The Studio Viewing | Short Story Monday #2

Several months had passed on the search for my very own place on campus. I had seen a handful of shared rooms and single rooms. Today, I was viewing an on campus studio. I had dragged my friend Lottie along with me, and being the good friend that she is she had come with a smile. Lottie had already found her own place, it was a shared house off campus. She had invited me to take one of the rooms but I knew that I couldn’t do it. I liked my privacy, I liked having my own space, and I wanted to live on the safety of campus and not outside of its fences. Also, it was the deal my parents and I made, I could move out for college “but it has to be on campus”, I heard my dads voice nag in my head.

“Why the studio?” Lottie began, “It has communal bathrooms, you said you hated that type of thing.”

“I know, but I had read online great reviews of the place. Studio comes with it’s own mini kitchen, I don’t have to worry about other people’s messes. And yes, there are communal bathrooms, but from what I heard they are extremely clean. They get scrubbed by cleaners at least once a day.” I responded.

“Ah, that sounds wonderful, not having to wash your own bathrooms. The house shares I’m homing with have already started putting together chore charts and schedules. If you get this place, you’d be super lucky.” She said.

“I know, I worked so, so hard over the past two years to save up enough money for this. I know the on campus studios are super expensive, but it’s for my mental health, you know?”

“Sure, mental health is important.”

After walking down the narrow seventh lane of rows and rows of apartment building that all looked completely identical; white, bland, but with giant windows across the entirety of one side. And after entering building number five, of the seventh street. And then riding the elevator up to the 3^rd floor, and searching for apartment number 332. We knocked on the white metal framed door. We waited for about 15 seconds before finally hearing footsteps heading towards us. The handle turned, and the door swung open to reveal a short, middle aged woman with large, square framed glasses. She had dark brown hair and wisps of white growing out the sides. Dark bags and heavy wrinkles hung around her eyes.

“Hello, are you the 12:45 viewing?” the lady said. Her face contorting into a small fake smile.

I reached out my hand “Yes, I’m Megan, your voice doesn’t seem to unfamiliar, am I right in believing that we spoke over the phone yesterday? Are you Sharon?”

“Yes, that would be me. I handle all viewings and bookings at the moment. My colleague James has been off sick for the past 2 weeks. So I’ve been handing things all on my own.” She sighed, ignoring my hand.

She seemed to be complaining, which didn’t seem too professional. Ignoring the handshake also left me a little uncomfortable, but I shrugged it off.

“This is my friend Lottie, I hope it’s okay that she joins us?”

“Yes, that should be fine. Well hurry in, viewing time slots are 20 minutes, and we won’t be wasting any more time here chatting. I have another viewing soon, on the other side of the campus. So let’s move, move, move.”

Lottie and I looked at each other. She made an awkward “yikes” face at me and I couldn’t help but giggle. As we walked through the door Lottie leaned into my ear.

“What’s got her knickers in a twist?”

I grunted as I laughed and Sharon looked back at us over her shoulder. Looking around, the walls were bare, also white. On the left side of the studio lay a bed, bed covers neatly made, also white. The bedside table next to it, was also white. A large white wardrobe stood next to a white desk. Above the desk, two white shelves. On the other side of the room was a smallish kitchen which consisted of 2 white floor cabinets, a white mini fridge, and a white sink. Even the microwave which sat on top of on of the white counter tops was white. It reminded me of a hospital. Sharon had made her way towards the door, giving us space to walk around and check out the place.

“You have 15 minutes, ladies. I’ll leave you to it” She said, stepping outside.

Lottie walked towards the wall of glass. The thing that had hooked me about the studio. Looking through it there was a stark difference from within the studio and the courtyard outside. Looking down carpets and carpets of colourful flowers and greenery. A walk way ran around the oval pool of plants in the centre. And around the edges sat spruce wood benches. “I wouldn’t mind spending hours, and hours down there,” I thought to myself.

Lottie slowly reached out her hand and gently tugged on my shirt sleeve. I looked up at her face, her eyes wide, her face pale white.

“What is it?” I asked.

Her hand still gripping my sleeve now tightened. She raised her other hand and pointed across the way towards the other wall of glass. Across the courtyard were buildings number seven, eight and nine. Glass wall facing glass wall. It was strange to be able to look inside every single apartment. I could see a student sat at their desk. Other students were unpacking luggage bags. Another student was laying on one of the beds scrolling on their phone. This would be quite the invasion of privacy.

Lottie finally spoke, her voice low and cracking. “Do you see it?” she asked.

“See what Lottie? What’s wrong?”

“Her, do you see her?”

I looked at her and tried to work out the location where she was looking. I aimed my eyesight towards the right side of one of the apartments right in front of us. I focus, it was hard to see but after a while I finally noticed… a woman. No, the faint silhouette of a woman. She was crouched behind the bed, both of her hands gripping the bed, her head peeking up from behind the mattress, her eyes staring right at us. Her skin was pallid and somewhat see through.

“The lady behind that bed you mean?” I asked.

Her hand then moved to the apartment next to it... It pointed to the right side of that apartment... It pointed behind the bed. The silhouette of a woman, crouched behind the bed, head peaking, eyes staring. The same pale skin, the same wrinkled hands gripping the bed. She began to raise one of her hands when Lottie then moved her hand to the apartment next to that one too. Pointing to the right side of the room, on the other side of the bed. The same woman. Same dark eyes, same pale skin, same wrinkled hands, same dark hair… hand still climbing upwards to the ceiling, palm face outwards. I continued following Lottie’s pointed finger as she moved around each and every studio apartment across the way. In each one, the woman sat crouched behind the bed, her dark eyes staring right at us, her hand still rising up. The more I looked around the easier it was to notice her in each of the rooms. All the exact same. Her hand then abruptly came down on to the bed. Then the other hand began to raise too. In each apartment the woman was the exact same, moving exactly the same, staring exactly in the same direction. Her other hand came down abruptly on the bed too. She slithered and crawled her ghostly body slowly up on to the bed. And crouched there, still staring at us. Lottie’s hand gripped tighter, her acrylic nails now stabbing into my arm. I could feel her body shivering. Lottie was terrified. The woman then raised her hand again and began waving it at us as her head slowly tilted to one side. A wide grin stretched across her faint, colourless face.

“How is this happening?” I blurted.

“I don’t know” Lottie responded, her voice breaking, her body still shaking.

The woman crept sluggishly off the bed, limbs clicking as she moved. Once on the floor she began to crawl across the white floor. Her head and limbs snapping with each step forwards. Closer and closer to the wall of glass. Could no one else see her?

“Lottie... if she is in each and every apartment… doesn’t that mean that she’s also…?”

Lottie’s jaw dropped as we heard heavy breathing coming from right behind us.

The ghostly woman from across the way, face still grinning, stood near the large window, her wrinkled hands reaching out in front of her. I began to shake too as we both slowly turned behind us. The pale lady stood inches away from my face. One of her dry, cold hands sharply reached out for my neck.