The Witch Upstairs

So I’m just going to jump right in and say it: I strongly suspect that the woman residing in the apartment directly above mine is some sort of witch. I don’t work a 9 to 5 job, so I consider myself an authority on this matter as I can observe at length, the goings-on of the people who I call neighbours when I’m at home. There’s nothing physically special about the woman. In fact she’s average in every imaginable way – she’s about 5’ 5” and of an indistinct, amoebic shape. Brown, beady, shifty eyes. Nothing too out of the ordinary and yet it is my belief that there’s more to her than meets the eye. Here are my reasons for coming to this conclusion:

Her restive reclusion.
She lives alone in a huge apartment and never gets visitors. What does she use all that space for – all those rooms? Who creeps around all day in them, even after she goes out, frequently frightening me into a barrage of obscenities? And why get such a large place if you hardly spend any time in it?

Her quirks.
From furtive glances (as though being stalked by unseen forces), to unacknowledged hellos (as though her real self had flown away, leaving behind the ill-fitting, barely-cognizant person-suit she stole), to her lack of reaction to babies or puppies (no response to the cuteness effect), she definitely exhibits a worrying plethora of oddities.

The potted plants of perdition.
A colony of sentient, malevolent plants garlands her balcony and is poised to be the ground zero of a new rainforest. One moment they’re trim and neat, the next has creeping vines growing alarmingly fast and reaching down toward my flat, as if looking to grasp at something to devour. I’ve never been inside her house, but I am convinced they persist within, clambering up walls and across the floors with reckless abandon. She waters them religiously, almost feverishly, everyday. Actually, “bathes them” would be a more accurate description. I think they’re her pets. Huge pitcher plants and various other unidentified carnivorous species, large enough to actively prey on cats and puppies. I imagine them stalking off along the walls and off into the surrounding fields, hunting creatures in the dead of night. It’s no wonder my little chipmunk friend from a nearby tree doesn’t visit anymore.

The jungle insects.
I suspect their purpose is either to pollinate the plants or serve as snacks when they’re busy pretending to be passive and harmless flora. I mean sure, we have many tropical pests flying about in our persistent summer heat, but the exotic, humungous Amazonian bugs that hang around her ghastly garden all year round simply defy reason.

The nagging noises.
When she’s away, scratching noises can be heard intermittently from upstairs (which I’ve attributed to her animate plant party creeping across the floors). The sounds start boldly during the day, the daylight doing little to temper my unease. But when she’s around, things get even more sinister. The neighbour’s dogs howl more often and more persistently. The scratching then comes every night. Even more unnerving is the time these noises begin. The first time I was woken up by the sound, I went to the bathroom for a pee and by the time I got back into bed, it was 3:01am. I thought nothing of this at first, until it became almost a ritual whenever she was in town. Scratchy noise, wake up angrily (though scared), scramble to the toilet, back to bed, glance at my phone: 3:01. Every night. As it doesn’t take more than a minute to do my business, it means the scratching commences precisely at 0300 hrs nightly. This may not have meant much to me, save for a tiny bit of trivia culled from a book I read ages ago: three o’ clock in the a.m. is known as the witching hour – the time witches and all such creatures commence their business.

Her vanishing acts.
My creepy neighbor is not always “in town”, and frequently travels away on “business”. Not that she ever told this to anyone. I just assume that to be her cooked-up story in the event she’s queried about her long absences from home. She frequently makes these trips for months at a time yet supposedly holds a regular job. I’ve concluded that nothing short of a Cosmic Conference of Conjurers would take up that kind of time. I assume it would take an average broom to reach a local, multinational event. However, such an intergalactic, multiversal gathering of ghoulish guests would require a modern day, high-tech vacuum cleaner and obscene lengths of time to get to. I’m quite certain I’ve spied such an appliance being carried up to her apartment before.

But wait. This line of thought has unwittingly led me to consider another perfectly reasonable theory explaining the enigma that is my neighbour. The idea of her wearing a person-suit, combined not only with antisocial, but downright weird behavior, then throw space travel into the mix, now has me considering a possible extraterrestrial situation.

An alien in disguise…
The more I stack this against all the evidence, the more sense it seems to make.

Hmmm…. I shall ruminate on this and return with updates, if I’m able to glean further information to support or disprove this new idea.





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