Inhospitable (a.k.a. Part One of My 2020 Trilogy of Halloween Tales)

Little red specks on my ceiling fan. Could be blood but I can't get up there to check, not since my hip replacement.

            You can't say anything to her upstairs. Well, she's young, pretty. A little disturbed, I think. One day I passed her in the hallway and I swear I've never seen skin look so sickly white. She wouldn't say a word to me. I don't think she even could. Something to do with addiction probably.

            The blood isn't the only thing, of course. More worrying are the strange moans that I can hear in the middle of the night. I never see any suitors go up, like you’d expect, so I suppose she’s alone. Then again the other voices are far too deep and real to just be her pretending, unless she’s got one of those megaphones that change pitch and tone. Still what would possess a young woman to go round behaving like that in her own flat?

            It's absolutely broken my sleep pattern but I've had to deal with her like before. This block has seen so many damaged young’uns pass through. Usually they start off well-mannered but then they go off their medication and start acting up.

            The lad who lived there before her had similar troubles though he scraped the floorboards with his well-bitten fingernails. It was horrific to see him being carted out like that, screeching through a foaming mouth. Definitely burned in my memory. God forbid if it happened again.

             I have thought about packing it all in, moving out but where would I find such a reasonably-priced studio with a view like this one? The woods look so striking this time of year. It’s all well and good to have pity but you also need to know when to stand your ground.

            I don't think it'll be long before this girl leaves. I just hope she hasn't lost too much blood by then. I'm an old woman: don't think I could see another child leave in pain.

            Maybe it’s time for a holiday if nothing else. These days we only ever seem to have stormy nights with lashing rain and howling wind. It's not at all good for the temperament.

            Oh. She's gone quiet. I'll just sneak into bed while it's still like this. You’ve got to be quick to get a peaceful night’s sleep around here.

            Still, as I touch the light switch, there it is again: drip, drip, drip on my ceiling fan.

            Lord above. What must be going on up there?