Within

Chapter 1

The old man sauntered up the stairs, his old fragile hand that grasped a walking stick gave a rhythmic thump as he led the way. 'Almost there,' he huffed. Right, you've said that at least twice now. 'Elevator's broken down for a long time now. Its either gonna be my cancer killing me or this goddamn stairs, I tell you.' The man that was called Jack gave a polite nod.

     'Here we are,' the old man announced as he fumbled for his bunch of keys in his pocket. They were standing in front of Room E1, its door plate a worn and dusty one. The old man opened the door and took off his shoes before stepping in. 'No shoes allowed, sonny. T'was lotta effort in keeping this place clean,' the old man said. Reluctantly, Jack took off his shoes and went in as well.

     Jack was greeted by a short and narrow corridor with cracked white-painted walls that seemed more like gray. He entered the living room as he went further into the apartment. Furnished with plain furniture, two couches sat directly opposite against each other and an armchair by the corner with a lamp that arched low beside it. Even the illumination brought by the lights gave the living room a soft yellow glow on its walls, making it more ancient than it should be. The wooden floorboards were clean but worn and gave a low creak every step the man took. The living room was small but not tiny, plain but not too simple, a few strides to pause and ponder he remembered his parents used to say about their small home.

     Behind the living room was the kitchen. White tiled, it was a much brighter-looking place compared to the living room. Brown wooden cabinets, a fridge, an oven, and a stove stood ready to be used. The dining table was right smack in the middle between the living room and the kitchen. Everything was fine and in good condition. Except the tap. It was leaking.

     'Balls! I thought I had this tap fixed last month,' the old man cursed as soon as he saw the tap.

     'Can you get it fixed again?' Jack asked.

     'Ye mister, I'll contact the plumber as soon as possible. I'll show you the bedrooms once you're ready,' the old man said as he left the kitchen and turned a sharp right into another dark corridor. There were three doors. Two were in front of the old man while one to his back. Opening the left door, he motioned for Jack to go in. The bedroom was as plain as the living room. Cracked-white walls that looked gray, a white-sheeted bed in the centre, a six drawer chest in one corner and a lamp that stood on a bedside cabinet. The only thing unusual was a gargantuan mirror with intricate designs on its borders. It was plastered on the wall in front of the bed. 'That looks valuable. One of the previous tenants left it?' Jack asked. 'Yep, she died in this very room a few years back. Surprised that not one of her children tried to get it back, nor did she said anything about it in her will,' the old man replied.

     Jack's eyes widened. Noticing Jack's pale face, the old man broke off into a low chuckle. 'She died of a natural cause, mister. Old age. Was older than my ma herself. Sooner or later, I'll be next. Nuthin' to worry about.' Jack gave out a small sigh. It was bad enough that their current house was taken back by the bank. Moving in to a place where a person died? Imagine him breaking this up to his children just that. Kelsi will definitely use this to frighten Damon if she found out. And Damon... Ugh, I don't need this. Guess ignorance is bliss, right? Though deep in his thoughts, he could still hear the old man chuckling softly.

     Jack and the old man exited the room and went to the living room. The rhythmic thump on the wooden floorboards suddenly stopped. 'Oh bugger me, we haven't been properly introduced yet,' the old man turned around and said. 'Name's Boris Harper. But anyone else calls me Bors for short. What's yours mister?'

     'Jack Dresden. You'll get to meet my two children, Kelsi and Damon once I moved in.'

     'Decided already eh, mister? Don't you want to check out the bathroom or the other bedroom? How 'bout your wife? You divorced or something like that?' Bors asked. His questions were like machine-gun fire, one after another.

     'She died.' Jack put in bluntly.

     'I'm sorry for your loss, mister. Don't mean to pry. Just an old man getting to know my tenants.

     'Nah, it's fine.'

     'If you say so, miste..uh.. Jack.'

     Bors then fumbled in his pocket to retrieve a document and a pen. He unfolded the document and gave it to Jack. It was the tenancy agreement. 'Here, give it a read. When you're done, sign here,' the old man pointed the blank area with his pen. 'Take your time now, I'm in no hurry. Don't want no mistakes about this, y'hear me?' the old man added. 

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               Giving it one last read, Jack signed the agreement with a flourish. He handed it back to Bors and Bors gave him a key. His key now. 'Just so you know, I have one of those keys too. Can't be too sure with people these days. Them and their rents.' Jack flashed a strained smile. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a painting that hung low behind one of the couches. That's odd. Why didn't I see it earlier? It was a portrait of a frowning clown with make-up on holding a bouquet of wilted flowers. Something about that painting felt wrong. Bors caught him looking at it. 'That clown gives me the chills, Jack. Could've almost swear all my hair stands when I look at that clown. Of all the stuff tenants leave, it had to be this. Do me a favor, Jack. If or when you leave this place, leave some booty for me will you?' With that, Bors chuckled at his own joke as he walked out of the apartment, wore his shoes and left, his rhythmic thump fading into the distance, leaving Jack to his new home. Looking at the place he bought  - and rather rashly Jess would say - he hoped that the future particularly his', Kelsi's and Damon's futures will turn out right. He took in a deep breath and exhaled. Lifting his arm to check the time on his wristwatch, he couldn't but help reminding himself that it was time for Damon's bedtime. And his bedtime story. Guess I'll have to tell them tomorrow. With that, he went out, locked the apartment door, wore his shoes and left, leaving the apartment to its usual state of gloominess.

                The clown wasn't frowning anymore.