Remi plot sits right in the centre of the greater Dome city. The blocks surrounding it are filled with all sorts of stores, parlours, salons, bookstores, sports halls, music shops boutiques, furniture stores you name it. People from all walks of life bustle around this hotspot day and night.
MISKI was numbered 324. It was a large multistorey complex with four wings. They formed a square and surrounded a small garden called Everknot.
The buildings were of a burnt red colour with rusty pipes and whatnot bits hanging around most corners. Its electrical wires ran haphazardly through the maze of the walls, twisting and turning at awkward bends. The drainage system was old and outdated but the city council had not yet come up with a plan to tackle such a massive project in the heart of the city.
The building had four sets of staircases, one for each wing. On the rear of each building ran a set of emergency stairs. The block had six floors. Each floor had a corridor facing the garden below and doors on the inside. In total, more than two hundred apartments lined these age-worn hallways.
The East Wing was the newest one, it had been added a decade ago. Most of its inhabitants were young families whose children often played at Everknot. These families were from a working-class background and toiled hard to provide for their loved ones. Many of them lived with extended family members. One could always find someone’s grandmother sweeping outside the door or a grandpa smoking in the hallway.
The South Wing hosted all sorts of nationalities and immigrants from various countries. Some poor some well off. This wing was an amalgam of multiple cultures. Languages of all sorts were spoken there. Walking through the corridors one could smell foods of all kinds. Some kind on the nostrils some not. This myriad of nationalities had come together accommodating under one roof to live in peace and respect each other’s spaces. Rarely any arguments broke out and if they did, they were settled amicably.
The North Wing was where most of the older families lived. These houses had been passed down from one generation to the other. As expected, this wing showed heavy signs of use and was weathered rough by age and elements. The stairs and hallways here were dusty, the paint peeling off most corners. The inhabitants of these generational homes seldom lived in them. Most of the young men and women who had inherited these apartments stayed overseas.
The West Wing was perhaps the most mysterious. Damaged by an electrical fire a few decades ago it was still under renovation. Its doors and windows were all boarded up and the corridors had been sealed off by tapes. Teenagers often sneaked in there to smoke or drink away from the prying eyes of the seniors.
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It was a rainy day. Children in the garden below scuttered off quickly, although some were still jumping around. It had been a hot summer and anything cool was welcome. But at this moment there was a chill in the air. A chill which none of the residents of the buildings could understand. The rain wasn’t warm or welcoming, rather it seemed to carry an icy sting.
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On the sixth floor of the west wing leaning on the corridor edge stood a woman. She seemed unbothered by the rain and the wind. She pulled out a pale hand from her sleeve and slipped out a metal pouch. She clicked it open with her long fingernails. Inside were eight neatly lined and rolled cigarettes. She pulled one out and lit it. She took a puff but there was no smoke. The woman closed the pouch and flicked the cigarette high into the air. Leaning out, as she was about to grab it, her grip slipped, and she started falling. Dress dancing in mid-air hands flying about she screeched a high-pitched laugh and then a snap, the sound of spine cracking the body had hit a tree branch, the back folding in half. Children and adults rushed over to the spot where they had heard the sound but there was nothing in sight. Neatly on a flower bed lay an empty steel pouch wet under the falling rain.
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Ten Months later….
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Jeremy lived on the fourth floor of the East Wing. He was in his room. A rhomboid-shaped dwelling. Walls covered by movie posters of all kinds. Most depicted horror characters. Werewolves, Vampyrs, trolls, wraiths, serial killers, and all sorts of macabre. On the far side of the room was a large glass-panned window which opened onto the emergency staircase landing. In the centre of the room stood a foldable table. On it was the latest project that he was working on. An animatronic life-sized headless doll. Around his room were all sorts of grim books, figures, and other paraphernalia. Jeremy lay on his bed, covers pushed aside working on his laptop. Headphones on, he was working tirelessly on a new soundtrack which he wanted to pair up with his doll.
Knock Knock. There was a tap on the door. Jeremy looked up. It must be Henry. He called for him to come inside. “It’s locked you dumbass,” shouted Henry. Jeremy jumped up and unlatched it.
Henry walked in slowly, eyes down on his phone. “Any update on our post?” asked Jeremy. Henry looked up, the window was spotless and then his gaze fell on its half-open frame. “Why in hell did you keep your window open in the freezing morning?” he asked running across the room. Henry slammed the pane shut and locked it. “Must have forgotten” mumbled Jeremy still focusing on his laptop. Jeremy and Henry were avid posters of their horror stories on various social media platforms. “Nah, not much traffic, only fifteen responses” muttered Henry. They had spent a good two weeks brainstorming their latest story. The story revolved around a small mystery town based on a fictional island. Henry slowly wandered towards the bed and plopped down on the hard mattress. He groaned and jumped up quickly massaging back. “Bloody hell man don’t leave your action figures lying about the room” he sneered. Jeremy did not reply, he was too focused on his latest track to care about anything. Henry approached him slowly and then smacked him on the head. “Asshole!” screamed Jeremy as he hurriedly shut his computer. There was a knocking sound, “Come in!” he shouted. His mother gently turned the knob and entered carrying in a tray of food. “I thought you boys may want to eat something hot in this horrid weather”. Both the teens jumped up and scooted over to grab whatever they could. After what seemed like just five minutes they sleepily slumped over the bed. “I ate too much,” said Henry. “I probably won’t need lunch now” mumbled Jeremy as he slowly got up. There was another knock. Henry looked up hopefully expecting some hot chocolate, but Jeremy shouted, “No Mom! We are full”. There was no reply. Henry gingerly walked over to the door and opened it, but Jeremy’s mom wasn’t there.
The knocking grew louder. Both the boys looked around the room questionably. No one noticed the black charred hand attempting to unlatch the window. Their gaze fell on the said window, a crow stood there pecking on the glass, probably trying to escape the cold.
Henry crossed the room and gently tried to open the lock. The bird watched on hopefully. “How do you unlock this dam thing” he shouted back to Jeremy who was now dozing half-minded on the bed. There was a rush of cold air as the window burst open. Henry stumbled backwards and landed on his back, dazed he looked outside but the bird seemed to have flown off. He stumbled across the messy room shut the frame tightly and muttered a few curses under his breath. He did not notice the half part of the crow’s leg bleeding on the stairs. Blood still pulsating, the claws retracted as if they had held something.
Upwards and outside the window a black shadow held the mutilated bird in her jaws.
She was gripping the vertical wall with both her feet and one hand. She lowered her head and neck, hair flowing down she looked through the glass. The boys with their backs facing the window were laughing about something.
She grinned; her smile spread from ear to ear revealing a sharp row of canines. She moved one foot up and then the other and crawled up to the next floor. All she had to do was wait.
Henry and Jeremy both lay stretched on the bed. Trying not to doze off they kept on refreshing their feed on the apps. They finally managed to get off their butts and strolled down towards the living room. Both decided that they needed some fresh air and mumbled some excuse to Jeremy’s mum. Once outside, they made their way to the staircase balcony on the uppermost floor. From here you can get a full view of all the wings. Everknot lay sprawled beneath them. A few kids were playing on the swings, tightly clad in windcheater jackets. But since the garden was surrounded by buildings on all sides, there was hardly any breeze.
Henry reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes while Jeremy produced a matchbox. Both smoked quietly in the abandoned corridor. All wings were connected by the adjacent corridors, all you had to do was walk over to the next bend.
They both stood there smoking happily discussing their upcoming story. Finally, Henry crushed his cigarette with his right foot and gazed outside at the west wing. All was normal.
Jeremy finished his smoke and likewise bent down to squash the ashes when he noticed black charred markings on the floor. “Someone else been smoking here?” he asked loudly.
“I don’t think anyone comes here much,” said Henry. He bent down to look closely. It was ash alright, but not from cigarettes, it was much too darker. “Hey man, swing your phone light this way” he beckoned to Jeremy. As they looked on, they saw one more ash print a foot away and another after that. As they looked closely, they could see that the prints were shaped like feet.
Henry felt a movement in his stomach which had nothing to do with their brunch. Jeremy on the other hand was intrigued. They showed their light further on where the footprints were placed but they seemed to slowly descend down the dark corridor and turn away on the bend.
“Found something?” came a voice hoarse behind them. They both jumped. Heart thumping, they looked back at an old man standing there. With a cane in one hand and a cigar in the other. He gazed at them apprehensively. “Smoking, eh? Calm down I won’t tell your folks “He muttered. His eyes fell on the phone’s flash which was still pointing towards the ash footprint. “She’s still mucking about I see” he said as a cloud of smoke came out of his lungs.
“She usually never leaves her wing, unless it is urgent or important,” said the old man, talking to himself mostly. Henry found his voice at last and asked, “Who’s she?”
The old man looked at him hard and said “The west wing was home to many young families who had settled there after the war. People living happily with their newborns, hoping to forget the trauma of the past. The wing was young and freshly constructed then and was full of delightful children. Their laughter echoing through the walls”.
Henry, heart beating faster asked “But the wing has been all cleared up after the fire. I heard there were no casualties”. The old man looked hard at him and said “It was all an effort to keep quiet and peace. People had happily moved on with their lives and no one wanted to remember the death of a young mother and her child”.
“After a while, no one could bear to place a step into that wing. They all felt a chill and heaviness in their hearts if they tried,” said the old man. “The Husband distraught with grief jumped off from this very spot we are standing now. She still comes out of her house to stand here and wait for him”.
Henry looked like he was about to vomit. Bile was reaching up to his throat. Jeremy asked, “Do other inhabitants know about this? They never once mentioned it before”. “I doubt it,” said the old man holding his cane. His gaze flickered off into the dark emptiness behind the boy’s back. His face went pale white, and the knuckles gripping the cane turned a shade of purple.
“You need to leave, NOW!” he boomed. “Go away! There’s nothing left here for you here now!”. The boys looking alarmed turned to face where the man was looking. It was empty and dark.
Then he said hurriedly “You boys better go down to your rooms and stay in for a while”.
The old man, shuffling, slowly stepped back, his eyes still focused on the darkness of the corridor beyond. The boys quickly scampered off along with him.
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Darkness fell as the evening approached. The corridors and staircases lay deserted. A woman moved across the garden, almost gliding. A holding on to a small fist curled around her hand.
She gently let go of the child and looked up towards the east wing. She could almost hear the two boys chatting.
“Just wait” she muttered. “You will pay” and then she wailed like a banshee and her scream echoed throughout the block.
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Henry and Jeremy were both quiet. Sitting and waiting patiently for their thoughts to settle. What they had witnessed was still unsaid between them.
After a while, Henry spoke, “Was someone actually there? Or was the old man simply scaring us?”. Jeremy didn’t respond. He was already searching for the fire that had happened. The information was old and not much could be found on the Internet. He had expected that. Hardly anyone cared about a fire that had burnt more than a few decades ago.
The search came up with only two results. The first one was from the official government archives. “The fire at the Remi west wing block resulted in no casualties, moreover it was quickly put out before spreading through the whole block”. Jeremy agreed that this was in line with what they had heard before.
However, the second search link was from a private blog post. The first few paragraphs contained the same details as the page prior. Although it did add a crucial bit of new information.
“In the morning hours of Thursday, the 15th, a fire raged through one of the wings on the Remi block. Alarms sounded almost immediately and the whole area was evacuated. The fire officials were delayed in responding as they had to fight through the blizzard and ice-coated roads”. Jeremy continued reading. “The official cause of the fire was never disclosed but reputable sources from the scene confirmed that it was caused by a pair of delinquent teen boys playing with matchsticks near the electrical room”.
Jeremy paused and thoughts flooded his mind.
Focused on the screen it would have been hard for him to notice a woman standing opposite the glass window. She was staring at him intently. She had a slim figure. But that was all about her beauty. Her toenails were longer than a crow’s beak and bent like sharp claws. The feet were crooked and broken at the ankles. Her legs were burnt, charred tissue dangling in thin glowing red strips. The fingernails were too long and had brown dried mud in them. The arms looked as if they had been stabbed repeatedly by glass. Pieces of ruby red shards were jutting out from her forearms. And then the face.
Someone had sprayed acid on it, eyelids melted off, dark patches of black tissue circling her hollow eyes, nasal bone glistening in city lights. The facial tissue scared like it had been torn apart by a shredder and put back with glue.
She intently stared, fingernails almost scratching the glass. She slowly reached down with her one hand and placed it on the latch. Slowly she began to turn it upwards.
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BANG! From the street below. The woman disappeared with blinding speed. Jeremy and Henry jumped down and ran towards the window. A truck had collided with a fire hydrant. Its owner, dazed, swaggered onto the road a slumped into a foetal position. He was immediately surrounded by people. “Should we go down!?” screeched Henry. But it was evident that the driver was already being assisted to his feet. The boys sat there for a brief moment staring at the ruckus. After a while, they slumped off from the glass and returned to their usual place.
“I never thought of entering the west wing,” said Jeremy after a while. Henry looked up in alarm. “Why in hell would you like to go in there?” he asked looking aghast. “I just want to know what happened, don’t you? I have been living in this complex my whole life and I have never once ventured into that place” replied Jeremy. “Well, there is a good reason why we won’t,” said Henry. The discussion was settled. Henry knew that he had no reason to step foot into that infernal place.
After a while, Henry left for his house and Jeremy continued working on his soundtrack.
Both boys slept uneasily that night.
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Early next morning they awoke to sirens ringing all over the block. Still half asleep they worked their way out of their homes into the corridor. Down in the garden a couple of paramedics stood over a small stretcher. The woman next to it was howling with grief.
Henry and Jeremy ran down at breakneck speed and skidded to a halt at the entrance of Everknot. The old man from before stood leaning on the tree with his head looking down.
“What happened!?” shouted Henry. The old man looked up at them, gazed hard and said “She did it”
The boys worked their way through the crowd and reached the centre. The woman from before was wailing and banging her head on the gurney. On it was the corpse of a young child. He must have been six or so. The senior paramedic covered the body while the younger one was trying to comfort the mother.
Jeremy quickly gathered his wits and asked the old man “How did this happen”. “The young boy, while playing had gone up to the west wing. The paramedics say that he must scaled the corridor wall somehow” replied the man grimly.
“But you doubt that theory” muttered Henry under his breath. The old man had heard him. He only looked up at the corridor from where the boy had fallen and stared intently.
“It’s no point now. What’s done is done” he gathered himself up, shifting the wait on his walking stick he strode past the boys without saying another word.
Nothing much happened for the next few weeks, the whole block seemed to be in mourning. A small makeshift monument was erected in the garden.
But life went on, once again Everknot was full of kids enjoying the slightly warmer weather. Snow had stopped, but heaps of it still lay on the ground. Muddy puddles were aplenty. There had been no other unfortunate events.
Early on a Sunday, Jeremy and Henry sat working in their respective rooms. Jeremy was writing a new draft for his upcoming essay. Henry was working on a new song on his guitar.
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On the sixth-floor west wing corridor, the old man walked calmly shifting his weight from one foot to another. He walked up to the spot where the child had apparently fallen off. He searched for markings but there weren’t any. He stood there bent, examining the floor. There was a low rasping noise from a few meters behind him. He stood up suddenly, almost cracking his back. Eyes focused forward he continued walking straight ahead not daring to look back. The rasping noises were closer now. The old man abandoned his walking stick and started stumbling hurriedly towards the exit. Placing his foot on the first step, he looked back. No one was there. Hastily he walked down at a quickening pace and disappeared around the second landing.
He quickly reached his apartment, entered, and locked the door. Peering out of the eyehole he scanned the surroundings. No one. He was calm now. He cursed at himself for panicking and for losing his stick. But all was good now.
He turned away from the door and- She was standing right in front of him.
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Jeremy was walking around the block, his headphones on, not a care in the world. He passed the bookshops, the cafes, and the hair saloon all while humming to his music. Soon he rounded the corner and entered the Remi block. Everknot lay straight ahead. He turned left and started climbing the stairs two at a time. His animatronic doll project was almost finished, just a few final touches and it’ll be mega. On the fourth floor just outside his door, he bumped into Henry. “Man, I was just coming in to see ya,” said Henry. They entered the house and made their way to Jeremy’s room. Henry plopped down on a beanbag while Jeremy pulled out a stool and sat next to the foldable table. The doll stood proudly, fitted with new attire. “What you gonna name it?” asked Henry. “Haven’t come up with anything yet” replied Jeremy. They stayed in the room till late evening. Both then decided to head out for a smoke. They reached their usual spot on the sixth-floor corridor.
As Jeremy was about to pull out a cigarette, he noticed a small child-like figure leaning on the opposite corridor. Throwing off caution he raced towards the other hallway, Henry hot on his heels behind him. They soon reached the corridor. It was empty. Then they heard a child’s laughter coming from the shadowed corner. Pensively, they made their way towards the source of the noise. It was coming from behind a half-open door.
Jeremy, out of thrill and less concern slowly approached the door and peered inside the room. There were no signs of a child or any laughter. The icy air held still inside the room.
A small shadow zipped across the main halfway. Both the boys entered the house with feather-like feet. They continued down the hallway. Then giggling noise mixed with laughter came again this time from a door on the left. Jeremy dared to open the door. There was bright light inside. A beautiful young woman sat in the corner. A small child, six or seven was playing with a toy train. She looked up at them and smiled. It was warm and welcoming. She showed no signs of surprise as the two boys entered her house without an invitation.
She beckoned them towards the sofa. Both Jeremy and Henry sat down, transfixed by the woman’s grace and beauty. “I am sorry, but have you just moved in?” asked Jeremy. “No, I have been here for a while now” replied the woman. “Sorry about barging in, we thought the child was in trouble. He was leaning too close to the wall and you what eh…… happened recently,” said Henry. Her smile faltered down slightly. “Yes, I heard, quite tragic” she muttered. “My son has been known to get into dangerous situations, but nothing really happens to him. My love always protects him” she added. “My name is Jeremy, and this is Henry,” said Jeremy as a form of informal introduction, “What’s yours?. “Martha” she replied simply. “And your sons?” asked Henry. “Remi, we named him after this block you see, it was our first home after the war. “The war?” asked Jeremy, his finger going numb. “Yes, you see, my husband and I moved in here during the unrest”. “The war…” mumbled Henry. That was decades ago, and this young woman seemed hardly 20. His heart beating faster now, he looked at Jeremy who was sweating. The woman looked at them and smiled.
The smile stretched from ear to ear, lips split open revealing sharp serrated teeth. “We lived in this west wing before the fire and continued living in it afterwards” she added with all the gracefulness of a rabid wolf.
The young boy turned to face them now. It was just ash, no nose, no mouth just black tar-coated ash. The woman stood up; seven feet tall she walked towards them. “You boys are just like those who played with matchsticks and burned us all” “YOU NEVER LEARN DO YOU” she screamed. Jeremy and Henry suddenly found back their drained energy and bolted for the door. The woman calmly walked behind them leaving one ash print after another. On reaching the corridor, the boys looked back. “My child and I lived here and always will. It’s our home, but you can always come back if you want a cup of tea or a chat” with that she shut the door with such force that the wind knocked both the boys down. Jeremy got up quickly and pulled Henry up and they rushed out, down the stairs into the Everknot.
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The beautiful woman glided back towards her chair and placed the toy back into her son’s arms.
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“Papa will be home soon. I’ll put on the kettle” and she pulled out the silver metal pouch and lit a cigarette.
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