Welcome to Scary Story Podcast. A man gets a great deal on an apartment
and moves in, but everything has a price. Soon enough, he discovers
what he's paying for. My name is Edwin, and here's a scary story.
The bright screen on my phone set three a M on the dot,
two notifications, and my eyes could not read just yet. They were still
stinging from the glow and shock of waking up. So suddenly I rolled out
of bed and over to face the large window that led to the balcony of
the building. My feet hit the top of the shoes as I took those
five steps and moved the curtain to its side. Dead silence. No lights
were coming from any of the windows I could see, and the only thing
that drew my attention was the lonely street lamp below me, flickering against the
fog from that night. Nothing else was moving. Prior to moving there,
I downloaded a bunch of movies and videos from YouTube and stayed laid into the
night, parked outside. I was used to moving around, but never for
a lease this long, a whole year this time. Those around me would
say that I was exaggerating a bit, but after hearing enough apartment hunting stories.
I prepared as much as possible that was parked right there by that street
lamp, hearing for any noises of the flickers and that orange glow above the
roof of my car. There was something hypnotic about it, and even though
it was random, after being there for five or six hours, kind of
start to find a pattern to things that don't deserve it. I imagine the
plays buzzing with people walking up and down those sidewalks. Faces, things you
normally don't see and recognize when you're daydreaming were clear. Children and their Sunday
best and all the men were in suits. The older people were the most
confident, while the young ones looked confused. I rubbed my eyes and focused
back on the movie, a French one, so I had to backtrack a
couple of minutes because I was watching it with captions on as I tried to
ignore the flickering light above me. I left about thirty minutes before sunrise before
making plans to come back on Saturday, although that never came. The street
was quiet, the building was still. It would be a great quiet place
to live for those twelve months, and it was for the first day that
second night, I had turned off my television and PS four on the other
room. The TV was still on the floor, but I left it and
got into bed by about ten at night, which was way too early for
me. But there was something about me that changed then. I was suddenly
feeling more responsible or tired earlier. Maybe it was the place, Perhaps it
was moving all that furniture or cleaning, And so I looked at the ceiling
fan as it slowed down and blended with the darkness of the paint that spread
from beneath my eyelids, and soon I was out. When it was sometime
in the middle of the night that I heard it, the siren, like
an old warning alarm, blaring at me from all directions. I don't know
how long it did that for, but as soon as they shook my head
awake and was conscious enough to look round the room, the sound was only
echoing and fading. I stayed there, staring at the ceiling, expecting that
sound to come back at any moment. When for I knew it, the
sunlight was coming through the thin curtains. They were finally hitting my eyes and
woke me up. It was in the shower when I remembered the strange sounds
from the night before. The squeak of the knob to turn the hot water
on brought me back for an instant, but like with most things, I
forgot about it again once I got in the car and had to put the
maps app to get me to work. The area of town was New Wish
according to some of my co workers, and I barely knew how to get
out of there. Apartments and lots for businesses were selling for cheap after being
on the market for several months. There was nobody on the street until I
got to the highway. When I got back, I got to see one
of the neighbors in the building from somewhere in the second floor. He looked
at me with a confused expression in his eyes before nervously approaching me. He
introduced himself as Pablo, but quickly cut me off when it was my turn
to say my name and my part of the small talk. Have you noticed
anything about this place, he asked, eagerly waiting for my response, yet
he spoke right before I did. He gets weirdly quiet around here, doesn't
it a little? I told him, before explaining to him that I liked
quiet and that yes, there was something weird about the neighborhood in general.
Very few lights were on from the windows in the other buildings, almost no
cars or people in the morning. I could tell he was opening his mouth
to interrupt me again, so I stopped mid sentenced to let him speak.
Have you seen the children? Now? I'm not one for ghost stories,
especially when it was literally my first month out of twelve in this place and
that was slowly turning into a horror silent film movie with this guy in front
of me. The building looked new, the water pressure was fine, and
the internet was blazing fast. What else could I ask for? This guy
was about to ruin it. I've been here for several months already, and
let me tell you, this place is haunted. I did some research.
I waited for him to continue, but he was pausing for questions or something.
I took the opportunity to say that I needed to go, and he
stopped me. You're gonna tell me you're the only person in the building that's
sleep well, he joked nervously. Well yeah, except for the siren,
I shot back. The siren he looked me right in the eyes. The
alarm, the sound at night. I said, I took a deep breath.
It woke me up. Relieved. His face relaxed once again as he
forced out a semi smile. Disappointed in my answer, he told me that
there was about a dozen or so resident in the building at the time.
Most would not stay for longer than a couple of months, so that's why
the owner made twelve month leases at a good price, but that the ones
that had stayed, all of them, every single one, had experienced something
in the building, but with no apparent connection, and this guy, Pablo,
was going to be the one to solve everything. He mentioned the couple
on the third floor that had gotten someone knocking at their door at around midnight,
would happen often, and he had bothered them so much that they requested
to have security cameras installed in the hallways, much to the other residents discontent,
privacy and all that. They were able to install a camera on their
door, but they got in in argument with other people over it. I
really didn't want to hear about these things that roamed around the building. Honestly,
had not gotten much sleep the night before, and I still hadn't gone
shopping, so I had a Carl's Junior burger going cold in my backpack.
As this guy kept talking, he told me about the janitor, a man
that has been spotted roaming around the halls holding a broom, one who,
upon reaching the end of the hallway, would simply vanish. But Pobo's experiences
in the building were something else entirely. What he had seen actually made me
feel sorry for him, and also made me understand his obsession with getting to
the bottom of it. His father had died recently, and while on his
deathbed, he claimed to see two spirits that were coming to get him.
They were like creatures that crawled along the walls and quickly scurried along the floor
and under the bed. At first, Pablo thought that it was just his
father losing his mind as he described it, until he saw them himself.
He was up early in the morning before sunrise, sorting out the pills he
would give his father every morning, when out of the corner of his eye,
he watched a dark figure completely black, make its way toward the room
where his father was staying. Terrified, he dropped as he was holding and
it was a sound of bottles that snapped them out of his frozen state.
He ran tover the room and watch as the things crawled out the window.
His father's eyes were wide open and staring at the ceiling. A few days
after that, his father passed and he has yet to see those figures again.
Still, he said, now I believe in that there's something here.
He was about to tell me about the history of the plays proof He said
that the grounds were haunted, but I finally interrupted him as I pointed to
my phone and said that I needed to make a quick call, but that
I would see him around Apartment two twenty six, he shouted as I walked
away. That's where I am. See you have a good one. I
walked up the stairs to my floor and walked to my unit. Once inside,
I locked the door and leaned against it, worried about what I had
gotten myself into. I didn't want to believe in ghost I didn't, especially
not from a place that I just moved into. It was practically brand new.
But I thought of Pablo from the second floor and chuckled, thinking that
the types of neighbors that I would have to deal with from now on.
But it was getting to me. I could imagine those things he talked about,
and if I stayed real quiet. I could almost hear the faint footsteps
coming directly from my room. It's just my imagination, I said to myself,
as I opened up my backpack and took out the greasy bag to place
on the tiny table in the living room. Part two of Dead of Night
just coming up. Right after this stay with me, I fell asleep at
around ten at night, exhausted from everything. There was a never ending amount
of things to move around in the living room, and I had to set
up my computer. Still everything was a mess. I fell asleep with my
phone in my hand, the moon barely visible through the curtains directly in front
of the bed. Next thing, I remember that alarm was blaring again,
like a siren, cranking at Max's volume from inside the apartment. I did
my best to open my eyes. I remember shaking my head back and forth,
unable to get my eyes to unstick, until somehow my arm was freed
and I was able to rub my face the sound stopped. I stood up
a little bit faster this time and ran to the window, expecting to see
other lights on from people being woken up by this loud thing in the middle
of the night, but no. I grabbed my phone at four percent battery
now, as it displayed in big white numbers, three two am. Everyone
else, the whole neighborhood must sleep like a rock. I stayed by the
window for several minutes, waiting for the sound to come back. There was
a certain tension in the air that told me that it would, and yet
it was only the deafening silence that made me feel the most uncomfortable. The
sound of my socks against the tile floor as I walked back to my bed
were the last things I heard that night. My morning went just like the
one before. I was tired, barely awake as I had some instant coffee
and got in the car, driving through that empty neighborhood. No cars on
driveways, no one walking around the park with the freshly painted fences and playgrounds.
Once I got back to the apartment building, I once again bumped into
Pablo. He was standing by the front of the building a cigarette in his
left hand. He put it out on the ash tray on top of the
trash can by the door as he waved at me and walked over. I
didn't get to tell you yesterday, he said, skipping all the helloes I
was on the paper he took out his phone and handed it to me.
On the browser, there was an article from the Harding Times, the local
newspaper, about an investigation of the complaints from the resident in the area,
but the hauntings. I ignored what he was saying as I read through the
article. An interesting account from a local, missus Dors, who claimed to
have seen a group of people in her living room on the first floor of
a nearby building, all of them wearing black as if mourning the death of
someone, and she saw them when she went into her living room. She
made eye contact with one of them, and suddenly all of them turned to
look at her. In shock. She ran back to her room and called
her husband, who had already gone to work. He demanded that she called
the police right away, which she did, but upon arriving her apartment was
perfectly empty. It all happened in a matter of minutes. She claimed they
were all gone. The second feature of the story was Pablo Gianis then the
story of his father. There had been so much more detail that he skipped
over. When he told me there were sounds in the apartment, the sobbing
in the middle of the night, He of course thought it was his father,
until he started checking in on him when he heard the noises, only
to find him sound asleep. When did you get here, he asked me,
as I was near the end of the article two nights ago. I
responded, waiting for him to explain to me why he had asked me such
a question. We still have time, he said. He told me that
residents in the area were subject to a local law that would let you move
away from your apartment within five days. That's if you change your mind.
The original proposal, before it became a law, had been for a month,
but the building owners teamed up and were able to squeeze their way out
of it, reducing it to only five days. I had never heard of
such a law anywhere, basically being allowed to break your contract within five days
of signing, just like that, no questions asked, Pablo said, looking
at me dead in the eye. It's because of the circumstances, He explained,
Who are we to say what exists and what doesn't. I was very
confused thanks to this guy, and I think he had just figured it out
without asking. He started explaining what had happened with a Kimberly Stone memorial cemetery.
How it had been one of the largest in the state and had been
recently relocated to the area beyond the park. Every tombstone neatly organized in a
grid over there, completely different than what it had been, which was only
a scattered yard with crooked tombstones and memorials. That's where all this is built,
he said, extending his arms and looking around. He chuckled as he
looked down at his shoes and kicked away the leaf right in front of him.
But I don't think they moved everyone. He both stayed quiet for a
bit until he broke the silence again, telling me to go check my contract,
that the clause had to be in there as required by the county,
a special order only for this area, that I still had time. I
don't know if it was my mind playing tricks on me now, but I
kept thinking of the night I stayed in my car nearby, analyzing the noise
situation that had been no alarm, but I had imagine crowds of people roaming
the street. I'd blamed it on my tired brain. But what if there
was some truth to all of this? I would be stuck living in a
haunted building, A haunted neighborhood for a full year. Of course, I
also thought that it all could have been a trick to get me to leave.
I hadn't seen anyone else besides Pablo in the building or in the whole
street. Even well, you still have a couple of days, Papo said.
I simply nodded. The price was good for what I was getting,
especially during these times. I had to get ear plugs to sleep through the
alarm in the middle of the night, so be it. I had just
at my backpack and turned toward the front door, saying bye to Pablo while
making my way inside and up to my floor. The same thing happened that
third night in the apartment, with that blaring siren that stopped that just as
I opened my eyes. This time, I ran faster toward the window,
but there was nothing even as I opened it, only the soft sound of
the wind against the trees of the park across the street, the lone street
lamp struggling to keep itself on. I stayed up for a while that night.
I had to make a choice was it going to stay? And mornings
at work were terrible, and not just because I couldn't get sleep, but
because of the constant feeling of being watched around the apartment. Those ghost stories
were becoming real, at least in my mind. But I made a plan.
That next day, a Saturday, I knocked on Unit two twenty six
to talk to Pablo. I wanted all of the details, the stories,
and everything that he knew. He of course, was delighted to talk to
me about it, telling me that he had been there for about eight months,
with only one other resident that had stayed longer than him. They had
gotten there right when the development was finished, about a year and a half.
He told me the stories of the people on my same floor, the
ones who had started moving right in the middle of the night, upon seeing
their daughter being dragged up and toward the railing of their balcony. They freaked
out and called the police, and everyone came, the fire department, the
ambulance, and behind everyone some family members to help with the move. They
were out by sunrise. He then mentioned the story of the woman in the
paper, Missus Dorres, about the people in her living room. He told
me that he knew her and that there was lots more to that story that
she was afraid to share it with the reporters. Because the story was too
out there even for him. People crowds could be seen roaming the streets,
sometimes believed to be the lost souls of kimberly Stone Memorial Cemetery had been a
greedy move from the city to approve its relocation. I thought of my first
night outside in the car, the confused people walking aimlessly at night to the
regular rhythm of that street lamp. I was a little relieved to know that
Missus Torres was another person who had also witnessed the same thing. We were
out there in the hallway when we heard footsteps approaching. Finally I get to
see another one of the residents of the building, but they never turned the
corner. Silence took over. Pablo raised his eyebrows as he looked at me
as if saying that, yeah, it was nobody. Do you believe me
now? Back in my apartment, I walked organizing a few things, stubting
if it was all a waste of time, if I was going to move
out. But then I would stop and then tell myself to continue that these
stories were just stories, and that's it. I said, by the kitchen
sink, looking at the garbage bag that I had forgotten to bring down earlier
in the day, but now it was late. We'll just wait until morning.
At night, I set an alarm to vibrate a little before three in
the morning, I would be awake and ready to hear where that blaring siren
was coming from. And a little later than usual, I would say,
around midnight. I managed to fall asleep. The phone was louder than I
thought it would be against the nightstand, but I had done it. Two
fifty five am and I was awake. I looked up and around the room.
It was darker than usual, but there was a soft orange glow coming
from the street lamp below, filling up part of the wall and ceiling.
Two fifty eight am. I sat up on the bed, ready to jump
out if I needed to, but all I could hear was my heart beating.
That street lamp was still flickering. Two fifty nine am. Everything was
perfectly still. A scream. I looked to the corner of the room to
see an old woman standing in her eyes and mouth wide open, her hands
against the sight of her face. I rolled out of bed on the side
closer to the door, and bolted to the living room. I grabbed my
keys, and ran out to the hallway, realizing that I had rekinded my
phone and wallet, and yet I kept going all the way down to the
garage and to the car. I pulled out of the gate, driving past
these people spirits roaming aimlessly on the street. I got to the highway and
drove to the truck stop just a couple of miles away, and waited for
sunrise. I moved out that same morning. Scary Story podcast is written and
produced by me Edwin Kovarubias. You can find me over on TikTok and Instagram
at ed That's E d W I n c o V. That's where I'll
be replying to your comments and sharing more creepy things with you. Add Free
episodes are on scary plus dot com or on the link that's on your app
right now. I have other podcast shows too, available for free if you
search for scary Fm. Check them out and let me know what you think.
Thank you very much for listening. Keep it scary everyone, See you soon.