Remi plot sits right in the centre of the greater Dome city. The blocks surrounding it are filled with all sorts of stores, parlours, salons, bookstores, sports halls, music shops boutiques, furniture stores you name it. People from all walks of life bustle around this hotspot day and night. 

MISKI was numbered 324. It was a large multistorey complex with four wings. They formed a square and surrounded a small garden called Everknot. 

The buildings were of a burnt red colour with rusty pipes and whatnot bits hanging around most corners. Its electrical wires ran haphazardly through the maze of the walls, twisting and turning at awkward bends. The drainage system was old and outdated but the city council had not yet come up with a plan to tackle such a massive project in the heart of the city. 

The building had four sets of staircases, one for each wing. On the rear of each building ran a set of emergency stairs. The block had six floors. Each floor had a corridor facing the garden below and doors on the inside. In total, more than two hundred apartments lined these age-worn hallways. 

The East Wing was the newest one, it had been added a decade ago. Most of its inhabitants were young families whose children often played at Everknot. These families were from a working-class background and toiled hard to provide for their loved ones. Many of them lived with extended family members. One could always find someone’s grandmother sweeping outside the door or a grandpa smoking in the hallway. 

 The South Wing hosted all sorts of nationalities and immigrants from various countries. Some poor some well off. This wing was an amalgam of multiple cultures. Languages of all sorts were spoken there. Walking through the corridors one could smell foods of all kinds. Some kind on the nostrils some not. This myriad of nationalities had come together accommodating under one roof to live in peace and respect each other’s spaces. Rarely any arguments broke out and if they did, they were settled amicably. 

The North Wing was where most of the older families lived. These houses had been passed down from one generation to the other. As expected, this wing showed heavy signs of use and was weathered rough by age and elements. The stairs and hallways here were dusty, the paint peeling off most corners. The inhabitants of these generational homes seldom lived in them. Most of the young men and women who had inherited these apartments stayed overseas.

The West Wing was perhaps the most mysterious. Damaged by an electrical fire a few decades ago it was still under renovation. Its doors and windows were all boarded up and the corridors had been sealed off by tapes. Teenagers often sneaked in there to smoke or drink away from the prying eyes of the seniors. 

It was a rainy day. Children in the garden below scuttered off quickly, although some were still jumping around. It had been a hot summer and anything cool was welcome. But at this moment there was a chill in the air. A chill which none of the residents of the buildings could understand. The rain wasn’t warm or welcoming, rather it seemed to carry an icy sting. 

On the sixth floor of the west wing leaning on the corridor edge stood a woman. She seemed unbothered by the rain and the wind. She pulled out a pale hand from her sleeve and slipped out a metal pouch. She clicked it open with her long fingernails. Inside were eight neatly lined and rolled cigarettes. She pulled one out and lit it. She took a puff but there was no smoke. The woman closed the pouch and flicked the cigarette high into the air. Leaning out, as she was about to grab it, her grip slipped, and she started falling. Dress dancing in mid-air hands flying about she screeched a high-pitched laugh and then a snap, the sound of spine cracking the body had hit a tree branch, the back folding in half. Children and adults rushed over to the spot where they had heard the sound but there was nothing in sight. Neatly on a flower bed lay an empty steel pouch wet under the falling rain. 

Ten Months later….

Jeremy lived on the fourth floor of the East Wing. He was in his room. A rhomboid-shaped dwelling. Walls covered by movie posters of all kinds. Most depicted horror characters. Werewolves, Vampyrs, trolls, wraiths, serial killers, and all sorts of macabre. On the far side of the room was a large glass-panned window which opened onto the emergency staircase landing. In the centre of the room stood a foldable table. On it was the latest project that he was working on. An animatronic life-sized headless doll. Around his room were all sorts of grim books, figures, and other paraphernalia. Jeremy lay on his bed, covers pushed aside working on his laptop. Headphones on, he was working tirelessly on a new soundtrack which he wanted to pair up with his doll. 

Knock Knock. There was a tap on the door. Jeremy looked up. It must be Henry. He called for him to come inside. “It’s locked you dumbass,” shouted Henry. Jeremy jumped up and unlatched it. 

Henry walked in slowly, eyes down on his phone. “Any update on our post?” asked Jeremy. Henry looked up, the window was spotless and then his gaze fell on its half-open frame. “Why in hell did you keep your window open in the freezing morning?” he asked running across the room. Henry slammed the pane shut and locked it. “Must have forgotten” mumbled Jeremy still focusing on his laptop. Jeremy and Henry were avid posters of their horror stories on various social media platforms. “Nah, not much traffic, only fifteen responses” muttered Henry. They had spent a good two weeks brainstorming their latest story. The story revolved around a small mystery town based on a fictional island. Henry slowly wandered towards the bed and plopped down on the hard mattress. He groaned and jumped up quickly massaging back. “Bloody hell man don’t leave your action figures lying about the room” he sneered. Jeremy did not reply, he was too focused on his latest track to care about anything. Henry approached him slowly and then smacked him on the head. “Asshole!” screamed Jeremy as he hurriedly shut his computer. There was a knocking sound, “Come in!” he shouted. His mother gently turned the knob and entered carrying in a tray of food. “I thought you boys may want to eat something hot in this horrid weather”. Both the teens jumped up and scooted over to grab whatever they could. After what seemed like just five minutes they sleepily slumped over the bed. “I ate too much,” said Henry. “I probably won’t need lunch now” mumbled Jeremy as he slowly got up. There was another knock. Henry looked up hopefully expecting some hot chocolate, but Jeremy shouted, “No Mom! We are full”. There was no reply. Henry gingerly walked over to the door and opened it, but Jeremy’s mom wasn’t there. 

The knocking grew louder. Both the boys looked around the room questionably. No one noticed the black charred hand attempting to unlatch the window. Their gaze fell on the said window, a crow stood there pecking on the glass, probably trying to escape the cold. 

Henry crossed the room and gently tried to open the lock. The bird watched on hopefully. “How do you unlock this dam thing” he shouted back to Jeremy who was now dozing half-minded on the bed. There was a rush of cold air as the window burst open. Henry stumbled backwards and landed on his back, dazed he looked outside but the bird seemed to have flown off. He stumbled across the messy room shut the frame tightly and muttered a few curses under his breath. He did not notice the half part of the crow’s leg bleeding on the stairs. Blood still pulsating, the claws retracted as if they had held something. 

Upwards and outside the window a black shadow held the mutilated bird in her jaws. 

She was gripping the vertical wall with both her feet and one hand. She lowered her head and neck, hair flowing down she looked through the glass. The boys with their backs facing the window were laughing about something. 

 She grinned; her smile spread from ear to ear revealing a sharp row of canines. She moved one foot up and then the other and crawled up to the next floor. All she had to do was wait. 

Henry and Jeremy both lay stretched on the bed. Trying not to doze off they kept on refreshing their feed on the apps. They finally managed to get off their butts and strolled down towards the living room. Both decided that they needed some fresh air and mumbled some excuse to Jeremy’s mum. Once outside, they made their way to the staircase balcony on the uppermost floor. From here you can get a full view of all the wings. Everknot lay sprawled beneath them. A few kids were playing on the swings, tightly clad in windcheater jackets. But since the garden was surrounded by buildings on all sides, there was hardly any breeze. 

Henry reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes while Jeremy produced a matchbox. Both smoked quietly in the abandoned corridor. All wings were connected by the adjacent corridors, all you had to do was walk over to the next bend. 

They both stood there smoking happily discussing their upcoming story. Finally, Henry crushed his cigarette with his right foot and gazed outside at the west wing. All was normal. 

Jeremy finished his smoke and likewise bent down to squash the ashes when he noticed black charred markings on the floor. “Someone else been smoking here?” he asked loudly. 

“I don’t think anyone comes here much,” said Henry. He bent down to look closely. It was ash alright, but not from cigarettes, it was much too darker. “Hey man, swing your phone light this way” he beckoned to Jeremy. As they looked on, they saw one more ash print a foot away and another after that. As they looked closely, they could see that the prints were shaped like feet. 

Henry felt a movement in his stomach which had nothing to do with their brunch. Jeremy on the other hand was intrigued. They showed their light further on where the footprints were placed but they seemed to slowly descend down the dark corridor and turn away on the bend. 

“Found something?” came a voice hoarse behind them. They both jumped. Heart thumping, they looked back at an old man standing there. With a cane in one hand and a cigar in the other. He gazed at them apprehensively. “Smoking, eh? Calm down I won’t tell your folks “He muttered. His eyes fell on the phone’s flash which was still pointing towards the ash footprint. “She’s still mucking about I see” he said as a cloud of smoke came out of his lungs. 

“She usually never leaves her wing, unless it is urgent or important,” said the old man, talking to himself mostly. Henry found his voice at last and asked, “Who’s she?” 

The old man looked at him hard and said “The west wing was home to many young families who had settled there after the war. People living happily with their newborns, hoping to forget the trauma of the past. The wing was young and freshly constructed then and was full of delightful children. Their laughter echoing through the walls”. 

Henry, heart beating faster asked “But the wing has been all cleared up after the fire. I heard there were no casualties”. The old man looked hard at him and said “It was all an effort to keep quiet and peace. People had happily moved on with their lives and no one wanted to remember the death of a young mother and her child”. 

“After a while, no one could bear to place a step into that wing. They all felt a chill and heaviness in their hearts if they tried,” said the old man. “The Husband distraught with grief jumped off from this very spot we are standing now. She still comes out of her house to stand here and wait for him”. 

Henry looked like he was about to vomit. Bile was reaching up to his throat. Jeremy asked, “Do other inhabitants know about this? They never once mentioned it before”. “I doubt it,” said the old man holding his cane. His gaze flickered off into the dark emptiness behind the boy’s back. His face went pale white, and the knuckles gripping the cane turned a shade of purple. 

“You need to leave, NOW!” he boomed. “Go away! There’s nothing left here for you here now!”. The boys looking alarmed turned to face where the man was looking. It was empty and dark. 

Then he said hurriedly “You boys better go down to your rooms and stay in for a while”. 

The old man, shuffling, slowly stepped back, his eyes still focused on the darkness of the corridor beyond. The boys quickly scampered off along with him.