Horror Story

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This story starts with a leak.

A man, let’s call him John, is living in an apartment alone.

The rainy season began in early summer, and June had been no exception. It did not surprise John when he discovered rainwater dripping from his dining room ceiling. Shrugging it off, he placed a tall pot beneath the leak and expected it to stop on its own. However, it continued to rain, and before he knew it, the pot was threatening to overflow. He had to dump the water out first thing in the morning and straight after he returned home from work. It was becoming a hassle. Eventually, he began to notice water damage where the leak was coming from. A ring on the pearl white ceiling looked a dull shade of brown. He checked the weather and realized that it would continue to rain over the next ten days. John was worried about the ceiling mildewing and becoming an expensive repair, so he called someone to come fix it, hoping that money wouldn’t become an issue.

The repairman couldn’t sign to have the repairs done. Only his landlord could. John called his landlord but couldn’t reach him. He left him a few voicemails, detailing how the damage was becoming progressively worse. John was clueless as to why his landlord would not return his calls. They usually spoke at least twice a month. Finally, he reasoned that he would not be held accountable for any damages because it wasn’t under his control.

One night, John was startled awake by a loud noise. He quickly turned on his bedside lamp, and just vaguely, he could see an overturned table and a large shape laying across it. He sprung out of his apartment and called the police, gagging at the smell.

John sat in the police station with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and a coffee mug resting in his hands. There had been a dead body in his ceiling, and the water had saturated it so badly that it caved under the weight hence the loud thump. So far, the body was unidentifiable due to the rainwater and was being autopsied. While the man waited, he called his landlord and finally reached him, panicking as he explained the situation. His landlord was just as alarmed, and John pleaded for him to come to the station while he made his statement. John paused as a detective crossed over to him, and he lowered his phone, wondering if the body had been identified. His blood ran immediately cold, and he shook his head with terror. The body belonged to Richard Thompson, his landlord, and he died over a year ago. That’s not even what disturbed him the most: if his landlord was dead, then who was pretending to be him?

All thanks go to creepypasta for this story.

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