The House I Rented Was Shockingly Cheap—But A Series of Bizarre Events Made Me Realize Why No One Dared to Stay There

A ridiculously cheap rental seemed like a lucky find—until I uncovered the unsettling truth behind its empty halls. Strange noises at night, a mysterious neighbor, and eerie warnings from the landlady soon spiraled into a chilling discovery. What was lurking in this house, and why had everyone else fled?

Recently, after a long period of job hunting, I finally landed a position in New York. To manage living expenses in a new city far from home, I needed an affordable place to stay.

That’s how I found this apartment—a room in an old boarding house tucked away in a remote corner of the city. The house had three floors, with six rooms on each floor. The first floor was where the landlady lived, and I rented a room on the second floor.

From the moment I arrived, an unsettling feeling washed over me. The house was nothing like I had imagined. Everything was old and worn out—the peeling walls, dim hallways lit by faint flickering lights—and oddly enough, I didn’t see a single other tenant.

When I asked the landlady, she explained, “This building is scheduled to be demolished in six months to make way for new construction. Most tenants have moved out since the notice, and only one man is still renting the room opposite yours. Since you’re only staying for two or three months and seem to need the place, I decided to let you rent it at a low cost.”

At that moment, I didn’t think much of it. The room met all my requirements, and I reassured myself that it would be fine. After all, I planned to move closer to my workplace once I had a steady income. But in hindsight, it was the worst decision of my life.

On my first day moving in, an uneasy sensation loomed over me. Everything about the house felt off, particularly the room across the hall. I encountered its occupant for the first time while pulling my suitcase into my room. A burly man with a rugged demeanor and arms covered in strange tattoos stood at the door. His piercing gaze locked onto me, making me feel like prey under his watchful eyes.

As soon as I placed my suitcase inside, I heard the door across the hall creak open abruptly. He stood there, staring at me with an intimidating glare. “Keep it down! You’re too loud!” he barked, his voice sharp and threatening, jolting me.

At that moment, the landlady appeared. She was a petite woman but carried herself with firm authority. “Mike, go back to your room and stop causing trouble,” she said, her tone gentle yet commanding. Both of us fell silent as he turned and slammed his door shut behind him.

The landlady turned to me with an apologetic look and handed me a bottle of juice. “Welcome. I hope you’ll find this place comfortable,” she said kindly. But her smile couldn’t ease the tension I felt. I forced a weak smile in return and accepted the juice, though an unsettling feeling lingered.

That night, after a long day, I fell into an exhausted sleep. The next morning, I woke up feeling unusually tired. As I got out of bed to pack my laptop for work, a strange sensation crept over me. The laptop felt warm, as if it had just been used, even though I distinctly remembered shutting it down the night before.

Confused, I wondered if I had left it on or if someone had entered my room without my knowledge. Dismissing the thought as paranoia, I decided to take it to a repair shop after work, just to be safe. But after thorough inspection, the technician assured me the laptop was functioning perfectly.

I returned to the apartment, still uneasy about the incident. As I entered the building, the landlady greeted me with a smile and asked how I was settling in. “Thank you, everything’s fine,” I replied, though my discomfort hadn’t subsided. She handed me another bottle of juice, which I accepted silently, my mind swirling with unanswered questions and growing doubts.

Because of the strange incident with my laptop yesterday, that night I decided to try a different method to check if someone had entered my room while I was sleeping.

I sprinkled a bit of dust on the laptop and closed it as usual. I also took photos of everything in the room with my phone to compare them the next morning.

The next morning, I opened the laptop and was shocked to find the dust gone. The laptop was warm, as if it had just been used. I reviewed the photos of the room and immediately noticed that my water glass had been moved. A cold sensation crept up my spine. Who had been in my room? And why?

Unable to sit still, I decided to confront the landlady and ask her directly if anyone else besides me had a key to my room.

“Hello, ma’am. May I ask about my room key? Does anyone other than me have access to it?” I asked, trying to keep my voice calm, though my insides churned with anxiety.

The landlady didn’t seem surprised. She looked at me for a moment before answering evenly, “No, only you and I have keys to your room. I haven’t given it to anyone else.”

I took a deep breath, my unease growing. “What about the building’s security cameras? I’d like to check if anyone entered my room.”

The landlady shrugged, her gaze unwavering. “Someone entered your room? Well, all the cameras have been broken for a long time. Since this building is slated for demolition, I didn’t bother fixing them.”

A chill ran through me. Something was off about this place, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that both the landlady and the man, Mike, were hiding something.

Returning to my room, I tried to calm myself. But as I walked down the hallway, I bumped into Mike. He shoved past me rudely and barked, “Don’t wander around at night. Keep quiet so I can sleep!”

He glared at me, and his gaze made me feel like I was being watched. But the night before, I had gone straight to bed after returning to my room without making any noise. Why was he saying this? Had something happened while I was asleep?

That night, I resolved to stay awake and figure out what was going on in the apartment at night. Whenever I felt drowsy, I pinched my leg hard to keep myself alert. Around 3 a.m., I heard strange noises from the hallway—soft footsteps as if someone was sneaking around in the dark. Perhaps these were the noises Mike had heard.

I decided to open the door to check but found no one. However, the gloomy and decrepit hallway was terrifying enough that I quickly retreated to my room and shut the door.

Since it was the weekend and I didn’t have to work, I decided to investigate the building. I started on the second floor, checking each room, but everything seemed normal. All the rooms were open and unoccupied.

When I reached the third floor, a closed door at the end of the hallway caught my attention. I approached room 301, my heart pounding. A strange feeling overcame me—a powerful urge to open the door and look inside.

Standing there, my hand on the doorknob, I suddenly caught a whiff of a strange smell—metallic, like blood. The odor made me shiver, and I closed my eyes to push away the eerie thoughts. Was I just being overly sensitive? But no, the smell was real. It seemed to cling to something dark and terrifying. I took a deep breath, trying to stay calm, but the panic lingered.

As I was about to open the door, a voice suddenly rang out behind me, startling me. “You shouldn’t go in there,” the landlady’s hoarse voice said with a hint of urgency. “Someone died in that room a long time ago.”

She stood there, her face etched with anger, her eyes sharp as knives. I couldn’t understand why she was acting this way. A chill swept over me, and I stepped back, my eyes wide with confusion. Nodding quickly, I said, “Alright… I understand,” before turning and hurrying down the stairs, not daring to look back.

Back in my room, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I finally realized that the rent wasn’t cheap because the building was set to be demolished—it was because someone had died there. Could the footsteps I heard last night have been from a ghost?

Terrified, I began packing my belongings to leave immediately. Suddenly, I received a message on my phone: “You’re not a good fit for the company, so please don’t come in tomorrow.”

The world spun around me. It felt like I was being pushed into a bottomless pit. Fear and tension welled up inside me, leaving me frozen, unsure of what to do next.

As I stood there, lost in thought, a knock at the door jolted me. Opening it, I found the landlady standing there, holding a bottle of juice and wearing an apologetic expression.

“Sorry for not telling you the truth earlier,” she said, her voice low and calm. “But this house is really nothing to worry about. People left because of rumors about ghosts, but they aren’t true. You don’t have to be afraid.”

She handed me the juice, and I accepted it without a word. For the moment, things seemed to settle down. But not long after, I found myself sinking into a deep sleep, unable to muster the energy to think further.

When I woke up the next morning, I went outside for some fresh air. That was when I noticed the door of the room opposite mine was ajar, just as it had been since the previous morning. The man who lived there hadn’t been seen for over a day. Could it be that he hadn’t come home? But why leave the door open?

Curious, I approached the room and peered inside. The floor was littered with empty beer bottles, and the walls were plastered with pictures of a woman. Could it be…? I quickly took a photo of the woman with my phone before shutting the door and returning to my room.

Immediately, I searched the internet for information about her and found a news article. The article reported a woman who had been missing for three days and was later found dead in the very building I was staying in. Could the woman in the article be the same person who had died in the third-floor room? And was Mike her murderer?

Terrified, I reported my findings to the police, who assured me they would arrive in 10 minutes to investigate.

Suddenly, I heard a crashing noise from the third floor. Grabbing a stick for protection, I cautiously made my way upstairs. The noise grew louder as I approached room 301 at the end of the hallway. Summoning all my courage, I opened the door.

The sight before me left me frozen. Mike was tied up in the middle of the floor. What was going on? Was he not the killer after all? I moved closer and untied the cloth gag from his mouth. He gasped for air and said, “We need to get out of here. She’s coming back soon.”

“What are you talking about? I don’t understand,” I replied, skeptical.
“Untie me, please! It’s the landlady. She killed my wife. I moved in here to investigate, but she drugged me and locked me up in this room,” he explained frantically.

Although I was still unsure what to believe, I untied him quickly. As soon as he was free, we rushed toward the exit. Just then, the landlady appeared before us.

“Where do you think you’re going?” she screamed, her voice filled with rage. I froze in place, unprepared for this confrontation. My mouth went dry, and fear surged through me, making it impossible to stay calm.

“Did you kill his wife?” I managed to ask, trying to keep my voice steady, though it trembled with fear.
“That’s right. And you’re next. Ha ha,” she laughed, her voice cold and chilling. Her eyes were sharp and terrifying, like a predator’s. “Don’t you realize what I’ve been giving you to drink every day?” she continued.

My mind raced. Every time I drank the juice she gave me, I would sleep soundly until morning. “You’ve been drugging me?” I asked, a chill running down my spine.

“I also got you fired from your job. I’ve prepared everything to make my move easier, but you found out too soon,” she said coldly.
Fear and desperation overwhelmed me, making my whole body tremble. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

At that moment, two men appeared behind her, each holding a metal rod. They were clearly ready to attack us. But suddenly, the sound of police sirens echoed from outside. Relief washed over me; help was finally here.
I turned to them and shouted, “I’ve called the police. You won’t get away with this.”

Panicked, they bolted down the stairs and tried to escape through a back route. Mike and I chased after them, yelling, “She’s the murderer!” Moments later, the police stormed in, and chaos ensued. The criminals were ultimately captured, cowering in fear.

“Thank you for your cooperation. We’ll need you both to come to the station to give your statements,” an officer said as he approached us.
I finally felt like I could breathe again, though my body still trembled from the ordeal.

At the police station, an officer revealed to us that the landlady had a severe criminal record and had only been released from prison a year ago. It was shocking to learn how someone with such a dark past had been able to hide it and commit even more heinous acts. This time, however, she would face a much harsher sentence.

Leaving the station, Mike—and I walked slowly along the familiar road back home. The sky seemed brighter, the air fresher, and I felt a sense of pride. I had overcome my fears and stood up for myself while helping someone else.

The next day, a television station reached out to interview Mike and me. Our story spread, inspiring many others. Soon, I received job offers from several prestigious companies, and I decided to move to a new city.

It was the beginning of a new chapter and a new life.

This story draws inspiration from real-life events and individuals, but it has been adapted and fictionalized for creative expression. Names, characters, and specific details have been altered to protect individuals’ privacy and to enhance the storyline. Any similarity to real persons, living or deceased, or actual events is coincidental and unintentional.