The 3rd Floor Neighbour

Recently I’ve moved into an apartment in a much peaceful and calm area, compared to where I lived. Now I don’t have to spend so much time in traffic and the rent is also considerably lower.

This building was somewhat new, and it didn’t have many people living in it yet, just one neighbour on the third floor, me on the second floor and two neighbours on the bottom floor. The first-floor was under maintenance so for now no one could occupy it. After doing all the moving and settling most of my stuff in my new house I heard the doorbell, and for my surprise I received an unexpected visit from my neighbour from the third floor.

My neighbour was a very kind looking man who was in his seventies or so, impeccably dressed and had this big grin on his face. What surprised me even more was that he brought some small meat pies for me, “A welcome gift” he said with his cheerful smile. Those meat pies looked really tasty and their smell was mouth-watering, and with all the moving around I didn’t feel like making dinner, so I gladly accepted those pies and sincerely thanked the kind old man. Before leaving, the man asked me if I could drop on by someday and have dinner with him, he told me that his wife had recently passed away and that he felt a bit lonely. They didn’t have any sons or daughters and most of his family didn’t live in the region.

Honestly, I wasn’t really comfortable with the idea of having dinner with someone I just barely met, but I do know how it is to be lonely, since I have recently filed for a divorce. The man really looked so nice and he reminded me a lot of my deceased father. As appreciation for giving me the meat pies I told him that tomorrow I would drop by his house to have dinner. The man’s smile got even wider and he cheerfully walked away.

The next day, after work, I dropped by his house and rang the doorbell. He immediately opened the door and cheerfully asked me if I liked the meat pies he gave me yesterday. I must admit the meat pies were tasty and the meat filling was especially well cooked and spicy. He told me to wait in the living room, since he was almost finishing up the cooking, I kindly asked if he needed help, but he dismissed my attempt to help and just asked if I liked meat loaf. “It’s my favourite dish,” I said in a very happy mood.

When the dinner was ready he called me to the kitchen and when I entered it the smell was just mouth-watering, I wasn’t really hungry, but that scent changed that. We both sat at the dinner table and I began talking with my neighbour and asking him where he worked in the past, he replied that he was a butcher most of his life. Now it really makes sense because the meat was just so good, and he must really know where to buy it. I asked him what type of meat we were eating, because I wanted to know where he bought it. As I asked this he put on the most nasty, sinister evil looking smile I have ever seen, and what he told me next made me so sick that I couldn’t contain my vomit. In this almost demonic voice he cheerfully said, “Well we are eating the meat of my deceased wife… she never enjoyed my cooking.”