If someone had told me, back then, that there was “another world” beyond what we see, with spirits and jinn and things that watch us when we’re alone, I would have laughed in their face.
I believed in what I could touch, measure, and explain. Nothing else.
All of that changed in the new apartment.
Before I tell you what happened there, let me introduce myself.
My name is Farida. I’m 26 years old. I’m married—my husband’s name is Ahmed. We still don’t have children yet. I’m from Alexandria originally, but when Ahmed got a security job in Cairo with a decent salary, we packed our things and moved.
Ahmed works as a night guard in a company.
That means most nights, I sleep alone… and he comes home in the morning to sleep while I stay awake.
We had just moved into a cheap rented flat in a crowded, popular neighborhood. I didn’t know anyone there. I didn’t even know the local shops; Ahmed bought everything for the house on his way back from work.
The building has six floors.
Strangely, only two apartments are occupied: ours on the third floor, and one on the second.
The second-floor apartment belongs to a woman everyone calls “Umm Ahed.” She’s… different. A butcher by trade; she owns a butcher’s shop and works there herself. She has only one daughter—Ahed—who’s married and lives elsewhere.
When Ahmed asked around why the whole building was empty, people told him the reason in one word: Dogs.
Umm Ahed loves dogs. Not one or two—she raises them like other people raise plants. The worst of them, according to the neighbors, is a massive dog named “Shakoush” (Hammer). Just one look at him, they said, and anyone thinking of renting in the building runs away.
Ahmed asked why the landlord didn’t just evict her.
They told him the owners were from the countryside and rarely came to the city. They were scared of getting into a fight with Umm Ahed and preferred to avoid trouble.
Honestly, neither Ahmed nor I were particularly afraid of dogs.
The first time I saw Shakoush, I jumped back a little—he is huge—but I told myself I’d get used to it. The rent was low. That mattered more.
Our apartment on the third floor was nice enough. Old metal-and-glass door with a narrow glass panel—you could see the silhouette of anyone standing outside, and they could see yours. I didn’t like that, but the rest of the flat was fine.
For a while, everything was normal.
Until I saw… something.
I’m a night owl. I stay awake while Ahmed is at work, then we have breakfast together when he comes home and we sleep. One night, I was in the living room, TV blaring like always, when my eyes drifted to the front door.
There was a shape standing behind the glass panel.
A human silhouette. Someone just… standing there.
My first thought was: Ahmed came home early.
Then I glanced at the clock. 3 a.m.
He never comes at 3 a.m.
I stood up, took a few steps toward the door… then stopped.
If it was Ahmed, why wasn’t he opening with his key?
I told myself, Maybe he forgot the key at work. Maybe he’s waiting for you to open.
But if he’d forgotten it, wouldn’t he knock? Call? Say my name?
The fear seeped in slowly.
I stood there in the middle of the room, my heart pounding. I knew I had to do something; I couldn’t just stand and stare at the door all night. I forced myself to move.
The moment I took a step toward the door… the lights went out.
I screamed without thinking.
A few seconds later, the power came back. I blinked, glanced at the TV, the lamp… then snapped my head toward the door.
The silhouette was gone.
I didn’t feel “scared.” I was beyond scared.
I sat on the couch, eyes glued to the door, like I was waiting for it to move again. I stayed like that until daylight crept through the window. Only when Ahmed came home with breakfast did I realize how long I’d been frozen.
He took one look at me and asked: “What’s wrong, Farida? You look like you saw a ghost.”
“I saw… something. And I can’t explain it.”
“What happened?”
I told him everything. How I was watching TV, how I’d seen someone standing outside the door, how the power had cut, how the silhouette had vanished.
Ahmed laughed.
“So what, it was a ghost? Come on, Farida. You probably imagined it. Don’t overthink it. Let’s eat and sleep.”
I didn’t believe his explanation. But I tried to push the whole thing to the back of my mind.
I woke up in the afternoon; Ahmed was still asleep. I felt restless, so I decided to go buy something sweet from a nearby shop.
I dressed and left the flat. Shakoush was lying on the stairs, huge and silent. He didn’t growl, didn’t bark, didn’t move—just watched me pass. Strangely, that comforted me.
I wasn’t gone more than ten minutes.
When I came back and stepped into the building’s entrance, I saw a little girl, maybe twelve years old, playing there alone. I thought she might be related to Umm Ahed.
As I started up the stairs, she called out: “Are you the new lady who moved in, aunty?”
“Yes, sweetheart.”
“What’s your name?”
I smiled. “Farida. What’s yours?”
“My name is Samah. But please, don't tell Auntie Umm Ahed that you saw me playing here, okay?”
“Why?”
“She yells at me if she finds me in the entrance.”
“Where do you live, Samah?”
“Next to you. You’ll see me playing here every day. Just… don’t tell her.”
I laughed softly. “Alright. I won’t.”
That night, I was alone again.
And for some reason, my whole mind was focused on two things: the clock… and the door.
I kept checking both.
When the clock hit 3 a.m., I looked at the door—and what I’d been dreading happened.
The silhouette was there again.
Same shape. Same position.
No way I could call it “imagination” this time.
It didn’t move. It just stood there.
While I was frozen in fear, I heard barking—loud, frantic barking. Shakoush, from downstairs.
The silhouette vanished.
That broke the spell. I ran to the door and flung it open.
Shakoush was standing right outside my flat.
He wasn’t looking at me; he was staring up the stairs toward the upper floors, barking like he wanted to tear someone apart.
I wasn’t afraid of him. Quite the opposite: I felt safer with him there. And I knew, just as clearly, that what I was seeing at night wasn’t “in my head.”
When Ahmed came home, I told him everything. Again.
He still tried to convince me it was all in my imagination. Maybe horror movies, he said. Maybe foreign films had affected me too much.
That’s when I decided I wouldn’t tell him anything else about the shadow.
And I decided to speak to the woman downstairs.
I waited until Ahmed went to work, then went to knock on Umm Ahed’s door. She hadn’t left for the butcher shop yet.
She opened and I introduced myself. She invited me in.
To my surprise, she wasn’t scary at all. Simple, talkative, almost warm. In the middle of our conversation, I told her: “I’m sorry, Umm Ahed. I had a really bad impression of you before I met you.”
She chuckled. “What impression?”
“Well… people said everyone is afraid to live in this building because of your dog, Shakoush.”
She snorted. “They lied to you. Shakoush only barks at strangers. Anyone who lives here becomes his friend. And people don’t leave because of him, no. There’s… another reason.”
My skin prickled. “Another reason?”
“Nobody told you?” she asked, eyebrows raised.
“Told me what? I don’t really talk to anyone.”
She sighed. “Last year, there was an accident in this building. After that, everyone left. Only me and Shakoush stayed.”
My voice dropped. “What accident?”
“In the ground-floor flat. A family lived there with a little girl. One day, the girl was playing in the room. They had one of those small metal ovens up on top of the wardrobe. We don’t know how it happened—the oven fell. Straight onto the girl. She died on the spot.”
She continued, quieter now. “The police came. They investigated. In the end, they said: fate. An accident. But after that, strange things started happening. People saw shadows on the stairs. Some said they saw small children running inside their apartments, disappearing when they got too close. Stories, stories… and every few months, another family would pack up and leave.”
I felt like someone had pulled the floor out from under me.
I wasn’t the first one to see a shadow on that door.
“Weren’t you scared?” I asked. “Why didn’t you leave too?”
“Scared of what?” she laughed. “If it’s a ghost, what’s it going to do? I’m not afraid of them. Maybe they’re afraid of me and of Shakoush.”
She laughed so loudly that I forced a smile… but it didn’t reach my eyes.
I left her apartment and went back upstairs, my head swirling with everything I’d heard. I told Ahmed nothing.
That night, he left for work, and I sat waiting for 3 a.m. I decided to act like Umm Ahed: ignore it and get it over with. Let the shadow come or go, it was its business. At 3 a.m. sharp, the shadow appeared, standing as usual.
But this time, I decided to play. I turned on a silly play on TV, turned up the volume, and started laughing loudly and exaggeratedly, as if to say: "Your presence doesn't concern me."
Maybe this provocation annoyed him.
Suddenly... a knock on the door. Three clear knocks.
The blood froze in my veins.
It was no longer just a standing shadow. Now, someone was knocking on the door.
My laughter died down.
The TV fell silent in my ears, though it was still playing. I kept my eyes fixed on the door, not moving.
It knocked three times, then fell silent.
I was waiting for it to call my name, to say: "Open, Farida."
He didn't speak.
But that did not lessen my terror.
After what felt like a long time, the shadow disappeared.
I followed it with crying... until exhaustion put me to sleep.
When Ahmed returned, I couldn't hide the fatigue on my face. He kept asking, but I didn't want to answer. If I told him about the knocking, he would say again: "This is just imagination."
Even so, the next night was harder. I didn't sleep.
Around 9 a.m., I decided to go out for a walk. In the entrance, I found Samah playing as usual. I asked her: "Are you okay, Samah?"
She said: "I'm scared."
I was surprised. "Of what?"
"I'm not the one who is scared... you are."
Her answer slapped me.
"Scared of who?"
"Of the uncle who lives upstairs, the one who stands in front of your door at night."
Every answer from her was a riddle.
I asked her: "Who is this uncle?"
"The one everyone who lived in your apartment said they saw. He stands in front of the door, and sometimes he knocks, and sometimes he tries to open the door. That's why people don't stay here long. Even you, it seems, won't stay long."
I felt my legs give way, my heart drop.
So he also tries to open the door?
Was I living in a dream, a nightmare, or what exactly?
Before I could ask more, we heard Umm Ahed coming down from upstairs.
Samah told me quickly: "Auntie Umm Ahed is coming, I'm going. If she sees me here she'll yell at me. Don't forget, don't tell her you saw me."
And she went.
She left me alone, my head about to explode.
In the evening, Ahmed told me he took two days off; he wouldn't be working at night.
I was happy beyond words. I hugged him and started eating like someone who hadn't eaten in years.
At night, I prepared the evening: popcorn, juice, everything. I asked him to stay up with me until morning, so he could see with his own eyes what I saw.
We sat together on the couch, my eyes never leaving the door.
The clock was ticking slowly.
Finally, 3 a.m. arrived...
I saw him. Or I saw nothing.
The shadow did not appear.
A minute passed, two, ten. Nothing.
I started asking myself: "Does he know Ahmed is here? Does he only want to scare me? Does he want to make me look crazy in front of my husband?"
By 4 a.m., I was exhausted. I told Ahmed: "I'm going to sleep." And indeed, I slept.
The next night, the same thing happened: I waited, and the shadow didn't show up.
When Ahmed's rest ended and he went back to work, I said to myself: "Great. If it doesn't show up today, the whole thing was just stress."
But when I checked the door at 3 a.m... the shadow appeared, clear, standing.
I didn't even have a laugh left in me.
I was about to scream from frustration: haven't you had enough of me?
He stood, looking larger than usual.
Three knocks.
And then, the whole door shook.
Someone was grabbing it, shaking it, as if trying to open it by force.
Then I remembered Samah's words: "Sometimes he tries to open the door on them."
I couldn't bear it. I started screaming: "Who? Who are you? Who is at the door?"
No one answered.
Only the sound of metal moving.
"Who are you? Who?!"
And I was crying.
Afterward, everything fell silent.
No more shaking, no knocking, no shadow.
I kept calling out until I got tired... and fell asleep where I was.
In the morning, Ahmed came and woke me up. I was about to tell him, but we heard noises in the stairs; people running, a lot of them.
I said in my heart: "He wasn't satisfied with the night, he came to finish me off in the day."
Ahmed went to the door despite me trying to hold him back.
He opened it, and saw the police going up, going to the top floor.
We didn't understand anything.
He told me: "Stay here, I'll go see what's happening."
He went down, and I went out to the balcony.
I saw two police cars in the street. Ahmed went down talking to an officer.
He stayed for about ten minutes, then came up.
I asked: "What happened?"
He answered me with a smile: "Nothing, my dear, there was someone living on the roof of the building, not a tenant, a thief. He's been living here for months, coming in and out without anyone knowing."
"How is he living there? And where does he enter and exit?"
"From the building next to us. He climbs to the roof there, crosses over to our roof, and comes down. The building next to us has a doctor's clinic, people coming and going, so nobody suspects anything."
Then he added: "In the interrogation, he confessed to everything. He said he was the one scaring the tenants, making them believe the house was haunted so they would leave it empty. He would stand in front of the doors, knock, shake the lock... until they ran away. And of course, he didn't go near Umm Ahed because he was afraid of Shakoush."
I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
No jinn, no ghosts. Just a corrupt human being.
After they caught him, days went back to normal.
Every time I remembered what happened to me, I laughed a little at myself and cursed the thief a lot.
And I went back to saying: "There are no ghosts or anything."
Until the last day came.
I was going down to buy something, and when I passed by the ground-floor flat, the one where the girl had died, I found its door open. Her family had come to take the rest of the furniture.
As I was walking, I saw in a box a picture of a little girl. A girl I knew very well.
Samah.
The same smile, the same eyes.
At that moment, Umm Ahed came down, and I stopped her, pointing at the picture: "Who is this girl?"
She said quietly: "That's the girl who died here, may she rest in peace."
I felt like someone hit me on the head. "Samah"... she was the dead girl. I understood why she always told me: "Don't tell Auntie Umm Ahed you saw me." I understood why she disappeared as soon as she heard her voice. My legs started shaking, and I even forgot why I was going down.
I went back up to our apartment, and halfway up the stairs, I saw her.
Samah, standing, laughing, her eyes on me.
"Aren't you going to come play with me for a bit, aunty?"
The end.
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