Ghosts In The House

Chapter 1

I am a horror novelist.

Not long ago, my new release brought in a nice chunk of change.

However, I haven't written the ending for this story yet.

To be honest, writing the conclusion of a horror story is really challenging.

My new work is called "The Ghost in the Building."

"Xander, do you believe in the existence of building ghosts?" asked Yolanda, the reporter visiting me today.

I took a sip of beer and fell silent.

"I do."

"Knock, knock, knock-"

There was a knock at the door.

I rubbed my eyes, having just woken up.

Lazily, I went to open the door.

"Hello, Xander. I'm Yolanda, a reporter."

I looked up.

Wow, a beauty.

She looked just like the kind of beautiful character I love to create in my horror novels.

Long hair, dressed in white, with a fragile beauty.

Noticing my gaze, Yolanda seemed a bit shy.

"Coming for an interview this late?" I scratched my head.

She looked a bit embarrassed and said, "Actually, another senior colleague was supposed to come during the day."

"But it seems you weren't home?"

I coughed, feeling a bit awkward.

I wasn't out; I was sleeping.

Writing horror novels, I often stay up all night for inspiration.

I spend most of the day catching up on sleep.

Yolanda looked young and inexperienced, like she hasn't been jaded by the world yet.

"You're new, right?" I invited her in.

Yolanda smiled shyly. "Yes, sorry to bother you at this hour, Xander. Everyone else was off, so they sent me."

I got the picture. She was indeed a newbie.

No wonder they sent her for a late-night interview.

A young girl coming to such an old apartment.

It's a recipe for trouble.

I took two cans of cold beer from the fridge.

"Don't come again next time."

"Huh?" She seemed puzzled.

I handed her a can.

"It's not very safe here, especially at this hour," I explained.

Yolanda politely declined the beer and sat properly at the dining table.

"It's quite safe now," she said softly.

I didn't say anything.

Young women these days often believe too much in the inherent goodness of society.

I took a quick look at the sofa.

It was covered with my old underwear, definitely not a place to sit.

I took out some leftover snacks from the fridge and sat across from Yolanda.

I began to enjoy my snack leisurely.

Summer really calls for snacks and beer.

"Xander, do you believe in building ghosts?" Yolanda asked, suddenly leaning closer.

I felt a bit tense. She was too close.

After all, I was still a man with some pride.

I took a sip of beer.

After a moment of silence, I said, "I do."

"Is this one of the questions from your editor?" I laughed.

Yolanda shook her head.

"No."

"This is something I'm personally interested in."

She pointed to the book on my sofa.

"I'm actually a fan of yours, Xander."

"I've read this novel many, many times."

I turned to look.

After a moment of surprise, I praised her, "You have a keen eye."

Yolanda smiled. "Do I?"

"Yes, the book was covered by so many clothes, yet you still noticed it."

Ugh, the snacks have gone a bit stale.

It had only been a day.

Yolanda picked up a snack and sniffed it.

"It smells good."

Thinking she was about to eat it, I quickly said, "The ones underneath are a bit spoiled. Don't eat them."

Yolanda shook her head. "I envy you for being able to eat, even if it's spoiled."

I chuckled and pointed at her figure.

"You're not even chubby."

"No need to watch your weight."

Yolanda stared at me intently. "I'm not dieting."

"But wouldn't it be nice if someone brought you fresh snacks right now?"

"No way that's happening," I said, sipping my beer.

Yolanda said, "Maybe your neighbor will bring you some."

I waved my hand dismissively.

"Impossible. I'm not close with them."

"And at this hour, who would bring me snacks..."

Before I could finish, there was a knock at the door.

"Who is it?"

Chapter 2

"Is that you, Theresa?"

The door was one of those old apartment doors, made entirely of wood and offering no soundproofing at all. Even though Theresa's voice was low, I could hear her clearly.

Yolanda teased, "Who says you don't get along with your neighbors? Theresa is visiting you this late at night."

I hesitated, "Maybe we were too loud and disturbed her."

From what I knew, Theresa wasn't someone to mess with. She lived downstairs with her grandson. I lived on the fifth floor, and she lived on the fourth. The soundproofing in the entire building was terrible. Theresa often came up to scold us for disturbing her precious grandson.

"Can you people keep it down? You're disturbing my grandson's sleep!"

"If you keep making noise, I'll make a mess at your door!"

I often heard her shouting such things. I didn't open the door immediately but looked through the peephole with some caution. I was afraid she might actually throw something unpleasant.

Theresa was indeed holding a basin, but it wasn't filled with anything harmful. It was filled with edamame.

"Speak of the devil," I muttered in confusion. Although she didn't seem to have any ill intentions, I still didn't want to get tangled up with this old lady. She spoke up:

"Jorge is sick, Louise."

"Please try to keep it down."

"It was my fault before. I know you like beer, so I brought you some edamame."

Only then did I open the door. The sight of Theresa's gray, pallid face startled me. I couldn't help but say:

"Auntie, you should see a doctor."

"You look like you haven't slept in days."

Theresa handed me the basin. "Eat, it's fresh." Then she chuckled, "Maybe I haven't slept well these past few days taking care of Jorge."

I took the basin from her, somewhat reluctantly. The edamame did look fresh. Just as I was about to thank her, Theresa had already disappeared. I muttered to myself, she sure moves quickly for her age. I turned and closed the door.

Theresa had been coming to my door frequently, rummaging through the trash bags I left outside for cans. She often left a mess at my door. She probably collects the cans for recycling money. So, eating a plate of her edamame seemed fair.

Yolanda had somehow appeared behind me. She spoke up, "This plate of edamame..."

I swallowed nervously, "What about it?"

Could there be something wrong with the edamame? I knew Theresa could be spiteful; she might have done something to it. Yolanda suddenly picked up a piece and put it in her mouth.

"Ah... it's delicious."

I didn't have time to stop her. The young girl's soft sigh made my heart race. I suppressed my feelings and said seriously:

"Don't eat the edamame."

"I had a bit of a conflict with Theresa."

"She might have done something to it."

Yolanda picked up another piece and put it in my mouth. Her fingers were as cold as the edamame. I barely chewed before swallowing it instinctively.

"You..." I felt a bit embarrassed. A man in his thirties, so easily charmed by a young girl.

Yolanda, unconcerned, continued eating one piece after another, praising, "It tastes really good."

"Why would she do anything to it?"

I briefly explained Theresa's bad behavior and mentioned our argument.

"That day, I was so angry that I threw an entire bag of trash at her door."

"It caused quite a mess."

"Theresa yelled at my door for a long time, but at least she quieted down a bit."

Yolanda's round, black eyes turned as she asked me:

"Xander, you don't have surveillance at your door, and your life is turned upside down day and night."

"How do you know it was Theresa?"

"It could have been another resident in the building."

I was eating the edamame and replied naturally, "No, it was definitely Theresa."

"The neighbors told me and even showed me pictures."

Chapter 3

"Neighbor?"

"Xander, you have neighbors?"

"I thought you lived alone on this floor," Yolanda chuckled.

"You seem to have a good relationship with them."

My face stiffened.

"Didn't you come to ask about my new book?" I said, my tone unfriendly.

"Let's stick to that topic. I need to rest soon."

Yolanda apologized, "I'm sorry, Xander, for taking up your personal time."

"As a fan, I'm just really curious about your private life."

My expression softened a bit.

"It's okay. I'm not close with them."

"Don't pry into other matters either."

Yolanda's next question made my face darken further.

"Xander, where did you get the inspiration for the ghost in the building?"

The edamame I had just picked up fell to the floor.

"I..."

Yolanda looked a bit embarrassed and handed me a beer.

"Sorry, Xander, is that something you can't talk about?"

I didn't drink the beer but put it down.

"No."

"What?" Yolanda asked.

"It's not a secret."

"Actually, someone died in this building," I said cryptically.

Yolanda covered her mouth tightly.

"Oh my!"

"And you still dare to live here?"

I smiled, "Don't worry, the killer has been caught."

"And as horror novelists, don't we need to find inspiration?"

Yolanda glanced around and asked,

"Why not move to a better place?"

Her voice suddenly took on a chilling tone,

"This old apartment... the soundproofing is terrible."

I poured her a glass of lemon water.

"Have some of this. It's too late for tea."

Yolanda just sniffed it, "It smells so good. Xander, please continue."

I sighed and began to recall.

"Actually, I didn't live here at first."

"There was a murder here some time ago."

"It happened right in this hallway."

"After it was over, I moved in."

I touched the cheap table.

"Don't let the rundown appearance fool you; this place has a lot of stories."

"The deceased used to live here."

Yolanda grinned.

"Xander, is this the inspiration you wanted?"

"Congratulations, you got what you wished for."

She added,

"This place really brings you luck, Xander."

I touched the new talisman on my wrist.

Smiling, I said, "Indeed."

"Once I finish the ending of my new book, I'll move out of here."

Yolanda's face turned somber as she asked,

"Move out?"

"You're leaving here?"

I didn't notice her expression, too focused on finding the fallen edamame.

If it got stepped on, cleaning it up would be a hassle.

"Xander, you haven't told me, what happened in that murder case?"

At some point, Yolanda had sat down again, her back to me.

She was sitting in my usual spot.

I had no choice but to sit beside her.

She was eating the edamame one by one.

It seemed Theresa's edamame were quite to her liking.

"Aren't you scared, listening to this so late at night?" I asked.

Recalling it myself gave me chills.

Yolanda suddenly leaned in and wrapped her arm around mine.

I felt a soft touch.

My heart fluttered.

"Scared, but I still want to hear it," Yolanda said, her head lowered.

I licked my lips and continued,

"That girl was first... then killed by a beast."

I could feel Yolanda's body start to tremble.

I naturally held her close.

"Don't be afraid, that beast is already behind bars," I said softly.

Yolanda continued to ask,

"Then why is it called the ghost in the building?"

"She died in the hallway. I heard she was an orphan, and no one came to claim her body," I said.

In the end, I paid for her cremation and burial.

After all, I was going to live here after her.

I continued,

"There are still bloodstains in the hallway that no one has cleaned up."

"Later, Theresa was afraid it would scare her grandson, so she found a piece of white cloth to cover it."

Just talking about it gives me goosebumps.

"Honestly, that white cloth is worse than nothing."

"Every time I walk by, it feels like someone is lying there."

"I just close my eyes and walk past quickly, pretending it's not real."

A chill ran through my chest.