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What Remains of Us
by Jack Edwards
EXCERPT
… A booming knock at the front door sent a rattle through her bones. She hurried down the corridor and stretched up to peer through the peephole. Nothing but the fish-eyed expanse of the stairwell beyond. She slid the chain lock into place and pulled the door open a few inches. Silent stillness.
‘Hello?’ Her voice echoed up and down the cavernous space.
No one answered.
Kids, probably.
A cold wind whistled up from the broken door in the hallway below. It needed sorting.
She went out onto the landing and knocked at her immediate neighbour’s front door, but there was no response, just deep silence. It was the same at every flat on the floor below, save for one, a TV droning in its depths. But no one answered. She’d write a letter and post it on the empty noticeboard in the hall downstairs, maybe start up a WhatsApp group.
A low moan echoed from somewhere above her in the stairwell, an eerie sound, as though something unknowable had turned its attention her way. She hurried back to her own flat, breathing a sigh of relief as the door clicked shut, then laughing at her own fear over the creaks and groans of an old building.
But the flat seemed suddenly gigantic, far too big for one young woman living alone.
A cold chill swept through the corridor. A pipe in the wall clattered and banged.
She shut herself in the box room, away from the noises outside, nestled in warm clothes, listening to music until the battery on her phone died. …
… Read the complete story in our anthology Broken Ground.
Jack Edwards
Jack Edwards aims to write down-to-earth stories about everyday people, but finds that a twist of horror tends to creep in through the cracks.
