Humming a little tune, I reached my front door and fished out my keys. It was already past five, and after running and walking for nearly an hour, I finally made it home. The evening shadows pressed in around the apartment building, and my own name—Ethan Zhang—felt small against the weight of the coming night.
The pay was good, but my place was far from the office. Tonight, the ghost wasn’t lurking here, so I could finally let my guard down. I made myself a bowl of noodles—cheap comfort food—and after eating, I collapsed onto the bed, the silence pressing in from every shadow.
My coworkers were easy to get along with. After today, they all praised me for my nerves. Most of them had moved into company housing and said if I wanted to join, they’d send someone over during the day to help me move. Their kindness felt almost unreal, a fragile bubble in the darkness.
Landing a job at a place like this—with great benefits and positive colleagues—felt like a stroke of luck after everything I’d been through. Sometimes, disaster brings unexpected fortune, but I couldn't shake the feeling that something was lurking beneath the surface.
The next day, I slept in until the sun was high overhead. Strangely, the area around my apartment building was eerily quiet. Out front, a small courtyard led to the main road—normally bustling with people and traffic, but now, it felt abandoned, as if something had driven everyone away.
It was already noon when I finally got up. I opened the window, hoping for sunlight, but the sky above was heavy with clouds. Or was it? I rubbed my eyes—in the distance, the sky was clear and blue, but over my apartment building, dark clouds hung low, suffocating.
Peering down, I saw not a soul. Unease twisted in my gut. I hurried out of my room, my footsteps echoing as I rushed to Apartment 517—the landlord’s place. I was about to knock when the door creaked open. Inside, the light was pale and sickly, casting long shadows.
The room was a wreck—papers scattered everywhere, dust thick on the table, as if no one had bothered to clean for days. The air was stale, heavy with neglect and something else I couldn’t name.
Then I noticed a small room at the back, a sliver of red light bleeding through the door crack. I crept closer, calling out softly, my voice swallowed by the gloom, and pushed the door open.
The instant I saw what was inside, I bolted out in panic. It was a funeral shrine—a portrait of a teenage girl, long hair framing her round face, her lips curled in a faint, unsettling smile. Incense smoke curled in the dimness, thick with grief and something unspoken.
Suddenly, the girl's smile in the portrait twisted into a furious scowl. I yelped, stumbling backward, heart pounding. When I dared to look again, she was smiling gently, just as before—almost as if nothing had changed.
Bang! Instantly, with a sharp swish, the door and windows slammed shut and locked, trapping me inside. The sound echoed, cold and final.
"What the hell are you doing? Is this you, John Chou... John Chou?" I shouted, trying to sound braver than I felt.
It had to be that ghost playing tricks on me. Fear prickled at first, but now, anger took its place. The oppressive air made my skin crawl, yet I refused to let it show.
"Enough with the haunting, John Chou. Is this supposed to be funny? And why is the apartment building deserted? Did you do something?"
I fired off questions as I moved back to the living room. The windows and doors were sealed tight. I twisted the doorknob—nothing. I sat down, darkness pressing in, and tried the lights. They wouldn’t turn on either, leaving me stranded in the gloom.
A faint, scratching sound—like nails raking across plaster—came from the shrine room. I glanced over, unease crawling up my spine, every hair standing on end.
"Cut it out, John Chou. I’ve seen ghosts before, so just open the damn door." My voice was steady, but my nerves were shot.
My stomach growled, and the more I thought about it, the angrier I got. John Chou always liked to jerk me around—the more I gave in, the bolder he became.
"Listen, John Chou, you’re not going to scare me. I’m Ethan Zhang. I used to be timid, but I’ve died a few times now—believe me, that changes a person."