The New Apartment, Old Head

​I couldn’t wait to move into my own place. I was one of those kids who couldn’t wait to get out from under my parent’s ever prying eyes while in high school and also the sort of kid who couldn’t wait to get away from the loud and rambunctious environment of college dorms. I was just starting my junior year and made enough money working two part time server jobs to pay for a small apartment. I went through a dozen or so different ads and walk-throughs of places before I finally found the one that I knew I could see myself living in.

​It was a one bed one bath in an older part of the city. The landlord said that they had recently done a lot of renovating in the units and that I was getting a bit of a steal rent wise if I decided to move in. They were planning on raising the price the following month to make up for the cost of the renovations. I liked the location and I really liked the apartment. So I agreed to sign a six month lease and was all set to make it my own the next weekend.

Since my university isn’t anywhere near my old hometown, I got some friends of mine from school to help me pack up my things and move in to the new place. I agreed to buy them some beer for their troubles, and that seemed to motivate them to rush getting everything off the truck and upstairs. It only took a couple of hours and just a few more after that for me to unpack and get settled in.
The place really seemed great, at first. It had that classic old style layout, but with modern furnishings and fresh paint. I couldn’t believe how lucky I was to have found such a wonderful and quint home so close to the school. That is, until I found the head in my cupboard. The awful, haggard, horrible old head.

 I had finally gotten to the box of dishes in the process of putting things away when I first opened that cupboard. I didn’t even look in at first, as I was bending down to pick up some plates. But as stood back up to place them in, I saw perhaps the most terrifying thing I’ve ever seen and ever will see. It was the dismembered head of an older woman, eyes wide open and mouth agape, starring back at him with almost the same look of shock I imagine I had on my own face. Her skin was wrinkled and pale, her neck oozed rotten black blood, and her hair was twisted into disheveled knots. Had it not been for the look on her face, I would have assumed it was an actual human head.
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 I let out a bellow of a scream, as did the head, and I slammed the door just about as quickly as I ran out of that apartment. Needless to say, I was quick to get my deposit back and move someplace that had less heads in the cabinets. I never told anyone the real reason I left, I made up a story about seeing cockroaches in the sink, and tried all I could to forget about that apartment and that head.

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