The previous tenant of my new flat left a survival guide. Some people are too good for this world.

Last week, I moved into a new flat. It’s not much, but it’s home, and it’s a marked improvement over my last place. It’s also significantly cheaper than anywhere else that I looked at. The landlord seemed on edge when he showed me around the place. He kept glancing over his shoulder, muttered something under his breath about the neighborhood being a little rough, and hastily left as soon as I’d paid the first month’s rent. I thought nothing of it, too excited by my new circumstances to worry about the eccentricities of my landlord. It wasn’t until I was exploring the place that I found it- a small note, scribbled in multicolored crayon. ‘Dear new tenant, welcome to your new home! I’ve lived here for eight years. My name is Charlie. I’m happy to have lived here. There are some things that you need to know about the place. 1. No matter how loud you hear them, they won’t knock on your door. It’s what they want- don’t give them the satisfaction. 2. I know you’re wondering about the scrabbling. It’s the woman. She’s in the attic. Don’t check for yourself. I mean it. I saw her once. She’s not pretty, and she’s not human. I used to pity her, but not anymore. You’ll hear her sometimes, and if you’re lucky, you’ll catch glimpses of her out of your window in the middle of the night. Just leave her alone. 3. Watch out for the bakery van at around 12.30 a.m. It’s a trick. There’s no one in it, but the smell is tempting. Don’t give in. 4. Don’t throw anything down the sink. It’ll just come back. 5. I Pray. Pray as often as you can. It won’t save you, but it might just make it a little bearable. 6. Never ever look out of your window at around 3.33 a.m. 7. Don’t talk to the postman. He’s not what he seems, and he’ll lead you astray. 8. Keep your front door locked at all times. No exceptions. You never know when they’ll come for you. If they do, don’t struggle. Struggling only makes it worse. 9. Watch out for the flashlights in the garden. It’s okay if you see the two bright flashlights in the bushes at the bottom of the garden. It’s okay if whoever is holding them shines them at you. It’s alright. It’s nothing to be afraid of. Just close your curtains and go to sleep. They’ll get bored with you eventually. 10. Don’t go in the garden after dark. No exceptions. 11. You’ll see Imogen once every few months. She’s a little girl whose eyes are too big for her head. There’s something of the insect about her. Just be nice, let her inside, give her what she wants and let her go. Don’t try to help her, don’t try to take her away from whatever it is that has her. She’s gone. She’s been gone for a very long time. I hope she comes to visit you. She’s an old friend of mine. 12. If someone touches you, don’t brush it off. Whatever they touched is part of them now, and it will never be part of you again. They say that the devil himself was a toucher. They’re not wrong- I witnessed it myself. 13. The street performers are regulars. Ignore them. Don’t be fooled by their magic tricks and bright costumes. They’re old, and what’s on the outside counts for very little where they’re concerned. 14. Don’t leave notes. It’s pointless. No one will find them, and no one reads them anymore. 15. If they film you, don’t move. They aren’t really there. They don’t really see you. 16. If you’re called to dinner, don’t go. 17. Look out for Mr. Hemmings. He’s an old man with a beard, and he’s the kindest man you’ll ever meet. He’s lived here for as long as anyone can remember. I wish he was still alive when you moved in. You would have liked him. 18. If you find the photos, put them away. Don’t look at them. Don’t study them. Don’t try to figure out what happened to them. They aren’t yours, and they never will be. 19. If the postman gives you a letter that you can’t read, throw it away. If you read the letter, you won’t forget it. If you can’t read it, don’t try to find out more. Burn it. 20. When your time comes, don’t leave. You’ll know when it’s your time. There’s a certain feeling to it, and sometimes, if you’re lucky, you’ll be called to dinner. Don’t go. Where they want to take you is not somewhere that you want to go. If you’re reading this, then they’ve taken me away already. If you’re reading this, then I’m gone. That’s okay. I saw it coming. I saw it coming for a long time. Kill yourself before they take you away. Don’t let them take you. I should have killed myself a long time ago. I hope that you have a good life, new tenant. I hope you last longer than I did. Yours sincerely, Charlie. P.S. Don’t look behind you. He’s standing right behind you, and he can see exactly what you’re doing. Don’t look behind you. PPS. Consider living somewhere else. They won’t let you, once they know that you know. They won’t let you leave now. PPPS. Oh God oh God oh God oh-‘ The note ended abruptly, with no warning. I sat on my sofa, staring at it for a few moments, unsure of how to react. I folded it up and placed it on the coffee table, stood up, and walked to the window. I pulled the curtains shut. Charlie had seemed nice. I wished that I had met him. I lived in the flat for almost a year. Nothing strange happened, and I was grateful. I was sure that Charlie had been joking about the whole thing. It wasn’t until Imogen came that my opinions changed. Imogen was exactly as Charlie had described. She knocked on my door at around 8 p.m., smiled sweetly at me, and asked if she could come in and listen to some music. I didn’t know what to say. No one came to visit me, and I wasn’t exactly friends with the other tenants in the building. I stepped aside, and she came in. She walked into the living room, sat down on the sofa, and put a cassette into the stereo that I kept for decoration. She pressed play, and music filled the room. I recognised the song, but couldn’t place the singer. “Who is this?” I asked, breaking the awkward silence. “It’s Mr. Hemmings.” She replied, smiling at me. I noticed that her smile was not made up of lips. It was just a split in her face, and it did not quite reach her eyes, which were far too large for her head. “Could you get me a drink?” She asked. I faltered, unsure of how to reply. “And a snack?” She continued, leaning forward. Her smile grew wider. I nodded, and walked to the kitchen to find a snack for her. I opened a packet of crisps that I had bought earlier in the day, filled a plastic cup with water, and walked back to the living room. She was still sat on the sofa, still smiling widely, and her eyes seemed even larger than before. I sat back down next to her, and gave her the food and water that I had prepared for her. “Thank you.” She said, before turning back to the music and closing her eyes. The song ended, and she pressed play again. And again. And again. I watched as she smiled and listened to the music, her eyes closed, her smile consuming her face. I watched as her eyes grew larger, as her skin grew paler, as her teeth grew longer. I watched as she ate every last crisp, and as she drank every last drop of water. I watched as she absorbed into the music, her eyes flashing bright blue as the tape hissed and spat at her. I watched as the tape stopped hissing, as Mr. Hemmings’ voice stopped singing, and as the stereo stopped playing. And as the music stopped, Imogen was gone. I never saw her again, and I never found out what happened to her. I saw Charlie once, a few months before I moved out. I was walking down the street in the middle of the day, and I saw him. Charlie looked at me, smiled, and nodded before walking away. I tried to run after him, but he was too fast. He had gone before I’d even started to move. I ran back to the flatblock as fast as I could, but I never saw Charlie again. I moved out the next day. I decided that I couldn’t live there anymore, that I wasn’t strong enough to cope with the strange things that seemed to happen. I moved out the next day, and I never looked back.

The previous tenant of my new flat left a survival guide. Some people are too good for this world.

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