My Neighbours Friend Tried Something New I’m still trying…
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My Neighbours Friend Tried Something New
I’m still trying to come down from what happened, figured this would be the best place to come try to place all the pieces so to speak, collect my thoughts and maybe try to make sense of it all. Never thought I’d find myself in this kind of situation, and I’ll be honest I’d prefer there be no next time but, next time, I'll be smarter. I HAVE to be.
It was last week's Thursday, upon writing this at least. It was after work and I was headed home on the bus. Fatigued relief is definitely the most accurate phrase I could use for myself as I stepped off that crowded bus, the dilapidated little apartment complex before me never looked so delightful. Hell, with how exhausted my bones were right there and then, even the mercifully small steps I always tripped over in the mornings looked downright inviting like a red carpet beckoning me my sofa. As the bus drove away, dust and fumes trailing behind it, I held a hand over my mouth in practiced experience and walked to the door, taking care to hop over the top step that looked like someone had kicked the shit out of it. Witnesses be damned if I looked silly, I wasn’t ending up face down on the floor for the second time that day. A jangle of keys later, a few hard pushes on the old block of decrepit wood the landlord called a door and I was in, aching muscles and all. After a brief check of my letters in the communal letter boxes (to those interested it consisted of an exciting bill, a thrilling couple of fliers for some new food places and an exhilarating notice of road works by the local council) I made the journey up to the first floor, the automatic light for the stairs making an audible “click” as it sensed me, and I fiddled with my keys again. Somewhere in the building I heard a door slam, then presumably from the same flat the sounds of a heated argument. I sighed as I unlocked my door and pushed it closed behind me. This wasn’t exactly abnormal for some of my neighbours, though I always figured the guy above me for a chill dude and I was fairly certain that’s where the sounds were coming from.
Then I realised, while I had been distracted by the noise upstairs, I hadn't heard the tell-tale clunk of the door shutting behind me. I turned to look at it, my eyebrow raised in confusion as I examined the automatic locking mechanism, an archaic collection of levers, gears and a sad looking popped out spring. Once you unlock the door and enter the place it's meant to automatically lock behind you, but right there it looked like some sort of busted Victorian era toy. I gave the spring a twiddle, concluding, like some sort of truly experienced investigator, that this was the prime issue as I slammed the door hard, forcing it into place. It certainly shut then but wouldn’t lock no matter how much I tried. I sighed, knowing full well this meant another call to the landlord, one who would much rather give a peppy, "I'll get right to that sir!” statement as opposed to actually getting the job done. Deciding I'd deal with all that the next day and just let nature take its course with my unlocked door I walked to the kitchen, grabbed myself a bottle of something relaxing and bubbly and made my way to my living room. I figured the downstairs door kept out enough would-be intruders anyway, going a time without a locked flat door wouldn't be the death of me, maybe famous last thoughts but I was way too tired to care at the time. As I write this I can assure you I’m regretting that indifferent decision now.
I groaned in pleasure as I sat myself down on my couch and kicked off my shoes, putting my feet up and assuming the position of temporarily most comfortable man in the world, I even gave a little cackle of delight as I did. I flicked the TV on and enjoyed my drink, feeling content in that moment, like all was right in the world and the ache in my joints was well earned even if the pay in a day's time might not feel like it. A crash sounded from upstairs jolting me out of my slumped position as I stared at the ceiling for a moment, alert and listening. A moment passed, then another another, and then just silence. Worry creased my forehead and my hand instinctively went into my pocket and started towards my phone, seconds before the muffled voice of my neighbour echoed from above. “-lumsy high bastard, be more careful next time, that was a gift!” I relaxed a little, my hand coming back out of my pocket and resting back on my belly. A violent argument was one thing but an accident was hardly going to be of interest to the police, besides, I wasn’t about to ruin my evening just because someone couldn't watch their feet, like I was one to judge. I settled back down again, sipping my drink and watching TV but taking no real interest in what was on, just enjoying the feeling of not using my legs or getting ordered around. Relaxed, sleepy, content.
It was then that I woke up not knowing what day it was nor where I was, you know the kind, the type of nap you never meant to take that leaves you questioning reality, all slick with sweat and tangled limbs. I remember snorting a little as I went on full alert, because I hadn’t just woken up gently from a random nap, I’d heard what sounded like a scream. I couldn’t separate dream from reality, half asleep as I was, all I could do in the moment was slow my breathing a little, listen and grow accustomed to the waking world. It was dark now, I hadn’t even realised I’d fallen asleep. The tv, now dormant, would have turned itself off automatically after a few hours, so I figured it must have been fairly late. I clumsily took my phone out of my pocket and stared blearily as it flash-banged the time at my face. Two forty five in the morning, I’d been out for one hell of a while. Even worse, I realised with grumbling annoyance that I’d spilled my drink all down my shirt. I picked up the bottle and sat up, annoyed and grumbling but still half listening out for any noises. I remember thinking “Was it a dream?” over and over, I couldn’t remember what I was even dreaming about anyway, I just knew for certain that my shirt was soggy and my sleep was going to be wrecked after this. Bones creaked as I slowly stood up, and as I did so; a scream, a real one for certain this time, loud and pained tore through the building. I froze, suddenly no longer caring about my dripping shirt. I stayed standing for a heartbeat, two, three, four… my fingers lingering on the empty bottle in one hand and my phone in the other, too paralysed by shock to move.
Then, I heard it. “click”. The communal light came on, and a bolt of lightning shot up my spine as I realised two things at once. Firstly, someone was now in the stairwell, and secondly, most importantly - my door was unlocked. I tripped over myself and stumbled into the hallway racing for the door, needing to get to it before whatever was going on reached me. I hit the door with my shoulder and stood there, my weight against it, breathing heavy and listening to the other side. Now I know what I know, I figure I must have attracted him with the noise of my panic because pretty much instantly I heard the scraping of footsteps along the cold stone floor of the stairwell rapidly closing in, footfalls growing louder, and louder and louder until -. Nothing. The footsteps stopped just near my door and then not a sound, not a breath, just the quiet of the outside world nearby. The lights clicked off after sensing no movement for a full minute and I just listened, breathing slowly, trying desperately to hear anything. Suddenly gaining sense I held up my phone, weight still against the door and dialled 999. After going through the back and forth one expects from a police line, I gave them my address, the situation and they promised to send someone ASAP, I just needed to stay on the line and keep calm, don't act rash, don't panic, keep doing as I was.
Now, I don’t claim to be a smart man by any means, and I’ll admit, in combination of figuring the call would have spooked anyone nearby away, and after hearing nothing from outside my door for a short time (I realise the lack of the light making a click should have been a tip off now), AND with my brain still trying desperately to wake up, I decided to do something intensely stupid. I wish I had just shut up, stayed put and not done anything, maybe I wouldn’t have seen him and I wouldn’t have a new spate of nightmares centred around the guy, the police would have done their job and I could have just gone back to sleep. I carefully, as softly as I could, took my weight off the door and opened it, inch by inch until it was open wide enough to lean my head and shoulder through. I carefully leaned out part of the way, not too much, not enough to trigger the light. I looked to my right, down the stairwell and saw nothing in the dim gloom of the early morning darkness, I turned my head to the left, and just about shit myself.
The lights clicked on as either myself, in my panic, moved too fast, or the very nude man standing not even a meter away against the wall, seething from clenched jaws, eyes dilated to almost comical proportions, a large and very obviously recently used knife clenched in his right hand, moved enough to finally trigger them. Either way I was back inside my flat in an instant with my weight against the door, the second I did so the man began slamming himself like a lunatic against the hardwood, banging with his entire body again and again. I heard splintering crunches as part of the frame gave way and I struggled to keep the door fully shut, every time the man slammed into it the door shuddered and pushed open slightly, again and again until my strength began to fade and the door opened wider with each violent shove. I needed to do something, right then and there or that mad bastard was going to be inside at any moment and I didn't want to think about what he’d have done to me. Aside from obviously murderous intentions, he looked out of his mind and I’d watched enough movies to know just how creative these kinds of psychos could be.
I looked around trying desperately to think of anything that might help me. My first thought was that maybe I could run to the kitchen and grab a knife too, something to fight back with you know? Another smashing heave against the door and I thought against that, with the rate this guy was hitting the door he’d get in well before I got to the kitchen. That's when I realised I was still clutching the empty bottle, the one I had spilled on myself earlier, and a plan dawned on me fuelled by adrenaline and the rather silly notion that game mechanics worked in real life. I figured it had better prospects than letting myself get savaged trying to run to the kitchen, so I put it into action. I timed my start, waiting for a gap in the man's assault. With each crash against the door the guy was taking around three seconds to gain momentum and smash himself against the wood. I needed to time this right or I was going to get a face full of knife. I waited as long as my shoulders could bear and then, timed beautifully I might add, I took my weight off the door, threw my bottle into the open doorway of my living room and I stood back. The second the man crashed through the door is the second the bottle smashed against some piece of furniture in the other room, all the while the door had slammed against me, hurting like a bitch but keeping me hidden behind it. The man howled like a demented beast and I couldn’t believe my luck when the guy actually sprinted into the room where I flung the bottle, hairy arse disappearing into the darkness.
I didn’t waste a second, I spun around the door and flung myself into the stairwell, running down the steps, skipping several of them and landing panting and puffing at the entry way. I grabbed the handle of the main door and looked up, to where the gap between the stairs allowed a person to see all the way to the top of the building. I opened my mouth to scream but all that came out was a strangled gasp from my strained lungs as I saw the man, leaning down across the stair railing, grinning at me with frothing mouth and wide black eyes. I panicked, opened the actually working automatic lock on the main door to leave and heard him rushing down the stairs after me. Animalistic fear took hold of me and everything went into my instincts as I slammed the door shut behind me and hopped over the misshapen stairs, running a short ways down the street as the door behind me flew open with a crash and the man came charging out. For the first time, and perhaps the only time I will ever say this, my landlord being a lazy fuck may very well have saved my life. I turned my head to see how fast he was gaining on me and watched as the man, in the dim half light of the nearby lampposts, tripped over the steps and crashed down onto the pavement, headfirst, yowling all the way. I stopped running as he stopped moving, just laying in the street, hands under him with his back to me. I stared, waiting for him to get up and give chase.
I knew I was wasting precious time just looking at the guy but as I kept staring at him, seeing no movement when previously he seemingly couldn't stop flinging himself at my door, I figured he’d done himself in one way or another. As it happens, I was right. The police arrived within minutes of the guy’s fall, and not long after he was pronounced dead on the scene. Apparently massive brain bleeding from the blunt force of the fall, in combination with a dosage of drugs even the officer speaking to me was in awe of had finished him off for good. My upstairs neighbour, apparently a friend to this guy though I’d never seen him around before, hadn’t received such a mercifully fast ending. They couldn’t tell me what they found or when my neighbour was attacked, all I know is he must have been screaming for quite a while before I finally woke up because from what my other neighbours told me throughout the coming days, the ones who had chosen not to react, the screams started at around one in the morning. From outside I could see streaks of lumpy gore on one of the windows facing out towards the road, my eyes kept flicking up to it every few moments while I gave my statement and I’ll admit I still stare at them now whenever I get off the bus.
I took the following day off work, mediocre loss in pay be damned. I needed some time to process what had happened and, well, here I am. I got on my landlord about the busted lock and made it clear that if he didn’t fix it ASAP then it wouldn't be the only murder in this building. Heavy handed sure, but I was still full of adrenaline at the time and now I have a new lock scheduled to be fitted tomorrow. I didn’t get on him about the entrance step though, and I don’t think I will again. I’ve gained a little respect for the annoying lump of rock, perhaps the best security a man could ask for. As it stands I ask that you give thanks for your local pothole or broken bit of infrastructure, it could just save your life.
#entertainment
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I’m still trying to come down from what happened, figured this would be the best place to come try to place all the pieces so to speak, collect my thoughts and maybe try to make sense of it all. Never thought I’d find myself in this kind of situation, and I’ll be honest I’d prefer there be no next time but, next time, I'll be smarter. I HAVE to be.
It was last week's Thursday, upon writing this at least. It was after work and I was headed home on the bus. Fatigued relief is definitely the most accurate phrase I could use for myself as I stepped off that crowded bus, the dilapidated little apartment complex before me never looked so delightful. Hell, with how exhausted my bones were right there and then, even the mercifully small steps I always tripped over in the mornings looked downright inviting like a red carpet beckoning me my sofa. As the bus drove away, dust and fumes trailing behind it, I held a hand over my mouth in practiced experience and walked to the door, taking care to hop over the top step that looked like someone had kicked the shit out of it. Witnesses be damned if I looked silly, I wasn’t ending up face down on the floor for the second time that day. A jangle of keys later, a few hard pushes on the old block of decrepit wood the landlord called a door and I was in, aching muscles and all. After a brief check of my letters in the communal letter boxes (to those interested it consisted of an exciting bill, a thrilling couple of fliers for some new food places and an exhilarating notice of road works by the local council) I made the journey up to the first floor, the automatic light for the stairs making an audible “click” as it sensed me, and I fiddled with my keys again. Somewhere in the building I heard a door slam, then presumably from the same flat the sounds of a heated argument. I sighed as I unlocked my door and pushed it closed behind me. This wasn’t exactly abnormal for some of my neighbours, though I always figured the guy above me for a chill dude and I was fairly certain that’s where the sounds were coming from.
Then I realised, while I had been distracted by the noise upstairs, I hadn't heard the tell-tale clunk of the door shutting behind me. I turned to look at it, my eyebrow raised in confusion as I examined the automatic locking mechanism, an archaic collection of levers, gears and a sad looking popped out spring. Once you unlock the door and enter the place it's meant to automatically lock behind you, but right there it looked like some sort of busted Victorian era toy. I gave the spring a twiddle, concluding, like some sort of truly experienced investigator, that this was the prime issue as I slammed the door hard, forcing it into place. It certainly shut then but wouldn’t lock no matter how much I tried. I sighed, knowing full well this meant another call to the landlord, one who would much rather give a peppy, "I'll get right to that sir!” statement as opposed to actually getting the job done. Deciding I'd deal with all that the next day and just let nature take its course with my unlocked door I walked to the kitchen, grabbed myself a bottle of something relaxing and bubbly and made my way to my living room. I figured the downstairs door kept out enough would-be intruders anyway, going a time without a locked flat door wouldn't be the death of me, maybe famous last thoughts but I was way too tired to care at the time. As I write this I can assure you I’m regretting that indifferent decision now.
I groaned in pleasure as I sat myself down on my couch and kicked off my shoes, putting my feet up and assuming the position of temporarily most comfortable man in the world, I even gave a little cackle of delight as I did. I flicked the TV on and enjoyed my drink, feeling content in that moment, like all was right in the world and the ache in my joints was well earned even if the pay in a day's time might not feel like it. A crash sounded from upstairs jolting me out of my slumped position as I stared at the ceiling for a moment, alert and listening. A moment passed, then another another, and then just silence. Worry creased my forehead and my hand instinctively went into my pocket and started towards my phone, seconds before the muffled voice of my neighbour echoed from above. “-lumsy high bastard, be more careful next time, that was a gift!” I relaxed a little, my hand coming back out of my pocket and resting back on my belly. A violent argument was one thing but an accident was hardly going to be of interest to the police, besides, I wasn’t about to ruin my evening just because someone couldn't watch their feet, like I was one to judge. I settled back down again, sipping my drink and watching TV but taking no real interest in what was on, just enjoying the feeling of not using my legs or getting ordered around. Relaxed, sleepy, content.
It was then that I woke up not knowing what day it was nor where I was, you know the kind, the type of nap you never meant to take that leaves you questioning reality, all slick with sweat and tangled limbs. I remember snorting a little as I went on full alert, because I hadn’t just woken up gently from a random nap, I’d heard what sounded like a scream. I couldn’t separate dream from reality, half asleep as I was, all I could do in the moment was slow my breathing a little, listen and grow accustomed to the waking world. It was dark now, I hadn’t even realised I’d fallen asleep. The tv, now dormant, would have turned itself off automatically after a few hours, so I figured it must have been fairly late. I clumsily took my phone out of my pocket and stared blearily as it flash-banged the time at my face. Two forty five in the morning, I’d been out for one hell of a while. Even worse, I realised with grumbling annoyance that I’d spilled my drink all down my shirt. I picked up the bottle and sat up, annoyed and grumbling but still half listening out for any noises. I remember thinking “Was it a dream?” over and over, I couldn’t remember what I was even dreaming about anyway, I just knew for certain that my shirt was soggy and my sleep was going to be wrecked after this. Bones creaked as I slowly stood up, and as I did so; a scream, a real one for certain this time, loud and pained tore through the building. I froze, suddenly no longer caring about my dripping shirt. I stayed standing for a heartbeat, two, three, four… my fingers lingering on the empty bottle in one hand and my phone in the other, too paralysed by shock to move.
Then, I heard it. “click”. The communal light came on, and a bolt of lightning shot up my spine as I realised two things at once. Firstly, someone was now in the stairwell, and secondly, most importantly - my door was unlocked. I tripped over myself and stumbled into the hallway racing for the door, needing to get to it before whatever was going on reached me. I hit the door with my shoulder and stood there, my weight against it, breathing heavy and listening to the other side. Now I know what I know, I figure I must have attracted him with the noise of my panic because pretty much instantly I heard the scraping of footsteps along the cold stone floor of the stairwell rapidly closing in, footfalls growing louder, and louder and louder until -. Nothing. The footsteps stopped just near my door and then not a sound, not a breath, just the quiet of the outside world nearby. The lights clicked off after sensing no movement for a full minute and I just listened, breathing slowly, trying desperately to hear anything. Suddenly gaining sense I held up my phone, weight still against the door and dialled 999. After going through the back and forth one expects from a police line, I gave them my address, the situation and they promised to send someone ASAP, I just needed to stay on the line and keep calm, don't act rash, don't panic, keep doing as I was.
Now, I don’t claim to be a smart man by any means, and I’ll admit, in combination of figuring the call would have spooked anyone nearby away, and after hearing nothing from outside my door for a short time (I realise the lack of the light making a click should have been a tip off now), AND with my brain still trying desperately to wake up, I decided to do something intensely stupid. I wish I had just shut up, stayed put and not done anything, maybe I wouldn’t have seen him and I wouldn’t have a new spate of nightmares centred around the guy, the police would have done their job and I could have just gone back to sleep. I carefully, as softly as I could, took my weight off the door and opened it, inch by inch until it was open wide enough to lean my head and shoulder through. I carefully leaned out part of the way, not too much, not enough to trigger the light. I looked to my right, down the stairwell and saw nothing in the dim gloom of the early morning darkness, I turned my head to the left, and just about shit myself.
The lights clicked on as either myself, in my panic, moved too fast, or the very nude man standing not even a meter away against the wall, seething from clenched jaws, eyes dilated to almost comical proportions, a large and very obviously recently used knife clenched in his right hand, moved enough to finally trigger them. Either way I was back inside my flat in an instant with my weight against the door, the second I did so the man began slamming himself like a lunatic against the hardwood, banging with his entire body again and again. I heard splintering crunches as part of the frame gave way and I struggled to keep the door fully shut, every time the man slammed into it the door shuddered and pushed open slightly, again and again until my strength began to fade and the door opened wider with each violent shove. I needed to do something, right then and there or that mad bastard was going to be inside at any moment and I didn't want to think about what he’d have done to me. Aside from obviously murderous intentions, he looked out of his mind and I’d watched enough movies to know just how creative these kinds of psychos could be.
I looked around trying desperately to think of anything that might help me. My first thought was that maybe I could run to the kitchen and grab a knife too, something to fight back with you know? Another smashing heave against the door and I thought against that, with the rate this guy was hitting the door he’d get in well before I got to the kitchen. That's when I realised I was still clutching the empty bottle, the one I had spilled on myself earlier, and a plan dawned on me fuelled by adrenaline and the rather silly notion that game mechanics worked in real life. I figured it had better prospects than letting myself get savaged trying to run to the kitchen, so I put it into action. I timed my start, waiting for a gap in the man's assault. With each crash against the door the guy was taking around three seconds to gain momentum and smash himself against the wood. I needed to time this right or I was going to get a face full of knife. I waited as long as my shoulders could bear and then, timed beautifully I might add, I took my weight off the door, threw my bottle into the open doorway of my living room and I stood back. The second the man crashed through the door is the second the bottle smashed against some piece of furniture in the other room, all the while the door had slammed against me, hurting like a bitch but keeping me hidden behind it. The man howled like a demented beast and I couldn’t believe my luck when the guy actually sprinted into the room where I flung the bottle, hairy arse disappearing into the darkness.
I didn’t waste a second, I spun around the door and flung myself into the stairwell, running down the steps, skipping several of them and landing panting and puffing at the entry way. I grabbed the handle of the main door and looked up, to where the gap between the stairs allowed a person to see all the way to the top of the building. I opened my mouth to scream but all that came out was a strangled gasp from my strained lungs as I saw the man, leaning down across the stair railing, grinning at me with frothing mouth and wide black eyes. I panicked, opened the actually working automatic lock on the main door to leave and heard him rushing down the stairs after me. Animalistic fear took hold of me and everything went into my instincts as I slammed the door shut behind me and hopped over the misshapen stairs, running a short ways down the street as the door behind me flew open with a crash and the man came charging out. For the first time, and perhaps the only time I will ever say this, my landlord being a lazy fuck may very well have saved my life. I turned my head to see how fast he was gaining on me and watched as the man, in the dim half light of the nearby lampposts, tripped over the steps and crashed down onto the pavement, headfirst, yowling all the way. I stopped running as he stopped moving, just laying in the street, hands under him with his back to me. I stared, waiting for him to get up and give chase.
I knew I was wasting precious time just looking at the guy but as I kept staring at him, seeing no movement when previously he seemingly couldn't stop flinging himself at my door, I figured he’d done himself in one way or another. As it happens, I was right. The police arrived within minutes of the guy’s fall, and not long after he was pronounced dead on the scene. Apparently massive brain bleeding from the blunt force of the fall, in combination with a dosage of drugs even the officer speaking to me was in awe of had finished him off for good. My upstairs neighbour, apparently a friend to this guy though I’d never seen him around before, hadn’t received such a mercifully fast ending. They couldn’t tell me what they found or when my neighbour was attacked, all I know is he must have been screaming for quite a while before I finally woke up because from what my other neighbours told me throughout the coming days, the ones who had chosen not to react, the screams started at around one in the morning. From outside I could see streaks of lumpy gore on one of the windows facing out towards the road, my eyes kept flicking up to it every few moments while I gave my statement and I’ll admit I still stare at them now whenever I get off the bus.
I took the following day off work, mediocre loss in pay be damned. I needed some time to process what had happened and, well, here I am. I got on my landlord about the busted lock and made it clear that if he didn’t fix it ASAP then it wouldn't be the only murder in this building. Heavy handed sure, but I was still full of adrenaline at the time and now I have a new lock scheduled to be fitted tomorrow. I didn’t get on him about the entrance step though, and I don’t think I will again. I’ve gained a little respect for the annoying lump of rock, perhaps the best security a man could ask for. As it stands I ask that you give thanks for your local pothole or broken bit of infrastructure, it could just save your life.
#entertainment
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