The Boy in Apartment 7A

Chapter 3: Footsteps at Midnight

Elise couldn’t sleep. She lay curled under her blanket, eyes wide, watching the shadows shift across the ceiling as rain tapped gently at the windowpane. Her bedside clock glowed 12:14 a.m., casting a faint red hue over her nightstand. It had been hours since she’d spoken to Mr. Rigo. His words played in her head on loop.

“They say he died in the fire.”

But Daniel wasn’t a ghost. He wrote letters. He hummed songs she hadn’t played in years. He knew her. Somehow, he knew her. A creak from the hallway snapped her thoughts in half. She sat up slowly, heart thudding. Footsteps.

Slow and deliberate. Moving past her door, one step at a time. She slid out of bed, her bare feet silent against the wooden floor. Tiptoeing to the door, she pressed her eye against the peephole.

Nothing.

Then, just as she started to pull away, a shadow moved across the frame. Someone was out there, just beyond view. She held her breath. Three soft knocks—on the wall, not the door. She whispered, “Daniel?” Silence. She waited, heart in her throat. Then, as quietly as they came, the footsteps moved away, fading into the end of the hallway.

The next morning, Elise found another note.

I didn’t knock last night. But I heard him too.

Stay inside after midnight.

– Daniel

She stared at the paper, fingers trembling slightly. Who did you hear? she wrote back.

Later that evening, the reply came.

Someone who doesn’t belong here anymore.

The walls of 7B had always been thin, but now Elise listened differently. The hum of plumbing, the clink of pipes, the occasional shout from a neighbor downstairs—they all meant something now. Each sound was a breadcrumb.

That night, she didn’t play piano. Instead, she sat at the window, staring into the alley behind the building, watching puddles swell under the streetlight. She half expected to see someone watching her from the shadows. No one came.

But at 12:03 a.m., she heard it again. Steps. They stopped just outside her door. This time, there was no knock. Just silence. She got up, slowly, carefully, and reached for the chain lock. Heart racing, she slid the cover over the peephole and looked.

A man stood there—tall, wiry, face hidden under a hood. He wasn’t facing her door but 7A’s, his hand lifted as if about to knock. Then, he paused. Turned. His face was pale, stretched tight across his skull. His eyes were… vacant. Lifeless. And then—he smiled. Elise stumbled back, her breath hitching. She blinked—and he was gone. She ran to the door, flung it open— The hallway was empty. Only a single slip of paper lay on the floor. Not Daniel’s handwriting.

You hear him too, don’t you?

He never left.

The next day, Elise called Kayla. “I need you to come over tonight,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

“Sure. Is everything okay?” Kayla asked. “No. And I’m not sure what’s real anymore.”

By 8 p.m., Kayla was sitting cross-legged on Elise’s couch, holding a mug of chamomile tea. “So let me get this straight,” Kayla said, “you’ve been exchanging letters with a guy who may or may not be dead.”

“Yes.”

“And now you’re hearing things. Seeing people who disappear.” Elise nodded. Kayla stared. “This is why I don’t watch horror movies. You’re in one.”

“It doesn’t feel like horror,” Elise whispered. “It feels like… a memory I forgot.” Kayla looked skeptical, but she squeezed Elise’s hand. “Okay. Let’s just stay up tonight. If ghost-boy or sketchy hallway creeper shows up, we’ll both see it.”

Midnight crept in slowly. The two girls sat in the dark, lights off, watching the front door. The apartment was deathly quiet. At 12:18 a.m., there was a creak. Both women held their breath. Footsteps.

A slow, measured walk. Past Elise’s door. Kayla’s eyes widened. “Did you hear that?” Elise whispered. “Yes,” Kayla mouthed, “I heard it.” Then—knock knock knock. On the wall between 7A and 7B. Kayla’s hand flew to her mouth.

Elise whispered, “It’s him.” They waited, barely breathing.

Then something slid under the door. Kayla jumped up and backed into the kitchen. Elise knelt slowly and picked it up.

He’s getting closer.

He wants back in.

Don’t open the door.

– Daniel

Kayla stared at the paper. “This is real,” she whispered. “This is actually happening.” Elise didn’t respond. Her eyes were fixed on the wall. On the other side, a faint humming began—broken, tuneless, and wrong. It wasn’t Daniel. It didn’t even sound human.