Feeling a little better today, and jumping into my writing early again, hoping to get this actually posted before noon, my time, and actually keeping the writing time reasonable (future Jon edit: hahahahaha).
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Prompt: A young man becomes obsessed with an old man living opposite his building. The young man is convinced that the old man is the embodiment of the devil and starts planning the murder.
Genre: Horror
Source: 132 Best Horror Writing Prompts and Scary Story Ideas – Learn Squibler
Time Spent: 2 hours
Word Count: 3124
James Stubbin had lived in the First Light Apartment building for several months when he first noticed that he was being watched from across the courtyard by an old man. At first, he did not think anything of it, just idle curiosity as he was going to work, but soon he noticed that every single time he was outside, be it to go to work, to take a walk, return from work, take out his garbage, anything, the old man was there. The old man was tall, walked with a cane but held himself up straight, had a full head of white hair, always swept back, with a well-trimmed mustache and goatee of the same. He always wore a fedora loosely on his head, a button down shirt, tucked into simple pants, with a jacket or coat on. His deep, dark brown eyes stared at him without blinking, so far as James could tell.
James Stubbin was a man of average build and height, clean shaven and with shaggy brown hair and almost amber colored eyes. He worked in sales and was on a quick rise at his company and thus was away from his apartment, he lived alone, quite often, which is what made the well-appointed but fairly cost-effective single room apartments at the First Light building perfect for him. He was used to being alone in his free time, as he had grown up frequently alone as an orphan moving through the foster system. This close scrutiny reminded him, unpleasantly of the scrutiny he had always been under as a child. It was after several months of this that he finally decided to bring it up with the apartment owner.
James walked into the owner’s office one day on his way to work, he largely made his own schedule so was little worried about being late, and as always, found the jovial man more than happy to talk with him. The owner, Samuel as he insisted that everyone call him, was a pleasant man, a little taller than James, who always wore a white panama hat, a white suit jacket, and untucked shirt of some color or another, and white pants. There was something both very genial about him, but also a formal nature to him.
“Samuel, I am sorry to bug you this morning, but I have a concern for the man that lives across the apartment courtyard from me. Every time I am outside, coming and going from work, taking the trash out, checking my mail, or anything else, and he is outside his front door, and just staring at me.” I blurted out.
Samuel chuckled, “ah yes, our distinguished guest from across the way. He has been in this apartment complex since I built it. Keep to himself mostly. Has he threatened you or spoken to you in some way? Have you attempted to speak to him?”
“No,” I had to admit. “I have not.”
“Well there, young man,” he said putting a kind arm over my shoulder, “I would say that is the point you should start. I don’t want any of my resident to feel harassed, and also I don’t want to tell my tenants they are not able to be outside whenever they wish.”
James sighed, and agreed, and went about his day. Returning later, to once more see the old man staring at him. Gritting his teeth, James walked over to the bottom of the stairs leading to the man’s apartment lived it, and shouted, “why are you staring at me? Have I done you some wrong.”
A croaking voice came from above, which sounded like the man had a smoking habit for much of his life, although he had yet to see the man light up so much as a single cigarette, “I watch those that interest or concern me.” There was a sound of shuffling steps and clicks of the stick, a door opening and then shutting appropriately.
The staring did not stop, even after he went back to politely ask the man to stop, which was again ignore and after three more weeks of this, he went back to the owner’s office and told him that the man had not stopped and he had attempted to get him to explain or stop.
The manager sat back in his rather ornate wooden chair and stroke the non-existent bear on his face before responding, “how odd, how very odd. I shall speak to this man a little later today, you have my word.”
When James returned home from work he saw that the owner of the building and the old man arguing loudly at the man’s door. He could catch only a few words, but there was a final shout and a slammed door. It was only a few moments later that there was a knock on his own door. James opened it to find the Owner, looking annoyed, and he invited him in.
Once the owner was seated and had kindly accepted a cup of tea to help with his throat, clearly raw from shouting, and finally addressed James, “That man is quite obstinate. He believes that he has the right to do as he pleases, whenever he pleases, and that it is his duty to keep an eye on everyone else.”
“Are you going to evict him then?”
The owner shook his head, “That man has been a resident, always alone and in the same apartment, ever since this building was built in the 50’s, and it was part of the contract I signed when I took over the building that I would not kick him out, I am sorry.”
James thanked the owner and showed him out, witnessing the old man simply staring at this front door while he had it ajar. He quickly closed and latched his door and made sure his windows were closed and latched as well and felt a very uneasy about going to sleep. Indeed, at about 1:00 in the morning there was a knock on the door, and he heard the old man’s voice out, muttering something that sounded a little like Latin and maybe also a mix of other languages as well, and finished by declaring he was not done with me yet.
This made him well, and truly worried, and he began hardly living in isolation, with doors and windows latched, curtains drown, and he ordered security cameras, on the chance he could capture anything. This did not help as the man seemed to spend the night wandering around the compound and frequently trying to peak into windows or around the door and muttering things to himself.
Before work one-day, James raced out to his car, ignoring the old man as best he could, and stopped by the owner’s office again. He burst in and started shouting, “something must be done! I have got cameras setup and they show him often trying to peak in my windows and under more door. I am afraid to leave my own apartment!”
Samuel once more stood up, smiling, and putting a kindly hand around the young man’s shoulders, “I hear the fear you have. I will go speak with him again, because violating a tenant’s privacy like that is unacceptable, and that would give me grounds to start an eviction process. And if you know a lawyer, a restrained order might be warrented.”
“Thank you, I breathed a sigh of relief, but I have heard those processes aren’t always the quickest.”
“Ah, said the apartment owner as he moved back over to his desk, rummaged around, and produce a long knife with a broad blade, a long, gripped handle, ornately carved of a dark one with symbols he did not recognize, and a blade about 4 inches long. “I got this a long time ago, this should give you some piece of mind until all of this is settled.”
James did have to admit that having the knife did make him feel better, so he stowed it in his glove compartment and went to work. He returned home to see several police officers talking with the old man at his door, and they looked upset. Still, the old man found time to glare at him before he made it to my door and into his apartment, where the rest of the evening passed uneventfully, although he kept the knife within arms reach.
He was awoken in the middle of the night, again, but a terrific pounding and shouting at my door, in a language he could not place. The security camera showed nothing but a weight fuzz. Untouched the lights flickered, appliances turned on and off, and there was a uncomfortable feeling in the air as if his skin was trying to claw its way off his body.
He had felt it had gone on for hours, but his phone told him that it had only lasted about fifteen minutes. I walked carefully to the door and peaked outside, and was horrified to see that strange symbols were carved into the frames of the wood and paint seemed to be splashed all around, so just loosely and some in the same symbols around the door. Both of which seemed to glow faintly in the moonlight.
James could feel himself losing control of the anger that had been building inside him for weeks and tried to breath deeply to keep calm. He was not going to sit around and call the owner or the police, however, he was going to confront this head on.
Putting the knife through the belt on his back, and having a non-descript blue hoody on, he marched out of his apartment, walked down the stairs to my apartment, across the courtyard, up the stairs to his apartment, number 169, and pounded on the door.
The old man opened the door, and for the first time looked ever so slight shocked. He breathed deeply again, trying to maintain control, but finally took a deep breath, pushed the older man into his own apartment.
“What are you on about, Mr!” James shouted in his face.
The old man, who I guessed would have been quite handsome in his younger years, staired in my eyes for a moment, stone faced, “There is something about you that must be crushed, boy, I was told you work for Grant and Spaulding, which has been fleecing clients out of millions, and I heard you brag you were one of its top sales people. That darkness within you is why you interest me!”
James gave a derisive laugh, “you are the one about to leave these apartments. Samuel told me that he was starting the eviction process and I saw the cops on the phone. As soon as I am back in my apartment, I am going to call the police and request a restraining order!”
The old man raised an eyebrow, “I have not spoken with Samuel in months or a police officers in years!”
James stepped forward angrily and just barely stopped himself from grabbing the old fool by his lapels, “You were talking with him a few weeks ago and have spoken no words to the police just last night! Stop lying to me!”
The old man bared his teeth, “you are the one who is full of lies, James Stubbin! And now that I have you here, you will not possibly escape me.”
With a flick of his cane, the man pushed his door shut and took several steps backwards. It was at this point that James saw that the door, the walls, and the floor, were covered in the same odd symbols that had been drawn on his door. The man picked up a thick book, made of a black or deep brown leather, flipped it open, and began chanting.
Pain wracked James body and he dropped to his knees. He tried to move, tried to back away to the door, or else move towards the man, but any attempt and the pain doubled. One by one the symbols began to glow and candles lit themselves and still the old man kept chanting and now swaying back and forth. Soon James was curled up in the fetal position, his very nervous system and all that he was afire and in agony.
The pain stopped getting worse, but it was like the memory of it, the lingering ache kept him on the floor. He could hear the fits steps, and the tap of the cane, of the old man moving toward him. James realized that this might be his one, and only chance. The old man bent down and turned his head to the side, and peered into his eyes as if he were trying to understand something. James took a deep breath, snarled and seized the man by the collar with my right hand. The old man, on instinct, pulled back from the sudden attack, which helped James sit up a bit straighter, just enough for his left hand to snake around to the back of his belt, draw out the knife, and plunge it into the man’s throat.
The old man staggered backward, choking and gurgling on his own blood, and James fell back heavily on the ground as his grip loosened. He pulled himself up to his hands and knees and tried to move myself forward and found that he could not move still. A few seconds later, the old man’s blood trickled onto one of the symbols, changing its look, and suddenly he was able to move again.
James dragged himself over to the old man’s couch, and pulled himself up onto it, and tried to catch his breath as what had just happened to him, and what he had just done, sunk in. Perhaps it was the intense pain that had been inflicted on him, the strange behavior of the man, and the fear he had lived in, but after the initial shock had worn off, he found a strange satisfaction in having killed the old man.
Once his breath and heartrate had calmed down, he saw the thick, black book laying on the ground and picked it up. Inside were thin, almost tissue like sheets of paper, on which were drawn the same symbols that covered the apartment and had been drawn on his front door. “What kind of devilry is this?”
A chuckle from the doorway made him jump. “Well, not exactly,” said Samuel with a smile as he walked through the door, which James hadn’t even heard open.
“Well done, my boy,” the owner said as he stepped fully into the apartment. He turned from facing James as he reached the old man’s body. He took his hat of solemnly and said, “no hard feelings, old friend, till the next game.” With that, he placed the hat back on his head and came over to James and took the book from his hands before sitting on the edge of the recliner opposite him. “I imagine that you have some questions.”
“Who was he? Who are you? What in the actual hell is going on here!?” all tumbled out of his mouth nearly simultaneously.
Samuel’s smile widened showing his gleaming white, and perfect, teeth. “Well, to answer the last question first, you were being tested. He wanted to either exorcise the evil from you or otherwise cast you back into hell, and I wanted to see what you would do.”
James’s mouth dropped open and he stammered but could not get any clear words or questions out. This seemed to amuse Samuel even more.
“He was an angel, sent to keep an eye on you and if you showed signs of evil to stop you. If it helps any, you merely killed his mortal body, his spirit will return to heaven, eventually.”
James managed to get out: “is that why you gave me that strange knife?”
“Very good,” chuckled the man. “even shrouded in a mortal body as he was, no mere mortal weapon could have killed him.”
“Why didn’t he remember you talking to him? Or the police? I would have thought an angel wouldn’t lie.”
The white suited man smiled rather sheepishly, “he wouldn’t lie, and he never talked to me or the police. I allowed you to see what you expected to see. I apologize for the deception. Normally, I avoid lying as well, as I found it too easy, but it was necessary for you to be properly tested?”
James fairly exploded in anger, standing up from the sofa, and did even think of it when the knife that had been behind him was suddenly in his hand, “tested!? Tested for what?! Who are you?!”
The man did not stop smiling, although some of the mirth was gone from it as he stood up, unconcerned at the knife wielding man standing in front of him, and walked close to him. “I see that anger, and with it your abilities, are already coming more easily to you. That is good.”
With a snarl, and again without his full awareness, brandished the knife at Samuel. As suddenly as James did, he found his hand empty and he witnessed the knife in Samuel’s hand, who then casually tucked it into his jacket. Laughing with a mixture of frustration and what he suspected was some form of approaching insanity, James took several steps backward and sat on the couch. Samuel matched the move and sat at the edge of the recliner.
Samuel regarded James for a moment before saying, “To introduce myself properly to you, my proper name is Samael, you might know me by the names I have been given like Lucifer, Satan, or the Devil. I am your father. I needed to see whether you had it in you to kill and whether the evil could be fanned into something more.”
James’ mouth dropped open again, “what are you saying, I am the anti-christ?”
Samael laughed deep and long, “don’t let Hollywood cloud your mind. Just because you are my child does not make you the anti-Christ. I have many children, and many are not even useful to me, that is why I test you.”
James was not sure what to say, or what to do about this, and sat back on the couch heavily. It was a revelation that he could not process, but at the same time felt oddly fitting. Finally, he managed, “what happens now?”
Samuel smiled as he got up and started walking toward the door, “now, we get to know each other properly and we find out what abilities you have actually inherited, and what may be done with them.”
James nodded, stood up, and followed his father out the door.
Another one that went far, far longer than I intended, but I enjoyed and got really into writing it, as I often do with things. Still not what I am intending to work on, so to speak, but I am enjoying these short stories I am writing.
Hope you enjoyed and that you are having a wonderful day and get to do, or experience, something creative.
– Jon
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