Think before you start, you need to make a small clarification. I’m a little obsessed with weapons and all sorts of survival strategies, tactical gear, binoculars, flashlights, and other things. This kind I have quite a lot, but the gem is the rifle Remington 700-th models (it is legal to buy in Russia after five years of ownership gladkostvol). To it I have a couple of very good optical sights – one powerful, the other weaker. Not that I’m some nutcase, but, well, I like to feel prepared for trouble in these troubled times. Well, it is, as I said, backstory.
The story itself is. I had time to rent an apartment in one of the districts of the North-East district of Moscow. Took it off due to production needs, long stay there was not going to, so that the contract entered into for a couple of months only. The apartment was on the top floor of a twelve-story building – the view from the Windows would be gorgeous, if not for one thing. On the contrary, about two hundred yards stood another twelve-story building, and but him out of the window I could hardly see anything. My apartment was cheap, even the TV wasn’t there. Internet I there, too, wasn’t going anyway soon to move out, so entertainment was, frankly, not much. As luck would have it, and the work was less than I thought, so I spent the evening reading, and then when it gets dark, took up the rifle and played a staring contest. It’s fun I thought of on the third day of your stay in the apartment. I set up the scope, looking through it into the street, he estimated the distance to different objects that accidentally looked in a few Windows and somehow got carried away. Then I got to the window, a Desk, mounted on his Remington with optics and through a crack in the drawn curtains began to study the occupants of the house opposite. Since I spend almost every night.
Of course, you can condemn me, and I agree with you. To look at people through the crosshairs and not let the loaded rifle is not good, but hell, once tasted, I could not stop. The house next door was just the throng of colorful characters. And if a man from the sixth floor, every night watching porn, quickly tired, the small boy-karate on the ninth staging a ruthless daily exercise in the kitchen, and the young couple with the seventh are my favorites. A couple of this, by the way, was very hot for a few days that I watched them, they fucked all ways known to me, and obviously was not going to stop. And they don’t seem to know how their bedroom turned off the light. Watching them can be infinite, I was hoping to learn from them. Were still alcoholics, only interested in his drunken fights, divorcee with children, more or less a normal family, whatever. But the story is not about them.
Once during the regular “peepers” I accidentally looked out the window on the eighth floor, which had not particularly looked. I saw an almost empty room, lit only hanging from the ceiling light, the door was firmly closed. In the corner stood the bed on which the classic yoga pose sitting. He caught my attention with its stillness, and I decided to watch it. The man was sitting with his back to the window and looked at the wall. He was very skinny, pale and tall, completely bald head seemed disproportionately large, the shirts and pants on it was not. Five minutes I gazed at him, but he never moved. I have translated a sight at a wall, where he watched the wall, as far as I could see, was empty – no pictures, no carpets, faded Wallpaper stripped in places. I looked around the gun room – nothing too interesting: a couple of chairs, a coffee table with a pile of Newspapers, an old chair, a small rug on the floor by the bed. At the closed door I noticed some strange vertical stripes and all. I decided that the man simply meditates and any jokes from him is not worth waiting, then switched to his beloved karate as he warmed up before the next workout.
Two hours later, when and a young fighter, and restless couple finished their performance, I once again order looked in to yoga. He was sitting in the same position, staring at a wall. After waiting 30 seconds, I removed the rifle and went to bed.
I probably would have forgotten about all of it, if after a couple of days by mistake again not looked in to this yoga. I haven’t seen anything new, and I somehow pissed off. Frankly, I have earnestly believed that each occupant of the house opposite every evening obliged to entertain me. And this guy just sat and stared. Maybe not watched, but, for example, was sitting asleep. And he may not be alive? I mean doll. And yeah, oak gave? Meditated-meditated, and went to the astral plane. In General, I was interested in it. For an hour I watched him – he did not move. Exactly doll. Moreover, such thin and tall, a huge head, skin pale, her hands seem almost to his knees… Such people don’t exist! But what makes this doll? This room is a prop? Where are the other things? Why no one comes? The apartment is empty? Then who turned on the light? I visited a nearby window. Right, as I see the layout clearly the other apartment, there lives a family with two young children. And on the left are dark, the lights are off. Okay. I decided to distract, but neither karate nor lovers naturalists me that night was not pleased.
The next day I came home from work early and immediately clung to the sight. Sitting, you bastard. In the same position. Although, like, a little to the side now turned. So something is still happening.
I watched all evening. Even the toilet did not depart. Sit. I looked down the sights. And he sits. Look at the wall. Like, breathing barely. Or I think. When sick eyes, I spat and went to bed.
In the morning before going to work again he looked. Unchanged.
So I watched him for a week. A couple of minutes in the morning and a few hours in the evening. From time to time his situation was a bit changed, but how and when it happened – I have not seen. One day I came home from work and saw that he had changed the sheets on the bed! And then I decided to make the bastard round the clock surveillance.
I fussed all night, but the result satisfied me. The rifle on the bipod I pointed at the window, and to the eyepiece of the scope using the tripod failed the camera lens. Video, she wrote directly on the hard disk of a laptop, so you can see what happened in those few hours that I’m at work. In the morning I again checked everything and pressing “record” on the camera, left the house.
The first day I was disappointed. Camera honestly wrote everything down, and yogi all eight hours of video honestly sat on the bed, motionless. I barely had the patience to repeat the entire procedure for the next day.
The second time I was lucky. In the evening, by watching the video, I saw 14 hours, 17 minutes door to yoga was opened and it included a woman with a tray in his hands. At first, I decided that she would feed him, but on the tray there was almost nothing. I saw only a vial and several small boxes. The woman slowly walked over to yoga and put the tray in front of him on the bed. Some time she stood and looked at him. I thought they were talking to, but looking closely, he saw that her lips do not move. Then she began to RUB his left hand, and then for a few seconds intensely bowed before him. What she was doing, considered it was impossible, as stirred the thin back yoga, but it looks like she gave him a shot in the arm. At least I have that impression. Then it kind of sideways, went to the window, opened the window and lit a cigarette. Smoked a cigarette, she closed the window and grabbed the tray, walking backwards, left the room, closing the door behind him. Nothing more happened. Looking up from the monitor, I looked in sight – everything in the room was exactly like the last frame of the recording. If not, I would never have known that there was someone here.
I again reviewed the video. Was it something strange. Even frightening. Although it would seem, all is clear. Sitting on the bed, pale, skinny dude, that is probably down or something, comes to him is his nurse, or something, makes a shot, smokes a cigarette, goes. I reviewed the video again. And again. So nothing is decided, I checked again in the sight of his ward (seated, bastard) and went to bed.
For the next week, using their surveillance system I found that:
a) a woman with a tray came in the room twice a day, about 14-15 hours, it makes a shot, smokes a cigarette and goes;
b) seem to have more in the room nothing happens!
However, all of this started becoming an obsession. First, I never saw him change the sheets. Second, I realized what was strange about the behavior of women. I saw how she’d come to his room three times and never for a second did she turned back to him.
I watched him for a few weeks, almost scored a job. During this time he once again changed the sheets, but I never saw it. Don’t know how it happened, if only at night when I slept. I also found out that a couple of times a week a woman from his apartment somewhere to go for 30-40 minutes. I saw her out of the door and comes back with a couple of packages. A few times I was able to follow her – she went to the nearest grocery store, and on the way back went to the pharmacy. I tried to find out what she bought at the pharmacy, but the check she took with me, and to ask the pharmacist I was hesitant.
Every two days a woman came to his room, did a shot, smoked a cigarette, came out. She never turned away from him. I have thoroughly studied his room. I thought a lot about the strip on the door about stripped Wallpaper. Strip on the doors are stripped of paint. And stripped it the same as the Wallpaper on the walls – the nails on his hands. I didn’t have any reason to think so, but other explanations I have not found. He started to scare me. I looked at him through the scope for hours staring him in the head, and he just sat on his bed in the corner. It was especially creepy to see in the apartment next door the little children playing and jumping on the couch, and behind the wall, actually a few feet from them, sitting on the bed this monster.
I realized that I needed to do something, but couldn’t think what. To call the police? And what to tell them? Well, they will arrive, will call at the door, they will not open, and then what?
I’m all worn out. Scoured the Internet, but in addition to the standard horror stories, found nothing (although one pasta, I think it had to do with this). Tried to learn something from the inhabitants of the house, but seem to be about him no one knew anything. In the end, I decided on the most stupid act in your life.
I prepared well, took a couple of my best knives, traumatic revolver, a mask in order to hide the face, lock picks, flashlight, firecrackers to divert attention, a smoke bomb. I stuffed it all in his pockets, trying not to look suspicious and not rattling around with each step, then went outside, sat on a bench near the entrance and waited. If me this moment he decided to get the cops, I would be through the roof. Sometimes I regret that this did not happen.
The joke was that then, sitting on the bench, I had no idea that they are going to do.
40 minutes later I saw a woman from that apartment came out of the house and went on his usual way towards the store. About half an hour I was definitely. I got up and went to the entrance from which she came.
Up on the eighth floor. The hall door was not locked and I opened it. I was in the middle of the dimly lit corridor, one end of which was incredibly cluttered. Along the walls were metal back from the bed, a Bicycle without wheels, skis, sledges, some dusty boxes, fragments of wooden furniture, and there was a wheelchair. For some reason it caught my attention. Figuring that interested me the apartment is just as cluttered the end of the corridor I held my breath, went there. Here it is, covered with brown oilcloth door, apartment number 41. Door handle, keyhole, eye – nothing special. I stopped a few feet from the door, trying to gather my thoughts. What am I doing here? What are you going to do? I shook uncontrollably. I just stood and stupidly looked from the door to the wheelchair and back. At some point, I suddenly realized that in addition to his heavy wheezing you hear something else. I held my breath and listened.
“Shaaark… Shaaark…”
The sound came from behind the door 41 apartments and is clearly approaching. Before I realized it, the sounds subsided. Came the tense silence. Thoughts in my head slowly moved. It dawned on me that I heard his shuffling footsteps. He went to the door and now standing behind her. He’s the fucking at me through the peep hole watching!
At this moment the door handle began to spin quickly, and the door from the inside, looks like a good bulk, judging by the way she cracked. I as you here put it, shat bricks, and that was the spirit ran out. Down from the eighth floor – I don’t remember one thing very quickly. Just ran out of the house was able to pull myself together. Was smart enough not immediately to his house to run, and to make a detour around the block, confuse the tracks. At home I was in 10 minutes. Not taking off her shoes, ran into the room, grabbed the rifle, put the sight on his window.
And here I was scared for real. He stood at the window, clawing at the hands on glass and I’ll be damned if he wasn’t staring right at me. I only saw him for a second, but what I saw will never forget. Thin elongated body, through the pale skin stood out bones, long hands, his crooked fingers scratching on the glass, on a huge almost white, hairless head, tiny ugly noseless face two big dark eyes and a mouth without lips. His hands moved, his mouth opened and closed leaving the glass wet footprints, and his eyes looked exactly at me. I just felt that look.
You know, although at the moment my mind was paralyzed with shock, but his body knew what to do. As in a dream, I recoiled from the window and rushed to the closet, where I was a box of cartridges. After ten seconds, I’m back already with a loaded Remington. I didn’t care after that. Twitching shutter, I snapped and quickly took the window on sight. In the crosshairs I saw only swaying tightly drawn curtains.
I moved out of their apartment the same day. Paid the owner, he asked no questions, and I was grateful to him for that. Focusing on the work, I lived for several months, all was forgotten. Sometimes I think about him. I understood why he was sitting face to the wall – its so planted. Specifically, that he did not see other people. Who is he? I don’t know. If he’s dangerous? I believe that of course.
Sometimes I see him in my dream. He’s scratching at my door and I look at him in the eye. And my rifle in these dreams over and over again misfires.
I don’t like that I saw. Am I afraid? I have weapons and I can handle myself, but I’d be lying if I say that I’m not afraid.
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