My new apartment came with a rule
The landlord gave me one strange
instruction:
“If you hear knocking from inside the
walls after midnight, don’t answer.” I
laughed until 12:43 AM
on my first night, when three
deliberate taps echoed through my
bedroom wall. A trembling voice
whispered, “Please tell him I’m still
here.”
Time froze. I held my breath. Then the
knocks came again knock. Knock.
Knock. I grabbed my phone, switched
on the flashlight, and pressed it
against the plaster. Nothing but a
blank white surface stared back. I
told myself it was just the old pipes
settling.
“He knows you can hear me,” the
voice hissed.
Heart pounding, I bolted downstairs.
The landlord stood in the dim hallway
as if waiting for me. When I
stammered out what I’d heard, his
face went pale.
“You answered her?” he demanded.
“No,” I gasped.
He exhaled sharply. “Good. Whatever
you do, don’t knock back.” I asked
who she was, but he only slid my
security deposit across the counter.
“Leave now,” he said, his urgency
more frightening than the voice itself.
Back in my apartment, I packed
feverishly. Then I noticed four words
scratched into the plaster beside my
bed: She didn’t live here. My blood
ran cold. Before I could react, a new
series of knocks began this time from
inside my closet.