“I know this isn’t the best street in town, but this is getting ridiculous.”

…Is what Dex would have said if there was anyone around to complain to.

The broken streetlight wouldn’t have been a problem if his apartment was on the other side of the dingy building. Hell, if he was just a floor or two higher he could have made peace with it. But the only stupid window in his stupid 2nd floor studio apartment just had to face the stupid flickering streetlight. It was maddening.

Even with his new blinds the dull light still peaked through the cracks, sickly yellow lines appearing over his bed on and off…and on…and off…

…and on…

and—

Dex slammed his fists into the covers repeatedly, teeth clenched in frustration. To someone else, the easy solution would have been to sleep with his head under the blanket. Perhaps even rearrange the space. But as a working, taxpaying citizen, why should he have to change his routine because of some asshole’s oversight? Oh, no. He was getting this problem set right.

It wasn’t long before he was sat cross legged on the couch in his “living room” (which he separated from the “bedroom” with a big curtain), trying to get a hold of the landlord. He knew for a fact Mike was up, who isn’t at 10pm? But both of his calls rang for what felt like an eternity before going to voicemail. Of course.

Dex tried his luck with 311, arguing with the automated voice that sent him in circles. Trying to fill out the online form that presented itself as a very helpful white screen. In the end he was right back where he started: in bed with his mind reeling over those same yellow lines.

On…and off…

And on….

Off…

It vaguely reminded him of the days he spent at his cousins’ house. When the sun set each of them would grab flashlights and take turns running next door to Grandma’s, shining their flashlights in each other’s windows trying to make out what was being said in Morse code. Dex was always the best at it, using it as his opportunity to spell out the bad words he would be scolded at for using in the house. Perhaps it was the sleep deprivation taking control, but soon enough Dex was holding a notepad and pen. There’s no harm in a memory refresh.

His first attempt was nothing but random letters, a testament to how long it’s been since he tried decoding. It was for fun after all. But that fun had morphed into nervous surprise when there was actually something that came from his trivial activity.

BOILER ROOM

Dex smiled at his so-called findings, less out of amusement and more so to trick his mind into feeling something other than fear. “But what was there to be afraid of?” He reasoned. If anything, this was a coincidence. It’s been ten years since those Morse nights in the country. The margin of error was pretty wide.

Right?

It must have been some sick curiosity, that streetlight must have driven him mad. Or the edible he took last night was still in his system. But he kept putting letters down, watching the blinks from the streetlight with uncanny focus, as if it were a necessity. Dex couldn’t tell whether he spent ten minutes or an hour on this little puzzle. He pushed the ink into the paper with such force that some letters had small holes in them. But the final message had him stop everything he was doing. All thoughts were directed at his handiwork.

FINDMEINTHEBOILERROOM

FIND ME IN THE BOILER ROOM

Hell. No.

Dex dialed the only person he could trust with a swiftness. Whether this was real or just some dumbass prank, he was not watching this unfold alone.

“You do know it’s almost 11, right? Why are you hitting my line? On a Tuesday night?”

The voice was irritated, yet alert enough to assume whoever was on the other line wasn’t going to sleep anytime soon.

“Vic, get over here now, for real. This is freaky.”

Vic sighed.

“I got things to do tomorrow. I need my sleep.”

“By ‘things’ you mean joining a Teams meeting for half an hour and spending the rest of the day with your PlayStation and a blunt?”

“Don’t criticize me.”

Dex rolled his eyes, a gesture he hoped Vic could feel telepathically. “Just get over here. You’re three blocks away.”

The only reply was a grunt before the call disconnected. Meaning they would be there shortly.

Dex sat on the arm of his couch that wasn’t falling apart as he waited, holding the notepad to his chest as if he were afraid to look at it. Knowing that Vic was on the way was the only thought giving him peace of mind. If he went down, he had someone going down with him. Of course, Dex could have chosen to ignore what had happened and went to bed. But in his mind, he was already at the point of no return.

Dex opened the door at the first knock, letting out a sigh of relief upon seeing his ride or die. He was using this term quite literally tonight.

“Okay, what?” Vic said as they stood with their arms crossed in the doorway, though seeing Dex so panicked made them drop the bulk of their attitude.

“Dude, dude, I swear on my life that the streetlight that keeps flickering is Morse code.” He shoved the notepad into his friend’s face, waiting for them to take it.

They did, eventually, after stifling a yawn.

“Find me in the…” Vic scratched behind their ear. “Man I told you, you ate too much of that brownie. Your weed tolerance is terrible.”

Dex groaned, pulling Vic through the doorframe before closing it. “I’m so serious! This is the most serious I’ve been all year. What if there’s actually something in the boiler room?”

Vic ran their hand over their face. “Alright, let’s say there is. We’re supposed to go down there and die by the hands of this boiler room ghost? That’s, like, the worst way to go out.”

“Vic, if we don’t check I’m going to go insane.”

“Who is ‘we’? Also, some might say you already have.”

Dex put his palms together, doing his best to look sad and defeated, which frankly didn’t take much. “Look, I’ll owe you big time. I’ll get you that one game you’ve been wanting, or take you out to that new hibachi spot downtown. Please just…two minutes and we leave.”

Vic stood in silence for a minute before huffing an annoyed sigh.

“Two minutes. And if I die I’ll never forgive you.”

“Deal.”

With a reluctance, Vic trailed behind the man who they were sure was leading them to their demise as they made their way to the boiler room. It was a separate door outside; the night air was temperate so it wasn’t much of an issue. Dex kicked away some dead brush as they rounded the corner to the back of the building.

The door was rusted, but surprisingly unlocked. Vic cringed as it screeched open with a little elbow grease. Dex flicked on a lone light switch that sat on the ugly plastered walls. A singular dull bulb stuttered to life at the bottom of the grimy steps.

“…Yeah, we’re cooked.” Vic whispered, feet firmly in place as they watched Dex lean in for a closer look. He seemed almost in a trance, eyes transfixed on the hanging bulb that flickered on and off…and on…and off…

…and on…

and…

“It’s the same pattern,” Dex finally said, coming back into himself.

Vic bristled. “I won’t lie man, you’re scaring me.”

“Come on, we got to at least see what’s down there.”

Before Vic could respond, Dex was descending into the darkness, the echoing of his footsteps bouncing off the walls. They cursed under their breath before following suit.

…

The boiler room smelled like wet metal. The sounds of methodical clanks and compounding heat were the only ones that filled the air. Dex mouthed something that his companion could not understand as he moved further in. Nothing seemed particularly amiss, other than the grime. And the more time Vic spent in there, the more they wanted to leave.

“One more minute,” they said quietly, hands fidgeting in their pockets. “There’s nothing in here.”

But it didn’t seem like Dex heard them. He went further in, further until the smell of wet metal turned into dried blood. Further, until he saw a pile of crates caked in dust. Further, as he opened one after the other until the pungent smell of rot hit him in the face so hard he could feel bile rising in his throat. It was a little girl, or what seemed to be the grotesque remains of one, her flesh hanging loosely off its frame in sickening pale green masses. Her scalp was decorated in bald patches. Her yellow sundress dirtied and covered in blood and dried vomit. The only in tact part of her small form were her eyes, dim and clouded over, observing the man who discovered her with lifeless judgement.

The sound of Vic’s voice was muffled and far away.

“…ex…..on….out of here!”

Dex screamed at the touch of Vic’s hand on his shoulder.

“Dex, let’s go! We’re wasting our—“

Vic gagged. “Oh my god…”

The two of them stood in horrified silence, unsure of how to proceed. Until the most foul odor graced their senses. Vic’s eyes watered, but it was nothing compared to the sight thereafter. The child’s festering lips opened, a piece of the skin falling off as she stretched her mouth into a smile. A roach crawled out, taking residence between her dwindling locks of hair.

“You…found…me…”

The light went out.