Stephanie Greene (Apt. 309)

Stephanie had just drifted to sleep when a sharp knock roused her. “Oliver, the door?” she slurred. No answer. Not home. She drearily shambled to the door, hoping it wasn’t the police with more questions about Mr. Evans. Looking through the peephole, she was surprised to see Bea MacArthur with a package in her arms. Maybe a late wedding gift? Her brows furrowed, and she unlocked the door. After signing for the box, she returned inside and opened the box with her keys, not bothering to track down the ever-moving scissors. Still half-asleep, she fished out a note: To Stephanie: Good luck.  A line formed between her eyebrows, and she glanced around before delving deeper into the box’s contents. She pulled out two photos: one of her driving and one of her walking. They were each labelled with her name, the date, and a location. A knot developed in Stephanie’s throat. Her breathing became rapid. Eventually, her curiosity overcame her feeling of impending doom, forcing her to examine t...

One of the things Stephanie loved most about living in the Foxberry was her Sunday morning stroll to church. She walked alone, listening to the birds softly singing and the leaves crunching beneath her toes. It was calming, meditative if you will. This morning, everyone stared. Her ear-to-ear smile made her stand out like a parrot among ravens. What was there to be so excited about on such a dreary Sunday morning? Other than the pizza specials, of course. Eyes followed her as she walked down Effugium Boulevard, but Stephanie brushed it off, attributing their gazes to her bright red hair or height. She was early, entering an almost-empty sanctuary. She exchanged soft smiles with the minister as he rehearsed today’s sermon. Stephanie shrugged off her coat and made her way downstairs to the nursery. “Hi Olivia,” she said as she stepped into the room. Olivia turned around, Lysol and paper towels in gloved hands. “Stephanie! I’m so glad you’ll be joining us this morning,” Olivia said. “The ...

The day started with homemade coffee. Stephanie typically grabbed a cup from a cafe, but her Aunt Sue had been generous enough to provide the “happy couple” with a Keurig. It was the first wedding gift Stephanie and Oliver had used, and coincidentally the first time Stephanie had made herself coffee.  The apartment walls were still barren save for a few test paint splotches, the floors remained unfinished, and the moving boxes lingered in the same corner as a week ago. Looking at the mess made Stephanie bite her nails, but this week had been too busy to do anything about it. She tried to avert her eyes and while she made breakfast. It was the last apartment in the building. Apparently, it was haunted. The owner, Mr. Evans, had died under “mysterious circumstances” shortly before Stephanie and Oliver moved in, and Old Man Jenkins always told them his spirit would never rest as long as they lived there. Oliver dismissed the rumors, prompting Stephanie to do the same, but secretly sh...