Apartment J
By Gabrielle S. Faust
Originally published in Volume 3 of Darkened Horizons


Howling. A warped, demented, feline yowling had caused the floorboards and walls of Izzy’s one bedroom apartment to vibrate for the past hour, echoing down through the thin layers of decaying wood and plaster from the unit above. Ever since Ms. Adams had moved in upstairs, as soon as the clock struck midnight the hellish noise, as if dozens of cats tore at one another’s throats, would begin, the sound of their nails digging into the wood floors as they raced from one room to another maddening in its desperation. Izzy sat on the floor of her bedroom gripping the sides of her head as she stared up at the ceiling sure that she would soon begin to see cracks in the drywall. She had complained to the management team on several occasions, but to no avail. Just as with all of the repair issues in the ten-unit complex, their response was “move if you don’t like it”.


“Goddamn it,” Izzy growled, unable to take the screams a moment longer. “This has got to stop or I’m going to fucking lose it.”


She scrambled to her feet. Barefoot and muttering to herself, she stomped up the two flights of termite-ridden wood stairs to the second floor landing. Her footsteps echoed loudly off the cracked plaster walls. She wondered, as she reached the top, how the neighbor across from apartment “J” could stand the sound, but then, perhaps the girl that lived there was simply able to tune it out. Some people were highly adept at selective hearing. Izzy took a deep breath, not relishing the idea of yet another bizarre encounter with the unfriendly, spinster neighbor. There in the dull yellow glow of the hallway lamp she pounded the peeling white paint of Ms. Adam’s door with her fist. The howling suddenly died away. Izzy frowned, feeling the fine hairs on the backs of her arms bristle at the strange absence of sound. Several moments passed, but the door remained closed. Izzy pounded on it again, the blows booming in the tiny corridor.


Metal scraping upon metal screeched as the several locks up on the interior of the door were pulled away and the door opened a crack, the top chain still in place. Ms. Adams’ pinched face glared at her silently from within.


“Hello, Ms. Adams. I’m sorry to disturb you again, but you have to make those cats of yours stop.” Izzy’s voice was trembling slightly as she attempted to remain calm.


“Cats will do what cats will do.” Ms. Adams replied bluntly, her eyes unblinking as she stared up at Izzy. “They don’t listen to me.”


Izzy took a deep breath as she felt her pulse begin to race with anger. “I know, but the sound is really awful. I can’t sleep with all of the–“


The door slammed shut leaving Izzy alone again in the hall. Izzy felt the dam restraining her rage burst. With a small shriek she pounded on the door again. “Ms. Adams, you get out here right now! This is bullshit! You can’t make me live like this! If I hear one more peep out of you or your damned cats I will call the police! Do you hear me in there, you freak? I will call the police and have you and your mangy animals hauled out of this building!”


There was no reply. Izzy was shaking. She ran her hands through her long, brown hair. The sleep deprivation was starting to wear on her nerves. She stomped back down the stairwell and out the screened door. Across the courtyard the lights in Maxine’s apartment glowed welcomingly from behind heavy living room curtains. Izzy knocked on her front door.


Maxine answered, her wild curly hair frizzing out in every direction from the humidity of the summer night. “Hey. What’s up?” She answered sleepily and then, noticing Izzy’s distraught expression, added, “You okay?”


“Do you have a smoke I could bum?” Izzy asked, still feeling like she could claw her way out of her own skin.


“Yeah, hold on. I’ll come out and smoke with ya.” Maxine disappeared inside for a moment before reappearing with a pack of American Spirits and a couple of Orange Crush soda cans. She handed one to Izzy as they walked out to the rusted metal lawn furniture in the center of the muddy courtyard.


“Let me guess.” Maxine said as she settled herself into one of the chairs around a large table. “The cat lady is up to her tricks again.”


“Yes!” Izzy breathed in her seat as she lit a cigarette. “I don’t know what I’m going to do? I would hate to call animal control because you that will only make the situation worse, but it’s really creepy. I’m almost worried that she’s hurting those animals up there.”


“You think they’re in heat or something?” Maxine asked, blowing smoke out in front of her. In lingered in the still, moist air as if unsure of where to go next. “Maybe she’s breeding a certain kind. I’ve heard that cats make some strange sounds when they’re breeding.”


“Now, that’s a disturbing idea.” Izzy replied with a strangled laugh. “As if I had trouble getting to sleep before, now the image of dozens of cats fucking above my bed is going to be burned into my brain.”


“Sorry.” Maxine laughed. “I don’t know what to tell you. These places are just dumps. We really need to move.”


“I know, but I can’t afford to. At least not for a while longer.” Izzy took another drag. “It’s just a shame. Of all of the apartments in this town, I have to pick the one that’s cursed. I’ve had nothing but bad neighbors above me since I moved in. I swear it’s built directly over a portal to Hell!” She pointed to her ground floor apartment nestled in the corner of the building. Shaking her head, she stared up at the dull glow emanating from behind Ms. Adams’ curtained windows above. “I just wish I knew what exactly was going on up there.”


“We could take a look.” Maxine said.


Izzy looked at her, frowning. “What do you mean?”


Maxine pointed to the porch overhang that ran beneath second floor windows. “There’s a ladder around back. We could climb up there and peek in her windows.”


Izzy pulled a grimace. “I don’t know about that. What if someone saw us? Besides, I doubt if that roof would hold us. It’s mostly rotten.”


“Nah.” Maxine replied. “I’ve seen the maintaince guys up there before working on AC units and stuff. Hey, I bet Cooper would let us in sometime when she’s out. I’m pretty sure he’s still in charge over there at that subcontractor place the slumlords use.”


“Hmmm…” Izzy hummed softly as she thought. “You really think he’d do that? Isn’t that illegal?”


“Yeah, it is, but Cooper owes me one.” Maxine winked slyly and smiled as she took a sip of soda. “I’ll give him a call tomorrow.”


• • •


That Saturday afternoon Maxine came over to Izzy’s apartment with Cooper in tow. Lanky and tan and barely out of his teens, Cooper was the savoir of the Peach Tree Palace residents, tending to the repairs which the landlords stubbornly denied.


“Sounds quiet up there.” He remarked as they stood in Izzy’s tiny living room and glanced up at the ceiling.


“She’s gone. Left about a half hour ago.” Izzy replied, unconsciously wringing her hands. For some reason she felt ill at ease about entering Ms. Adam’s apartment without her permission.


“Guess we’d better get moving, then.” Maxine said and reached for the front door.


“How long do you think she’ll be gone?” Cooper asked as they climbed the stairs.


“She usually leaves for a couple of hours in the afternoons on the weekends. Not sure where she goes, but it seems pretty routine.” Izzy replied, watching Cooper fish through his key ring, the metal keys jangling noisily in the shafts of afternoon light that filtered in the triple paned windows to the right of the landing between the apartments.


“Well, that should give us enough time for a quick look around.” He found the key and slipped it into the top deadbolt lock. “I tell ya, I wouldn’t do this for just anyone, ya know.” He glanced over his shoulder at Maxine.


“I really appreciate it.” Izzy said, giving him a quick hug from the side as he opened the doorknob lock.


“Yeah, yeah.” He muttered as he pushed the door open.


Izzy ducked around Cooper through the open door. Inside the curtains were still drawn. The thick odor of dust and moldy fabric was stifling, the silence heavy, as if the shadows held their breath as the three entered.


“Man, and I thought I had an empty apartment.” Cooper muttered under his breath as he cautiously followed the women inside.


“Yeah, this is very strange.” Maxine said quietly.


The living room was nearly barren with the exception of one high-backed antique armchair and a low round wooden table set in the center of the spacious room. The walls, a dull gray the color of overcast skies, were bare. From where she stood, Izzy could see that the dining room was bare as well, the one window covered in the same thick black curtains as the ones that adorned the living room.


“So, where are all of these cats you’ve been hearing?” Maxine said, folding her arms over her chest and rubbing her upper arms with her hands as if to ward off a chill.


“What?” Izzy replied quietly as she stared at the strange chair studying the ornately carved wood and velvet lined seat.


“The cats? The yowling, screaming, breeding cats? Where are they?” Maxine’s voice was starting to take on the grating edge it got when her anxiety attacks were about to set in.


“I don’t know.” Izzy replied quietly. The apartment was eerily vacant. Izzy’s heart began to race a bit faster and the sudden urge to flee the building clawed at her spine until it itched, but she couldn’t leave just yet.


“I’m going to check the bedrooms.” She started for the dark, narrow hallway towards her right when she heard Maxine gasp behind her.


“Holy Moses.” Maxine hissed.


“What?” Izzy snapped, her nerves frying beneath her skin, and whirled back around to face her friend.


Maxine answered by pointing at the floor near the baseboards. “Are those claw marks?” Her eyes were saucers of pale green and black. Slowly she walked towards the wall. “What the fuck’s been up here?” The deep, rough grooves in the wood ran all the way around the room in a two-foot wide track as if something had been running frantic, terrified laps.


“Coop, has this always been like this?” She knelt down and touched the wood with trembling fingers.


“Hell, no!” Cooper squatted down next to Maxine to study the marks. “This place was just fine before she moved in. I inspected it myself.” He stood up, shaking his head, and ran his fingers through his dark hair, muttering obscenities beneath his breath, “This damage is irreparable. They’ll have to rip out the whole floor and replace it. The landlords aren’t going to be happy about this.”


Izzy’s heart began to race, dread slowly raking its razor talons down her spine. “Something’s telling me we should leave now.” She turned and started for the door.


“You okay, Izz?” Maxine asked, tearing her gaze away from the grooves in the floorboards.


Izzy paused at the doorway, her hand on the molding. “Yeah.” She replied, unconvincingly. “I think I’ve just seen enough for one day.”


• • •


That night, after Izzy returned home from running her weekend errands, she found her answering machine blinking another spiteful message from her landlord. Izzy poured herself a heavy glass of cabernet, leaving the bottle open on the blue tiled counter in the kitchen, and pressed the little plastic play button again.


Mrs. Aberdeen’s voice crackled in a bitchy, smoke-hoarse snarl from the round speaker. “Like I told you before; if you don’t like you are more than welcome to move.”


“I swear. Someone should put a hex on that woman and be done with it.” Izzy sank into the old armchair next to the front door, propping her feet up on the coffee table as she stared at the wobbling ceiling fan slowly turning above.


It was quiet upstairs at the moment, though she knew Ms. Adams was home from occasional creaking of the floorboards as she walked across the living room from time to time. A cold, sickening dread coiled tightly in Izzy’s stomach causing the wine to curdle like sour milk, yet she kept drinking.


Who are you, old woman? She thought silently as her gaze traveled over the cracks in the sagging, painted drywall. Maxine and Coop must think I’m completely insane. But I’m not, am I Ms. Adams?


Izzy felt trapped more than ever now that she had seen the disturbing, barren interior of the apartment above. Even if she called the cops once the yowling began again, and she knew that it eventually would, what would they do if they found nothing up there? Would they haul Izzy away? Could Ms. Adams press charges for harassment? Izzy was unsure of what the law could entail in such a situation and did not savor the idea of making a horribly uncomfortable situation far worse. After an hour of silent contemplation and another glass of wine she decided to give peaceful negotiation one last try.


Setting her glass on the edge of the coffee table Izzy slipped on her shoes and left her apartment. At the top of the stairs, she drew a deep breath to steady herself. The wine had tempered her anxiety somewhat, but now as she stood before the peeling white paint of Ms. Adams’ door, she began to feel her pulse race again. Chewing nervously on her bottom lip, she slowly raised her fist and rapped quietly upon the wood. A long moment passed in tense silence and she thought briefly that perhaps Ms. Adams would refuse to answer the door once she saw Izzy through the peephole. She raised her fist once more, but before she could knock again, she heard the familiar sound of chains being slid back and locks being turned.


The door opened a crack revealing darkness beyond and Ms. Adams’ pale, heavily lined face. She said nothing as she stared at Izzy.


Izzy felt her throat tighten, “Hello, Ms. Adams. I wanted to apologize for yelling the other night.”


Ms. Adams said nothing.


“I was hoping that perhaps we could sit down and talk? Maybe work something out?” Izzy’s voice came out as a squeak as her instincts screamed silently within her to run back down the stairs and barricade herself in her apartment. Her palms had begun to sweat and she folded her arms across her chest, tucking them against her sides.


Ms. Adams regarded her coolly, her eyes narrowing as she tilted her head to one side. Izzy felt as if her soul were being read silently and against her will.


“I suppose that might be possible.” Ms. Adams said quietly.
Izzy gulped painfully, releasing the breath that had become stuck in her lungs as she had waited.


“Why don’t you come in?” Ms. Adams opened the door slightly.
Izzy hesitated a moment too long. Her jaw tensed till it ached, she wished she had just let it go and taken Mrs. Aberdeen’s advice about moving. Outside in the driveway below she heard the tires of one of the other tenants’ cars leaving.


“What’s wrong?” Ms. Adams hadn’t blinked in at least a minute, her mouth, set in a hard thin line, curling at the edges in a sour facsimile of a smile. She opened the door a bit further.


Izzy shook her head, forcing a smile of her own. “N-nothing. It’s just been a very long day.” She stepped across the threshold.


Inside the room was lit only with the glow of several tall red candles set into a simple candelabra in the center of the round table. Though the hum of an AC unit was strangely absent, the temperature of the room was frigid. Izzy felt goose bumps prickle along her bare forearms as her eyes darted nervously about.
Ms. Adams passed beside her and sat down in the chair in the corner. A large leather-bound book lay upon the table in front of her. “I’m sorry I don’t have more seating.” She said quietly. “I don’t get many visitors.”


“Oh, it’s alright.” Izzy said, trying to sound nonchalant, frozen in her place near the front door. She rubbed her forearms to ward off the chill. She realized she had instinctually begun to stare at the claw marks in the wood floor and quickly returned her gaze to meet Ms. Adams’. Again, the apartment was eerily absent of the cats she had heard night after night.


Ms. Adams folded her hands in her lap and regarded Izzy coolly, “So, tell me what is bothering you?”


Izzy frowned slightly, confused. “Um, well, I wanted to talk to you about your cats… But it appears they’re gone? May I ask what happened to them?” She swore she could smell incense burning somewhere in the complex over the heavy scent of melting wax and fire and something else, something sharp and coppery and pungent that hadn’t been present earlier that day.


Ms. Adams was quiet for a moment before answering. “My dear, I fear you are mistaken. I’ve never owned cats.”


“What?” Izzy felt her anger begin to bubble up past her fear. “Yes, yes you do! You have them. You told me the other night to my face about how ‘cats will be cats’ or something like that!”


Ms. Adams slowly stood and approached Izzy, “I think you’re confusing me with someone else. Feel free to look for yourself.” She gestured to the dark hallway that led to the bedroom beyond. “This place is empty. It’s just me and my old bones rattling around this place.”


Damn it! What kind of crazy game is this witch playing with me? Izzy thought with a hiss. “Maybe I’ll do just that!” She snapped and turned away, charging down the hallway to the rooms that lay somewhere in the darkness beyond.


As she stomped down the narrow corridor, the sharp scent she had noticed moments before began to increase until she could taste it in the back of her mouth, heavy and rancid above a thicker perfume of nauseating sweetness. She shivered involuntarily. Izzy flicked the light switch to the first bedroom to her left several times, but nothing happened. Carefully, with only the light from the single parking lot florescent pouring through naked windows on the north and west walls, she quickly inspected the room. Flinging open the closet doors she fully expected to see cages and cages of crated starved animals, but nothing. Feeling frustrated tears beginning to brim in her eyes, blurring her vision, she turned and ran to the second room across the hall, the one situated directly over her own bedroom.


Izzy skidded to a halt three feet into the room. The walls were red, streaked wildly as if painted hastily with a single brush. In places Izzy was sure she could see the imprint of a palm or smeared fingers. With the exception of a low, round wood table, similar to the one in the living room that squatted in the center of the room, the room was as barren as the rest of the apartment. Upon the table burned five black candles, equidistant from one another about its edge. Izzy could feel herself trembling. Her mind raced in a terrorized panic. Oh, my god! What the hell is this place? I shouldn’t have come here. I knew I shouldn’t have come here. Why did I come back? I should have just moved.


She became aware of the fact that her back was still to the door and jumped forward into the room, whirling around to face the pitch-black hallway behind her. Down the corridor strange sounds had begun to wind, a low moaning and creaking like fierce storm winds through barren branches. Izzy glanced at her watch; midnight, the time when she had always heard the sounds begin.
She forced words from her lips, “Ms. Adams? Are you out there? Ok, I get it. Ha, ha! Game’s over. I’ll leave you alone, I promise.” Her body was shaking uncontrollably as she found herself walking backwards across the room.


The only response was the rising of the sound, the moaning writhing and warping into the maddening yowling and shrieking she had become so accustomed to, though it took on a whole new dimension without the layers of drywall to separate her from it. Her eyes darted around the room, looking frantically for some sort of escape. She grabbed hold of the knob to one of the French doors to the closet and pulled it open. Gasping, she staggered back at the atrocity she saw hanging inside. From large silver hooks hung what appeared to be the empty skins of human beings, wet husks without their skeletons, their clothes still stuck to the gore-streaked, crumpled messes of flesh. The walls and doors were stained deep red, flies and maggots writhing in a white and black carpet upon the floor below.


Izzy felt bile rise in her throat, tears streaming down her face as she screamed and staggered away, whirling back towards the door. She started to run for the doorway only to realize that something now approached, its footsteps heavy echoes of black thunder. The creaking tear of claws slowly digging through splintering wood inched closer and closer, the snarling howls becoming deafening. Izzy pressed her hands against her ears as she shook uncontrollably, watching the silhouette of the twisted demonic creature in the hallway seep up out of the shadows, backlit by the candles in the far room. She screamed as it lunged for her heart…

Tags: Apartment J, fiction, Horror, Short Stories

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