven't met any of them yet, they're probably night owls like I used to be. Still, after fixing the sticking buttons in the elevator, oiling several hinges, and doing small tasks around, they might be happy.

One night, I hear a voice outside my window. I look out, and see some sort of weird vision, it looks like a woman glowing at first, then I shake my head, and I just see a bat hitting the window. Odd behavior for a bat. I hope it's okay.

The next night, I hear howling. It sounds like it's coming from inside the building. I roll over and go to sleep. After living in Salem, that sound doesn't bother me any more.

I'm just about to head to bed when I hear a knock from my door. I look out the peephole and see a woman. Briefly, I get a sense of size and power, but that goes away. I open the door. "Hello?"
"Oh hi, I'm Heather, your neighbor. I was just check..." she trails off, looking at me. For a moment, her eyes glaze over, then she looks at me. "You fixed the elevator? And the hinges?" I nod. She thinks a moment, then mutters in something I think sounds like Greek. "Okay. We have a thing happening Friday night, around... 8:30pm. Think you can make it?" I nod. "Good. See you there. It's at my apartment across the way."

Friday arrives, and I show up. I'm wearing nice casual: a polo shirt, slacks. Not sure how formal this thing is, but I figure I might as well not look like a total slob. I get in, and suddenly I stop. One woman has fangs, and they don't look fake. That man has a legitimate wolf head, not a fake one. And then there's Heather... She's about ten feet tall. I see a man on fire, or made of fire, someone with dark wings... Heather looks at me. "My friends, we don't need to torment this one. If he can stand our true forms, he is welcome by my vote, as he is fixing the complex. Who else agrees?" The man with the wolf's head nods, as does the man on fire, and the thing with dark wings makes a gesture of assent. The woman with fangs sighs and nods. "Good. Now, mortal, if you can withstand this night with your sanity intact, you will find us good friends and neighbors."

Lately, my life has been good. There's no physical security like a werewolf and vampire pair. A demon and djinn are looking over my employment contracts. And I have a divine seeress who can tell me I'm even going to survive Ragnarok... Whatever the hell that is. Apparently a lot of gods are going to die. I'm not worried. As for the landlord... Well, he's on their shit list after he tried to screw me out of the value of the repairs I made. After a week, he applied it to my next month's rent, but he also seems to be more annoyed than scared. Whatever just finds these guys annoying is something to be wary of. That said... My life is better now.

Welcome to the Prompt! All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.

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>* Stories at least 100 words. Poems, 30 but include "[Poem]" >* Responses don't have to fulfill every detail >* See Reality Fiction and Simple Prompts for stricter titles >* Be civil in any feedback and follow the rules

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