Home > Uncategorized > My Neighbor’s Place is Haunted…

My Neighbor’s Place is Haunted…

Disclaimer:  I totally believe in this shit.  Ever since my father would tell me stories about Pikeville’s Creekmore Mansion (or Creepmore Mansion depending on who you talk to) I have had a firm belief in the afterlife, spiritual and otherwise.  There are many many stories from my past and present that cement my belief but those are stories for another time.  This one is about my next door neighbor.

I moved into my present apartment in 2004-ish.  Nice place, quiet neighborhood, and other than the guy in my neighboring apartment having one of every bird known in existence, it’s a pretty nice place to live.  My driveway is a shared one with the house next door.  It’s a duplex and there’s also a single bedroom apartment attached to the back side of the duplex.  There’s a small yard back there with a Lemon Tree.  It’s almost like it’s its own small house.  It has it’s own address; there’s a stoop and a backyard.  It’s quaint.  When I moved into my place there was an old woman living there.  To the best of my knowledge she owned the place and the duplex it sat behind for several years.  I was in my apartment for maybe 2 months when she took ill and put in the hospital where she eventually died of lord knows what.  Her children sold the duplex and adjoining apartment to someone and most likely washed their hands of it.

A couple of months after her death a miserable, hateful individual named David moved into the old woman’s single apartment behind the duplex and began his reign of terror on Magnolia Blvd shortly afterward.  I observed this gentleman on numerous occasions in shouting matches with the occupants of the duplex in front of his place for various things.  Someone was being too loud, someone’s dog crapped in his flowerbed, and someone slammed his or her doors too often.  The man was very high strung.  I attempted to introduce myself on two non-consecutive occasions only to change my mind when I found him yelling on his cell phone or in the middle of a shouting match.  The guy was obviously a piss pot.

This is where the story gets a bit embarrassing, as I’m not terrifically proud of my actions, but what can you do.  I got a phone call from my old roommate Luke as I was leaving for work this particular day and was asking him about various NYC things as I was backing my car out of the driveway.  Bare in mind this is a shared driveway between my apartment building and the duplex next door.  I have the first parking space, so when I leave, I back into their side of the driveway and pull out head first… sorta like a 3 point turn or K-Turn for our friends in the Northeast.  As I was backing into their driveway I hear shouting “HEY, HEY YOU FUCKER! HEY!”  I turned my head and this jackass was screaming at me.  I asked Luke to hold on a second and rolled down my window and cordially smiled at this asshole and asked what was up.  He persisted in yelling at me that this was HIS driveway and he didn’t want me backing into it anymore, that I had almost his is luggage last week.  I smiled and attempted to explain to the guy that it was a shared driveway and I had been backing into it for 5 years (big fat lie) and that if he didn’t like it he could take it up with his super.  As he continued to reign down verbal blows I became frustrated.  I was on the phone and this guy is screaming for no good reason so I did what any well-adjusted man in my situation would do.  I told him, and I quote “Look man, I’m on the phone, and you’re being a dick.  If you want to talk like a human being about this I get home from work at 9 but if not you can fucking drop dead.”

Bad form, I know.  He flipped me off as I tore ass out of my driveway because to be quite honest, I wasn’t sure if this cat was going to try to kick my ass or not and I went about my normal day and didn’t hear a peep out of him that night or the next.  As a matter of fact I forgot about this asshole altogether after two or three days and called it fortuitous that our paths hadn’t crossed since the incident.  About a week later I saw folks moving David’s stuff out of his apartment and I asked if he was moving.  As it turns out, he had died of a heart attack sometime after our confrontation.  I felt terrible at first but his sister (who was moving his stuff) told me that poor David was particularly high strung and had a history of high blood pressure verbal bombardments and had had a heart attack not two years before.  He was supposed to be living quietly and taking it easy.

I did not tell his sister about me telling him to drop dead, as I assume none of you would.  But I felt terrible about the situation.  I know I didn’t have anything to do with his death directly… or at least I hope I didn’t.  Needless to say I haven’t told anyone to drop dead since, but I digress.  After his unfortunate demise, that apartment has had a string of occupants, all in and out in the course of a few months.  A young couple moved in shortly after him and was gone in 4 months.  I never spoke to them but heard weird noises from the apartment sporadically.  After they moved out a single dude moved in and left in 3 months.  Then the newest tenant moved in about 6 months ago.  She is a lovely Armenian woman whose name escapes me.  We’ve chatted from time to time.  Her uncle, it turns out, was the guy who bought the place from the old woman’s family and she was living there rent-free for a while.  I’ve borrowed lemons from her lemon tree, (which made me sick as hell by the way) and talked to her about her boyfriend.  She complained to me on several occasions about hearing noises at her front door and bedroom windows.  Enough incidents to make her have her boyfriend set up closed circuit cameras on her front door and back windows.  I thought it might have been the guy who I catch rummaging through my trash bin but she told me that the cameras never capture anything.  But she was confident that she wasn’t crazy and was dead set on finding out what was freaking her out.

This past weekend I saw another woman moving stuff out of the apartment and asked about the young lady’s whereabouts, as I hadn’t seen her in a while and her car has remained parked for weeks.  This new girl moving out the stuff told me that the girl living there had disappeared.  Her family has no idea where she is.  She left her stuff, her car, her cat, (who had almost died of starvation) and vanished from the face of the earth.  Now I’m a believer.  That place is cursed!  I struggled for two days internally as to whether or not to tell this lady NOT to move into this place, to burn it to the ground and never look back.  But, as she was just moving stuff out of the place, I didn’t.  If someone is to move in, I may say something.  I smoke out back from time to time and last night could’ve sworn I saw shadows roll past the vacant window inside.  The back property smells like ash, the lemons growing from the tree are twice their normal size and probably poisoned, and nothing planted in that flowerbed sprouts.  Hell, even the garden hose hooked up to the place has unusually been sucked into the soft dirt below the front door, as if trying to commit itself back to the earth in a desperate attempt to disconnect itself from the evil inside this miserable dwelling.  I have no idea who haunts this domicile.  But rest assured, its not a friendly spirit and when it comes time for me to move on and leave Magnolia Blvd once and for all, I have serious reservations about leaving without burning that place to cinders, protecting future innocents from the evil lurking within.

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