A Homemade Dinner

“Mi casa es su casa!”

The old Italian man had exclaimed, throwing out his arms and doing a small turnaround in the centre of the living room. His renter only stared at him, smiling thankfully and hiding his nervousness.

It was this renters first time renting, and he was anxious to see his living space. The owners of said house were an old Italian couple, and though they were old, the house didn’t seem too outdated.

It was perfect to the renter, and he came to this conclusion when the owners showed him to his apartment on the upper level of the house.

On the tour the old man insisted that he’d have everything he needed upstairs, but if he were to need anything at all he shouldn’t hesitate to ask either of the two. He mentioned how he would prefer nothing stayed on during the night, such as water or lights, as to not raise the electricity bill. And then, during the conclusion of the tour the old man had stopped at the edge of the stairs.

“Oh, and son, you are not to enter the basement unless given permission, is that understood? I have a lot of tools down there and it can be dangerous to navigate in the dark, I wouldn’t want you hurting yourself.” He mentioned, and despite the friendly tone the renter recognized danger within this warning.

“Understood, thank you sir. This place is far nicer than I’d imagined, I do appreciate it.” The renter smiled in return, brushing off his thoughts.

In the afternoon that followed all was normal. The renter had even been invited to sit down for dinner with the old couple, just to exchange words and talk more about themselves. The meal they shared was home made, something that the renter had never had before. It was said to be an exotic meat from an animal that he knew not the name of. He enjoyed it nonetheless, it was a nice treat from the two.

On the way back upstairs, the renter didn’t know why, but something about this house put him on edge. It didn’t seem to be the furniture, or even the architecture, but maybe so the owners. That, or he’d gotten some sort of uneasiness by the food he’d just eaten.

Though he thought nothing of it; alas, the house had been shared for such a cheap price, he saw nothing more to complain about.

Though he’d come to regret it soon enough.

On a late night the next week the renter had awoken to a sound coming from the downstairs. He had awoken discombobulated, coming out of a vivid dream, the hairs on his arms were on end. Though he found himself to his feet instantly, coming to.

It sounded like one of the old owners had fallen, and the renter had the urge to check on them.

Running down the stairs and seeing the light of the living room on, he realized that the old woman-wife of the old Italian man-had taken a fall. So, he rushed over to help, hunching down and asking her if she was okay.

“Oh, thank you.” She smiled, a smile that didn’t quite meet her eyes. He’d of figured she was in pain, if it weren’t for the maliciousness behind this smile.

Following the next few seconds, the renter was grabbed, and before he knew it an aching erupted through his back, like he’d been stabbed. Well, he’d of said that if he hadn’t seen the old man above him with a blood soaked knife in his hand.

He had been stabbed, and by the owner of the renter house. Now that he was thinking about it, it was as if he was living some king of fucked up horror movie: and of course he played the role of the stupid house renter that trusted the cozy owners.

The loss of blood worried the renter, but he found himself standing once more, and he began to curse at the man. Perhaps he thought he was an intruder? No, no. The grin on his face wouldn’t be there if he had.

“Mi casa es su casa.” The owner had smiled eerily, before plunging the knife back into his renter and watching his body fall to the floor.

That would make up for next weeks dinner, and a nice home warming meal for the next renter, the owner planned familiarly.

Comments 1