“I think you’ll be comfortable. It’s only a one bed apartment, we have six dwellings in Taylor Wimpey's The Denizen but if we put you in one of our bigger flats you’d be sharing it with others. Most of the year they're all left empty but when we visit London we like to have a lot friends with us. Originally we only had five flats here but we were able to buy the sixth one cheaply and fully furnished after a woman committed suicide in it. Would you like to go and see it now? By Yanluo, I believe that you are right, and that we are going to have a thunderstorm. How dark it has become.”
Tag: The Barbican
I must have been sitting on a chair on the balcony for hours. The evening shadows were drawing on apace, so I hurried back into the living room, feeling it was weird to be there all alone with every one of the other 98 apartments in The Denizen unoccupied. I knew these were ghost homes that the owners had bought as investments and not to live in, but even so it seemed odd that besides me there was only the concierge in the building. The sun had sunk below the horizon by this time. With my own eyes I saw that one of the doors I had shut was standing wide open! I turned to the other two bedroom doors. They were closed as I had left them. It was the master bedroom door that had moved. For a second I stood appalled and frightened.
There was nothing in the bland external appearance of Taylor Wimpey’s luxury apartment block The Denizen to bear out the tales of the horror that were said to reign within. It was neither lonely nor unkempt. It was packed in between the Barbican and Golden Lane Estate, and looked exactly like similar developments aimed at property investors throughout London and beyond. It may not have been aimed at the very wealthiest investors, and so it did not boast a private swimming pool, but there was a private cinema and games room. And yet this apartment block in Golden Lane, externally was extremely similar to dozens of other bland and ugly ghost home developments on the City fringe, was entirely different, horribly different. Wherein lay this marked, invisible difference is impossible to say. It cannot be ascribed wholly to the imagination, because persons who had spent some time in The Denizen, knowing nothing of the facts, had declared positively that certain flats were so disagreeable they would rather die than enter them again, and that the atmosphere of the apartment block produced in them symptoms of a genuine terror...