The Static in the Doorway

I never thought I’d be the type to tell ghost stories, but after what happened today, I have to get it out. My partner, Ren, and I had just moved into this old converted warehouse on the edge of the city. The loft was all exposed brick and steel beams, but the heating was a joke, so we’d dragged our mattress into the living area, where we could run a couple of space heaters. It was makeshift, but it was home.

This afternoon, I was lying there, nursing a throbbing headache that had settled behind my eyes. Ren came over and knelt beside the mattress, his face full of concern. He was asking if I needed anything, when suddenly he let out a yelp and shot upright, his hand flying to his backside. ‘What?’ I asked, confused. He looked at me, a mix of shock and embarrassment on his face. ‘Something pinched me,’ he said, rubbing the spot. ‘Right on the butt.’ I laughed it off, thinking he was just trying to cheer me up with a dumb joke. But the look on his face said he was dead serious.

I decided to light a cigarette to calm my nerves. I was sitting on the edge of the mattress, just taking a drag, when I felt a sharp static zap on my lips. It wasn’t just a tingle; it was like a tiny bolt of electricity. I pulled the cigarette away, and my lips were buzzing. I tried again, and the same thing happened. Ren was watching me, his eyes wide. ‘Maybe it’s the dry air,’ I said, but I didn’t believe it. The air wasn’t that dry.

We tried to shake it off, decided we needed food, and so we went out for a late dinner at a greasy spoon diner nearby. The whole time, I could feel a strange, electric taste in my mouth, like biting a battery. Ren was quiet, picking at his fries. When we finally got back to the loft, the door was ajar. We always locked it. And there, in the doorway to the bedroom, was our mattress. It was stuck, half in and half out, like someone had tried to drag it through but had been interrupted.

We stood there, staring. Ren whispered, ‘Did you move that?’ I shook my head. Neither of us had touched it. The heaters were still running, the air thick with the smell of burnt dust. I felt a prickle on my skin, like being watched. That’s when I noticed the static again, that same tingle, but this time all over my body. I grabbed Ren’s arm, and we both backed away. The mattress didn’t move, but I could swear I saw a faint shimmer in the air around it, like heat ripples.

We didn’t stay there that night. We checked into a motel, and I’m writing this from the crappy motel bed, Ren asleep beside me. He hasn’t stopped twitching in his sleep. I don’t know if we’ll ever go back to that loft. But as I lie here, I keep feeling that static on my lips, and I have this nagging thought: whatever pinched Ren and zapped me, it’s still there. And it’s not done with us.