Apartment 308 Novels & Stories

Alex: “[The Elysian Residences] — 3-bedroom apartment available for rent. Fully furnished with appliances. Close to subway. Move-in ready. Price negotiable.” The caption was followed by nine stunning images of a sleek, modern apartment, perfectly staged with elegant furniture and tasteful decor. The aesthetic was minimalist yet chic—clean lines, muted colors, and large windows that allowed plenty of natural light. Emily stared at the pictures, the luxurious interiors stirring a sense of longing in her chest.

"Room 304." My stomach does a weird flip. Julian and I exchange quick glances but say nothing, both grabbing our keys from the front desk. We take the elevator up with a few other teammates, everyone tired and ready to drop their bags. The hallway on the third floor is carpeted and quiet, room numbers climbing as we walk. Room 304 is near the end. Julian unlocks it and pushes the door open. We both stop in the doorway, staring at the interior. One bed. Queen-sized, neatly made with white sheets and too many pillows. One bed instead of the two doubles that every other room apparently has.

The woman nodded firmly. She could tell that this young lady was in a hurry to find a place to stay. She pointed to the top two floors of the apartment and said, “We’re renting the top two floors. On the second floor, we have a bedroom, a small living room, and a bathroom. “There’s also a small office with a computer and a desk, so you can draw or do work inside. “The third-floor layout is similar to the second floor, but without the office. However, the third floor gets a lot of sunlight and has a good view of the area. Would you like to take a look, miss?”

It was well past midnight by the time I finally dragged myself up the rickety stairs to my apartment. The hallway light was flickering again, making the already depressing place feel even more like a scene out of a horror movie. Room 304. My front door had a well cased dish wrapped in foil, waiting for me. My mind instantly went to Mrs lauretta, the landlady. She was a sweet lovely lady in her late forties who genuinely cared about me. Dropping off dinner at my door steps once in a while. And today was no different.

He replies brightly, and makes a sharp turn which nearly gives me whiplash. We were fortunate enough to get the apartment that we share, we were the third people on the waitlist for the unit, and it just so happened that the people in front of us found new renting arrangements which meant that the the unit went to us. The complex itself is made up of three separate buildings and the one in which our apartment resides is the tallest of the three and has a quaint roof top deck with a small garden and offers a relatively breathtaking view of the surrounding areas, with Downtown Sacramento’s skyline in the not-so-far distance. Colton sets the two to-go bags on one of the picnic tables beside the

“Which apartment?” “Third floor. 3B.” Margaret's voice shook. Three of them climbed the stairs together. Amelia’s arm still looped through her grandmother’s, Adrian a step ahead. The door to 3B stood open, the frame splintered around the lock, inside, the apartment told its own story in fragments…. An overturned chair, a shattered mug on the kitchen floor, a phone left behind on the counter, its screen still lit with an unanswered call from a number Amelia didn't recognize.

I moved forward, while squinting through the windshield. "Then let's stop waiting," I added. The stairwell smelled like stale beer and cigarette smoke. I climbed to the third floor, while Marcus followed behind me. It was Apartment 3B. The paint was peeling off the door and a single light bulb flickered above us. I knocked, but no one answered. I went ahead to knock harder. "I know you're in there," I called out. "Open the door." Silence stretched for several seconds, then I heard movement. It was slow footsteps, before I heard a chain sliding across and then the door cracked open, and a face appeared in the gap.

The script is painfully simple: every strong man here will eventually die as a stepping stone, and every pretty woman—including our taken Succubus—will be magically brainwashed into his harem. What a tragic, predictable script, I muse. Good thing I don't care. I'm just here to make money. --- Room 306 is spacious. It features a shared living room, a kitchenette, two private bathrooms, and two bedrooms. I open my door. The room is immaculate—creamy white walls, a standard-issue bed with fresh sheets, and a desk. It doesn't need any cleaning. "Well," I say, turning to face Arlo. I clap my hands together. "Our contract is officially concluded. You are safely enrolled."

Levan pulled onto a patch of grass near the building we wanted. The four of us got out. Harper and I walked in front, with the two men following behind. We took the elevator to the sixteenth floor. Apartment 1603. Harper pressed the doorbell. After a moment, the door opened to reveal a young woman. She was thin to the point of frailty, like a paper doll. Though her skin was fair and her features delicate—she might have been beautiful once—a centipede-like scar ran down the left side of her face.

"Don't curse." Three hours later I was staring at myself in the full length mirror in Cath's bedroom. I had spent a full thirty minutes gawking at her apartment. It was on the top floor of a high rise building and was one of the only two apartments on the freaking floor. It was a little bit too impersonal for my taste, and looked barely lived in. There were no pictures on the wall or personal nick nacks anywhere. In fact, the only room that had any sign of life was the home office. The apartment was done up in stark white and blacks. I itched with the urge to dirty it up a bit. But nobody could deny that it was prime real estate. The floor to ceiling windows encompassing the whole place reve