I walked inside the bedroom of my new apartment. Everything looked perfect, the beds, the curtains, the furniture, everything, was done just the way I like it, obviously I hired an interior designer and instructed him. He’s good I must say. The place was perfect for me, just me. When Rohan, my real-estate guy, told me that he had found a perfect place for me, I didn’t believe him, because I was searching for the right place for so long that I actually gave up.
I walked into the bathroom to change and I saw something weird. There were handprints on the mirror. I chuckled to myself, and thought that this is the perfect example of a horror cliché, and cleaned the handprint with a wet cloth. Suddenly I heard a loud noise of dishes falling. I rushed into the kitchen to see what happened. My china was lying broken in the hall, I looked around, I couldn’t see anyone. I figured that it must be a cat and started collecting the broken pieces. One piece grazed my hand. Blood started oozing out of my index finger. I ran towards the bathroom to clean the cut.
As the cold water hit my finger, the pain started subsiding. I looked up in the mirror; the handprint that I clearly remember rubbing off, appeared again. I freaked out and scrubbed the print off again. I tended to my wound, the cut didn’t seem that bad. I went to the kitchen to clean the remaining broken pieces of the china. After that I thought I should unpack other kitchen stuff. The interior decorator left the kitchen to me, of-course I asked him to do so. By the time I was done, my body and my stomach were screaming at me for some rest and some food. I figured it was time for some rest and snacks. I microwaved some ramen and switched on the television, while slurping on the noodles.
I didn’t know when I fell asleep. But when I woke up it was already half past 11. I thought about doing the rest of my unpacking but decided against it, as I was already very tired. I went to my bedroom and slept. I woke up to the sound of someone flushing the toilet. It came form the bathroom in my room. I got up from the bed to check what was wrong. Obviously I didn’t see anybody there, but the handprint on the mirror appeared again. I suddenly felt chilly and decided to ask about the handprint to Rohan tomorrow.
I was eating my breakfast, when Rohan came. I told him about all my strange experiences. He then joked about the ghost of the previous owner is haunting the house. I did some research and found the whole article about what happened. The article said that some thief broke into the house, heard the toilet flush and accidently broke the china. The previous owner was an old lady so she couldn’t hear the china breaking. The thief then proceeded to the washroom and murdered the old lady. The thief’s fingerprints were found on the mirror as the washroom was covered in mist because of the hot water.