The apartment above

When the tenant in 3B stopped making noise, nobody noticed at first.

The old brick building had thin walls. You could always hear someone. The couple in 2A argued at midnight. The guy in 1C played jazz way too loud. And in 3B — directly above mine — there was always this dragging sound. Like furniture being moved at odd hours.

Until last week. Silence.

At first, it was a relief. I finally slept without waking to those scraping noises. But then I realized — I never actually saw the person in 3B. Not once in the three months I’d lived here. No deliveries. No lights on. Just that constant dragging, like someone rearranging a body-sized dresser every night.

So I asked my landlord.

“There’s no one in 3B,” he said.

I laughed. Thought it was a joke.

But he didn’t smile. “That unit’s been empty for a year. Water damage. You’d smell it if someone moved in.”

I didn’t believe him. Not until I saw the door. The lock was rusted shut. Dust thick on the doorknob. No footprints. No sign of entry.

Still, I heard it last night. The scraping started again. Closer. Slower.

I called the cops. They checked the unit.

Empty.

Just a single, deep gouge in the hardwood floor. Like something heavy had been dragged across it again and again. The officer shined his light on it and said, “Could be rats.”

That night, the dragging didn’t come from above.

It came from inside my closet.

(This is a quick AI generated Story, to test the waters.)