Disagreeable Living Arrangements

Note: Yes, I’ve been bad. Yes, I’ve been lazy… but to make up for the lack of tangible production – my mind has been busy with ideas but alas not with actual writing – I will be posting a short story every day from here until the end of July. So, here we go! I hope you guys will enjoy.Thanks for reading. 😀


It was hard enough that things were tight money-wise, but the amount of time spent just trying to get things tidy enough and the absolute absence of any help were simply more than he could handle. Jamie knew he had to take a stand and draw a line on the ground; his roommate had taken advantage of his good will and kind nature, but there was a limit to everything.

He was wondering how he might broach the subject. Rent to date was covered but Jamie knew he could no longer take care of it all on his own. Utility bills were still outstanding for the previous month and surely the electric company would cut their power any day now.

Bo, his roommate, had been living with him for nearly a year, but he had known him from before. They had been friends for a few years and Jamie had felt comfortable taking him on as a roomy. About 5 or 6 months into the living arrangement Bo had become unemployed, the exact circumstances of said unemployment coming to be were not known to Jamie as Bo had been quite vague, actively avoiding to delve into the subject whenever it came up. Jamie would not press the matter too hard, of course, feeling it might be a touchy subject, sensitive, and that Bo might not have come to terms with whatever may have taken place that led to his unemployment. Nevertheless, the fact was that Bo had no means of income and had effectively become a burden to him. He had to get his shit together or get out.

The more Jamie thought about it the more he fanned the flames of his angry indignation. After a few minutes of turning the subject around in his mind he decided to get up, rather impulsively, and storm into Bo’s room, which was across the hall from his own room.

Jamie marched to Bo’s room door, his gait a testament to his determination, and knocked thrice on the said door.

No answer.

He did so again, rapping harder, and yelling out Bo’s name.

No reply.

He took the door handle and turned it, twisting forcefully and pushing the door inward. Darkness met him from beyond the threshold.

Darkness, and a stench of weeks-old sweat mingled with some unknown substance that reminded Jamie of shit and his more reptilian brain, in some atavistic manner, of ancient things.

The darkness was not solid, despite the initial impression he had gotten. No. Rather, the darkness was something the eyes could become accustomed to, as one would expect of darkness in the human experience. What his eyes decrypted, decoded from the information laid before them once they had learned to recognize that which lay within said darkness, was decidedly not something one would expect from the human experience.

Jamie took a slow, deep breath, slowly shut the door – making sure there was a satisfactory click – and backed away in a cautious manner, his eyes glued to the door.

Once he was in his room he took as few things as he could – without losing sight of Bo’s room door for more than a couple of seconds at a time – and dropped them into his book bag. He then walked out of his room, halfway across the hallway, into the living room and out the front door.

He never looked back and never made any attempts at finding out what became of Bo. He did wonder, over the years, on nights when that darkness and what was nursed within it seemed frightfully near, why his landlord never got in touch with him about rent, the contract, and any unpaid utility bills.



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