Story 84
Blood
It had been less than a week since I left my parents’ house and started living alone.
Since I was a woman living by herself, I splurged a bit and rented a place with decent security—an apartment with auto-lock and reasonably reliable safety features.
Back then, I hadn’t even finished unpacking. Even after work, I would quietly continue sorting through things.
Since it was my first time living alone, I had brought in a huge amount of stuff. I also wanted to make the apartment stylish, so I fussed over the layout and couldn’t decide anything.
And every time I came across a photo album, a book, or a manga with memories attached, I would stop to look at it, making the process slower and slower.
That day, before I realized it, I had been working for five hours, and it was already 2 a.m.
Thinking it was about time to sleep, I turned off the music I had been playing as background for organizing, and that’s when I noticed a loud noise coming from outside.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
I had no idea how long it had been going on, but the sound was regular, like something being struck repeatedly.
I wondered if it was some kind of late-night road construction, but all I could hear was that pounding.
I tried to ignore it and went back under the covers, closing my eyes.
But the bang! bang! kept me awake.
I went out onto the balcony to check outside.
I looked all around, but there was nothing. And I felt like the sound was coming from a different direction.
I tried again to go back to sleep, but it was too loud—I couldn’t.
Calming myself, I tried to figure out where the noise was coming from.
It seemed to be coming from the front door.
Summoning my courage, I peeked through the peephole. I saw a shadow against the wall between my apartment and the next one.
I couldn’t see clearly, but it was moving in small, jittery motions.
Curious, I slowly opened the door a little while keeping the chain on to get a better look.
It was a man of average build, facing the wall, repeatedly banging his head against it with all his might.
Blood was pooling on the floor.
His head appeared dented.
And from that dent, more blood was streaming down.
The man noticed me, turned his blood-covered face toward me, and grinned creepily.
I slammed the door shut with all my strength. The noise stopped, but worried, I immediately called the police.
In less than five minutes, the police arrived.
They checked outside, but said there was no one hitting their head against the wall.
They said there were no pools of blood on the floor.
When I looked for myself, there really was no trace of blood anywhere.
Terrified, I immediately moved back to my parents’ house.
When I told my friends about it, they mocked me, saying maybe I had seen a ghost.
Sure, maybe it wasn’t a real person since the blood and the man disappeared entirely.
But even if it was a ghost, why would it repeat such a meaningless act…
Even now, the image of that blood-covered man’s face sometimes flashes before my eyes.
