• Sad story's •

The women next door

The story I want to tell you may be quite difficult to believe. It's up to you to decide whether or not it is true.

I lived with my parents in a small town. I was their only daughter and they doted on me. When I was 18 years old, they sent me to the city to attend university. That was where I met the young man who was to become my husband.

I had never so much as kissed a boy before and he swept me off my feet. He treated me like I was the most beautiful girl in the world. It wasn't long before we fell in love. By the time we finished university, we were already engaged.

We got married and I moved into the house he shared with his parents. Soon afterwards, I discovered I was expecting a baby. It wasn't an ideal situation. We were young and money was tight. Living with his parents was sometimes difficult and stressful. We wanted to get our own place, but we couldn't afford it.

My husband worked hard and sometimes a couple of days would go by when he did not come home. I was sad and lonely. Once my son was born, I spent all my time changing diapers and feeding him.

My son grew up quickly and by the time he was 4 years old, we were still stuck in the same situation. I thought my hair would soon turn gray from a nervous breakdown. What was needed was a change of scenery.

Then one day, my husband came home from work and told me he was getting a promotion. Now we could finally afford to rent an apartment of our own. Of course, I was very happy, but I knew it meant that I would see my husband even less.

As time passed, we moved into a rented apartment in an old, dilapidated building. It wasn't our dream home, but at least it was better than living with his parents. While my husband was busy at work, I ran the household and raised our son. While he was old enough to go to kindergarten, I was at home, cooking and cleaning and doing all of the chores of a normal housewife.

There were four apartments on our floor and the doors faced each other. I decided to try and make friends with the neighbors, so I went to the first door. I wanted to introduce myself, tell them we had just moved in and just try to strike up a friendship with them.

Just as I raised my fist to knock on it, the door suddenly opened. I was a bit taken aback. The chain was on the door and an old woman was peering through the gap, regarding me suspiciously. She looked like she was almost 80 years old.

"Hi, I'm new here," I said, but the old woman cut me off.

"Get out of here," she hissed. "Nobody wants to make friends with you! Stay away from these apartments! What do you think you're doing here?

"But... But... I..." I stammered.

"Go away, damn you!" she hissed. "Leave everybody alone. They don't want to talk to you! If you don't get out of here, I'll call the police!"

With that, she slammed the door shut in my face.

I was so shocked, embarassed and humiliated, I couldn't even think clearly.

"I hope you die!" I muttered under my breath.

When I turned to go home, I heard a soft female voice say, "Girl, I'm sorry..."

I looked up and saw a young woman standing in the doorway of the apartment next door.

"You must be our new neighbor," she said.

"Yes," I replied.

"I heard what the old woman said to you," she told me.

I smiled and said, "Yes, what an unpleasant old woman... Nothing but a crazy old hag..."