I usually don’t write my experiences down in journals like this. Typically, I’d prefer to just keep my unsavory memories in my head to let them rot away over time, which makes the pain easier to cope with. However, with everything that has happened to me recently, I’d feel guilty if I just let all those traumatic experiences simply be forgotten about, especially since they involve friends and people so dear to me… So, I shall tell the story of that godforsaken Airbnb and how it led me down a rabbithole of paranoia and grief, while trying to remain as accurate as possible so I can give myself peace of mind.
I go by the name of Muse. I know it’s strange-sounding, but I always hold a fondness for it. I’m just your average independent adult living out their life, with not much else to add. Besides my uninteresting past, the most special thing in my life were my two closest friends, Courtney and Marigold.
We all met when we were children and have been inseparable since. Courtney was always funny and energetic, often whisking us away into trips and hangouts in town where she would make us laugh with her jokes. And Marigold was my best friend, her extremely kind and loving personality helped me through a lot of dark times, where she listened to my worries and gave me helpful advice that truly made me feel safe and strong. These positively similar yet different people complimented my quiet and shy personality well and made for some incredibly unforgettable memories. For many years and well into our collective adulthood, we all shared a strong bond that seemed like it'd never end.
Sadly, nothing lasts forever. About a month ago as of me writing this, Marigold died unexpectedly. In the days leading up to the death, she complained about feeling paranoid and being stalked in her own house to me and Courtney in our group chat. Since this all started happening after she found a dead drunk driver in his car as a result of a horrible accident a little while before, we both just reassured her that she was fine and felt guilty from seeing the horrific sight. Looking back, we should've listened to her more, like she did for us.
When Marigold suddenly stopped responding to our messages and wasn’t reaching out like she always did, we assumed the silence meant something was very wrong, since it was so unlike her usual behavior. After a few days of this, I drove an hour to her house out of worry and being the closest nearby out of anyone she knew. I remember knocking on the door and feeling frantic when she didn’t answer. I then found the hidden house key she mentioned to me before and let myself in. The lights were off and everything was eerily silent, the complete opposite from how she normally lived. When I reached her bedroom, I opened the door and screamed when I saw her lying in her bed with her throat slit and dried blood all over neck, knife on the floor right under her overhanging hand.
When the police got there and briefly investigated, they ruled it as a suicide. I felt confused and disbelief at this, since Marigold never showed any signs of suicidal thoughts or even anything else wrong beside the paranoia. Still, they couldn’t find any evidence of foul play, so I just had to accept it, which was easier said than done… The image of her dead body and the trauma of me being the first one to find out gave me terrible nightmares and anxiety, not to mention the guilt of not knowing sooner. And I even started to develop paranoid thoughts and daydreams myself, much like what she described… I’ve never had these issues before, so maybe this was what grief and seeing death does to people?
Regardless, losing her was the most painful thing I’ve ever gone through before. Marigold’s comforting talks to us and her advice on never giving up and being true to ourselves were a lifeline to both Courtney and I. Her fun hangouts and warm embraces being gone as well opened a wound in our hearts we won’t recover from. She was an irreplaceable treasure, and now, she’s gone, just like that, no warning, no last goodbyes, no nothing… That’s the most horrible kind of death, to be honest, the type where it just comes out of nowhere and the person you love is just gone forever, never to be seen again… It’s so cruel, but it happens to everyone, even if that doesn’t make it any less painful.
I didn’t have much of a chance to grieve, or even cry, since her funeral was coming up just a week afterwards and we were personally involved in the arrangements. It was going to be a closed casket funeral and she would be buried in the hometown where she grew up with her family, which was over two hours from my apartment. Since I was going to be there for a few days and I had to help with the preparations and will-related stuff before the ceremony itself, I decided to rent an Airbnb in the town that was very close by to the cemetery.
I know Airbnbs don’t exactly have the best reputation when it comes to security or the real estate economy, but the ones in the area were cheaper than hotels and would allow me to relax and relive some nostalgic memories growing up in that town with Marigold and Courtney. Besides, she was so close to me and I owe it to her as her best friend, which is why I wanted to help with the funeral and be there for her family and friends.
And so, I found one just two miles away from the cemetery for a really cheap rental rate. The house itself was a standard suburban one story home with a backyard next to the woods and an extended patio porch. It looked kind of weird and creepy, to be honest, I never really liked old houses like that very much… Even so, the price and proximity made it too good to pass up. This led me to book the reservation and contact the client, who was the only suspicious part of the whole deal. He went by the name of Mr. Abode (I know it’s stupid, believe me) and he seemed enthusiastic to let me rent out the place. He even lowered the price a lot after I explained my situation, which was nice yet odd. Still, I didn’t complain, I was there for my recently deceased platonic soulmate, not for weird owners and their possibly fake names.
I would be staying for four nights and five days there, for all the arrangements, the funeral itself, and then a hangout with Courtney around town for the last day before we headed home. Honestly, I wasn’t too keen on being in a creepy stranger’s house for that long and I was dreading the depression and grief the coming events would surely bring, me not taking these kinds of feelings well before in the past. But, it was for Marigold, and I’d do anything for her. Just a few days and this would all be over, right? Even though I didn’t want to confront her death, I knew I couldn't escape it forever, especially with the growing paranoia inside of me.
...
Soon after, I began the drive to the Airbnb. I left three days before the funeral would begin and knew I would get there at around sunset. The drive was nothing spectacular, and I got there after going through the countryside for a couple of hours. The house itself was nestled away on the backstreet of some rundown neighborhood, one I remember passing by but never visiting myself as a child. As I pulled into the driveway to park my car, I saw the outside of the property. Other than having more features in the back and a large porch that extended out into the driveway, it looked like any other house nearby. Sure, it was kind of weird and in a sketchy part of town, but the price and size were quite good, so hopefully there wouldn't be any further red flags.
I then got out of the car and took my luggage out from the trunk before proceeding to walk up to the house’s side door. I couldn’t use the front one since I didn’t have the key, and the one under the porch was locked with a security code. Mr. Abode told me the code when we emailed each other earlier, so I memorized it and should’ve had no trouble getting inside.
When I stepped up to the alcove where it was located, I swear I heard a car door slamming somewhere off in the distance. I looked behind me and around my field of view, but didn’t see anything. It was probably a neighbor or something, no big deal. I then shifted my attention back to the door and saw it had a combination lock hanging on the knob. I proceeded to spend the next minute or so dialing in the code I learned. When I entered it correctly and saw the lock wouldn’t budge, I tried it again. Same thing as last time, nothing. After another minute of frustrated fiddling with it, I tilted my head further up and saw a digital keypad that rested above the knob. Realizing my silly mistake, I punched in the code there and it unlocked instantly, to my relief.
Chuckling briefly to myself, I opened the door and stepped inside. I carried my suitcase across the threshold and saw the entire house’s lights were off and I was standing in the kitchen area. The layout of the kitchenette was odd, as it was like a small thin hallway instead of a full-sized room. The sink and cabinets were built into the wall on one side, while the microwave and oven appliances were on the other. And there appeared to be… a closet in the middle of the tall cabinets’ section, which was very odd to see there, to say the least. And this weird setup extended halfway across the house before it poured into what appeared to be the living room.
As I was finishing taking in the surreal architecture of the place, it suddenly hit me. Nature called, and I had to find a restroom quickly. I hadn't gone that day, since I was very busy with the preparations and travelling there. Not being able to hold it in any longer, I put my luggage down and ran forward down the kitchen hall, desperately searching for the bathroom. To my luck, one was right ahead of me, in the middle of a branching hallway with the door open, revealing a much-desired toilet.
While I was in there doing my business, I heard what sounded like a door creaking from further inside somewhere. My heart rate sped up and my body tensed at the sound. I swiftly finished up and exited the bathroom, looking around for the source. Nothing seemed different, however. Then again, I didn’t even take a good look around the place, so maybe I just wasn’t used to house noises like that could’ve been.
As I further scanned my surroundings, I saw the potential source. The outside door I came in from was shut, my suitcase still on the floor in front of it. I thought to myself, trying to remember exactly what happened. I was in such a hurry, I wasn’t paying attention. Did I shut it myself right after coming in, or not? I wouldn't leave it open, right? I then shrugged it off shortly afterwards. It didn’t really matter, it was just a small detail not worth stressing over.
Then, I proceeded to walk over to it and grab my luggage before taking a further look around the Airbnb, curious about the place I would be staying at for the next few days. Past the door and kitchen was the living room, which had some odd features. It was mostly barren, apart from a large couch, a coffee table, a dresser with a flat screen TV on it, some unremarkable paintings of fish, and… a large black steel wood-burning furnace smack dab in the middle of the room for some unexplained reason. There were even logs of real wood next to it on the brick podium it stood on, and a giant metal pipe ran from the top of it and into the ceiling, acting as a sort of chimney. It didn’t make any sense, why would anyone think it was a good idea to put this in the middle of a house? It looked so out of place.
Upon further inspection of the living room’s surrounding walls, I noticed not one, but three closets on each side that were built into them and painted to camouflage them from view. I wondered why that was even necessary, since that would make them more difficult to use. Interested, I slowly went to each one and slid them open. One was empty, another had board games and art supplies in it, and the other had some random person’s old clothes in it (hopefully not Mr. Abode’s). I shook my head and tried to ignore the oddities of the house, but my intrigue got the better of me.
On the far side of the living room, the front door was there that led outside. Next to it, was another door that led somewhere further inside. I walked over to it and opened it, revealing a large bedroom that was submerged in total darkness, not having any windows. I flicked on the light switch and it illuminated everything instantly. A large king-sized bed, a small TV on a dresser, a nightstand with a lamp, and a closet were all that was there. I then took a closer look and noticed another door that led to what I assumed was a small restroom on the far side of the room, different from the one I used just a few minutes earlier.
I went inside and my assumption was correct. Just a small room with a sink and toilet, but no bathtub or shower. But then, I saw what appeared to be another hidden closet built into the far side of the room next to the toilet. Suspending my absolute disbelief, I opened it and saw a dark crawl space with what appeared to be another closet within that closet. Now feeling nervous for some unexplained reason, I tried to open the secondary door, only for it to be either locked or jammed, I couldn't tell which one. I backed out slowly and decided to leave it alone and put it out of my mind.
I trudged back to the living room and faced towards the branching hall I went down when I first entered. Apart from the large bathroom (which had a shower, a large glass window above it, and no weird closets), both paths led to a medium-sized bedroom in each. The two rooms were nearly identical in contents: A queen-sized bed, a closet, a window, a nightstand, a dresser, a chair, and a ceiling fan. Where they differed was while one had white walls and matching bedsheets, the other was blue in its color-scheme. However, I then saw another, more disturbing discrepancy between them. The white bedroom had what appeared to be a sealed off crawl space in the far corner’s wall, a hatch that appeared to be glued shut. I shuddered thinking about why it was sealed, or what was in it.
I got out of there quickly and went back into the hall. That’s when I saw a familiar sight yet again. Two more closets on either end of the hallway, both camouflaged and blended into the walls. I didn’t see them before, since they were hidden in the darkest corners and hard to see unless you stared at them from a certain angle. I was getting a little freaked out by that point, wondering why the hell there were so many weird closets in seemingly every part of the Airbnb. Once again, I opened them and found nothing in either one. Even though it was kind of nerve-wracking, I was hellbent on seeing the rest of the property, hoping it would put these anxieties to rest.
Once more, I headed back to the living room and stared at the only side I hadn't explored yet, the center of it acting like an atrium of a massive, beating heart. Past the furnace, there was a large brown table with eight chairs surrounding it, acting as a makeshift dining area of sorts. On the wall beyond it, a sliding glass door displayed the backyard outside it.
I went over and unlocked it before sliding it open, the hot afternoon breeze hitting my face. Directly across the threshold, a small roofed patio was there that consisted of a few chairs around an empty firepit and nothing else. Beyond that, a metal fence lined the perimeter, where a quite steep hill rose up into thick trees and woodlands behind it, creating an odd sight that looked surreal. The right side of the yard had nothing but fresh cut grass as far as the eye could see. The left side, however, was far more… interesting, you could say.
A stone pathway stretched from the patio and to another, more larger one, where an unused old basketball hoop stood and… another damn closet. This was getting ridiculous at that point, and I threw it open once again. Nothing, not even shelves or hangers were inside, as expected. I then turned around and saw that the roofed path led to a small maintenance or toolshed at the end, on the edge of the property. Curious about the small structure's contents, I strided over to its door and attempted to pull it open. It was locked and I lacked the key to open it. There was a small window on its side and I tried to look though it, but it was too high for me to reach. I gave up quickly, not feeling it was worth the effort, since it was probably just standard toolshed stuff inside.
To put my mind at ease, I searched the fence and lining walls once again. I found yet another outside closet on the far left side, this one camouflaged into the house’s foundation somehow. Of course, there was nothing in there and that’s when I quit trying to make sense of this nightmare of architecture. It was also getting dark by then, so I went inside and locked all the doors in order to relax and calm down.
I paced around the living room and tried to think about all I saw and heard since arriving at the Airbnb. But the more I rationalized it, the more freaked out I became. The door sound I heard while using the bathroom started to get under my skin, along with the house's odd layout, features, and general unsettling vibes it gave off. Why were there so many closets? There had to be about twenty of them in total. Why were so many of them hidden? Who thought putting them on the outside walls, kitchen, and even the bathroom would be such a good idea? What did those creepy crawl spaces and locked shed doors contain? Wouldn't using the furnace be such a fire hazard? Was that sound really a house noise? Was I alone…? I didn't have the answers to these endless questions that arose from my anxiety, and thinking about them only made it worse.
I then took a deep breath and chalked it all up to just strange outdated design quirks. It might explain why the price was so low and why Mr. Abode seemed eager to let me rent it. I was just overthinking it all because I was upset at Marigold’s recent passing, I thought, letting my fear and paranoia get the better of me. It was just a rundown Airbnb, that was all. I’ve been through worse and would only be there a short while, even if the place gave me the willies. I should just get through it and focus on what I came there to do: Help Marigold’s family and friends put her to rest. She would want me to do that, along with Courtney. This made my body and heart slow down a bit and I felt like my usual self again.
Using this relief, I unpacked my suitcase and quickly got ready for bed. It was dark outside and I was pretty tired from the day’s trip there and all the frantic searching, so I decided to go to sleep early. I had a busy day tomorrow, after all. I chose to sleep in the blue bedroom, considering it was the most normal room in the house without any oddities. I shut the room’s door and locked it just to be safe before climbing into the soft bed and resting my eyes.
Somehow, feeling tired made me feel less afraid, likely because my mind was slowing down. It felt funny, thinking about how an odd house was scaring me so much. Sure, it was like a real life House of Leaves, but the owner wouldn't let people rent it if there was something wrong with it. It’s not like I’d be in there the whole time anyway. I needed to face this horrible tragedy that happened to Marigold, whether I wanted to or not.
As my consciousness began to drift off, I hoped that I wouldn't have any bad dreams or further paranoia. And I also wondered if the Airbnb’s eeriness would get to me or not.
...
...
The next morning came fast, and I woke up with a tinge of melancholy once I finally remembered where I was and why I was there. The dream was part of it, yes, but the thought of having to arrange the burial of my best friend saddened me so much… I didn't want to think about it, but I had to. The silver lining was that I slept okay otherwise in that creepy house, at least.
Right after, I swiftly got up and prepared for the trip to the funeral home, where the arrangement appointment took place in less than an hour. Even though I didn’t need to rush, with the destination being only ten minutes away, I just wanted to get it over and done with. Within mere moments, I was driving in my car, speeding away from that place, and it felt great to get out of there for a bit.
Very soon, I was there and parked the car in front of the depressing looking Victorian house that acted as the venue to where the local dead went. Not wanting to think about it too much, I hastily went inside and waited in the lobby for the appointment to start. It was pretty boring, to be honest. I was too out of it to scroll on my phone, but there was nothing else to do. This led me to sort of swirl around in my dark thoughts for what seemed like an eternity.
Once an untold amount of time passed, I heard the door open and looked to see a familiar face walk in.
“Muse? You’re here!”, Courtney said in relief, noticing me instantly.
I wasn’t too surprised, since we were supposed to meet up there to do the whole thing together, but a big grin creeped its way onto my face for the first time since before Marigold’s passing. I stood up and nodded before replying: “Yeah… It’s nice to see you again.” We hadn’t seen each other at all in months, and I think it overwhelmed her.
Without another word, she walked over to me and hugged me for a long moment, clearly trying to fight back tears as she spoke again. “I’m sorry it took me this long to come and do this… It must’ve been so hard for you, seeing the aftermath and arranging all this ahead of time.”, she stated with sorrow, “But now I’m here. And I promise that we’ll get through this together, for Marigold’s sake. She was my best friend, too.”
She then let me go as I struggled to answer at first, before soon settling with, “It’s alright… You’re right, let’s just work through this, one step at a time.”, as a way to ease the tension I felt from the whole exchange.
This seemed to satisfy Courtney, who simply smiled wryly and took a seat next to me before falling silent. She probably knew I wasn’t doing too well at that time, so her normally talkative and energetic self was replaced with a more sad and pulled-back demeanor. This tragedy was affecting her more than I thought, and the more I saw her downcast mood, the more I wanted to just get it all done as soon as possible. I didn’t want to face this, but it’s inevitable… She was even acting more like what Marigold did for me when I was having trouble in the past, possibly as a way to cope. This only made the already long wait feel even more unbearable as the minutes turned into hours.
Eventually, we were called into the back of the building for the appointment. It went fine, we just filled out some paperwork and finalized the funeral’s timeline, events, and other logistical stuff. Sure, it was sad to think about, but we didn’t see Marigold’s body, so it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. It all took about an hour of negotiations total, nothing crazy.
After that, Courtney and I went our separate ways. She was staying at her childhood family's house nearby, which is where she went once we left the funeral home. I, on the other hand, decided to take a trip to the local supermarket to buy some food to keep in the Airbnb for the next few days. I spent about an hour there before heading back. I just got a few pre-made meals and some basic snacks, nothing special.
I spent the rest of the afternoon and evening just chilling out in the living room, bored out of my mind. Due to being out in the rural parts of the state, there wasn’t anything very interesting on the TV’s limited selection of channels. Aside from a news report on a possible serial killer on the loose in a few neighboring states, I didn’t really pay attention. I mostly just doomscrolled on various social media sites. I stopped after a few hours once I saw posts of people talking about Marigold and celebrating her life. I knew it wouldn’t be good for my mental state at that moment, so I turned my phone off.
It was getting closer to night then, which motivated me to fix myself some dinner and get ready to sleep. It would be an early night once again, as settling family matters all day tomorrow would certainly be more exhausting than what I did earlier that day. I dreaded it, but at least sleeping seemed to temporarily push back these uncomfortable thoughts and events, so it seemed like a fair trade to me.
Doing the same thing as the previous night, I brushed my teeth, changed into sleepwear, charged my phone, and then proceeded to climb into bed. I fell asleep faster than I did previously, which felt nice. The last thought I remember having was whether or not I would be able to get through the coming days without too much pain and suffering.
...
...
I woke up to what sounded like a loud bang hitting the bedroom door. I sat up and was breathing heavily, my entire body in a cold sweat. The room was pitch black and it must’ve been some time in the dead of night. Putting aside the disturbing nightmare I had, I tried to analyze what the sound I heard on the edge of sleep exactly was.
The closest I could describe it was a fist pounding on the wood of the door. That implied quite a scary thought: That someone else was in the house with me. Feeling scared now, I spent what was probably over fifteen minutes listening for any other noises. Nothing else rang out, however. This made me calm down a lot, since it was unlikely someone actually was there. I was still waking up, so who knows if there was even a sound at all, it was probably just a bad dream. It was also the middle of the night and I doubted there’s anything valuable there to steal. Even if it was real, what could someone possibly do? The bedroom door was locked and I would hear them if they continued to make a racket.
Taking a few deep breaths, I laid back down and fell fast asleep once again. It seemed the upcoming funeral was getting to me more than I thought. The stress and expectations made me feel a bit frustrated that I was supposed to be perfect and not be too upset. I missed Marigold, and I wish she was there to comfort me. Her departed warmth helped me sleep, even if only a little bit longer.
I woke up a few hours later and was once again ready to get out of bed and go to Marigold’s childhood home to help out her family with the will and assets. I completely forgot about the banging sound the previous evening, more pressing matters on my mind then. I quickly ate some snacks and got dressed before getting in my car to leave, leaving behind that ominous place for the time being.
It took a good twenty minutes or so before I arrived at Marigold's parents' house. To my surprise, Courtney had already arrived and was standing out in the driveway, seemingly waiting for me. I finished pulling in and parked the car, then proceeded to take the initiative in speaking to her that time.
“Courtney… It’s good to see you here so early.”, I said with a bit of awkwardness, “I know this will be rough, so let’s just keep ourselves together. That’s what she would’ve wanted, right…?”
Luckily, this morphed her sour expression into a slight smile. “Heh… Glad to know she’s rubbed off on ya too.”, she stated with a chuckle. She then crossed her arms and regretfully remarked, “Anywho, you know what’s comin’. This’ll be hard, for sure…”
Knowing what she was referring to, I nodded solemnly. “Yeah… It hurts to do all this so much…”, I responded honestly, “It may stress me out, but it’s a part of life, I guess.”
Sensing my internal struggles, Courtney put her hand on my shoulder and silently reassured me to move on to the next stage of this long process of burying the dead. It didn’t hurt as bad when she was around.
Not too long later, we both went inside and met up with Marigold’s parents. Everything went fine at first, with them being happy to see us and talking about their daughter happily. But as they moved on to conversing about her assets and possessions, tears were shed and things got quite heavy. Especially once we went to her childhood bedroom to discuss what to do with everything there. It was heartbreaking and I tried to hold in my sorrow as much as I could.
The whole process lasted for about six hours, and it was torture to endure all the crying and sadness from everyone else. I was worried I couldn’t handle the funeral the next day the whole time. It might sound a bit harsh, but I was glad to eventually get it done and get out of there, since I’m not the best at this kind of thing.
The sun was setting when I finally got back to the Airbnb and while I was relieved to be done with the day’s tasks, the impending dread of what tomorrow would bring and going back inside that unsettling house caused me to feel worried and nervous. Turns out, I was right to feel that way.
The moment I walked through the door and shut it, my heart nearly stopped when I saw an open bag of potato chips sitting on the table, a few stray pieces scattered about near it. I know I didn’t leave that there when I left… Or did I? I was in such a rush this morning and was so nervous about the asset talks, that I don’t remember for sure what I exactly did that morning. I mean, I didn't recall leaving food out on the table. Then again, I did eat some chips as a quick snack. Maybe I was careless? In addition, would an intruder really leave out an obvious sign they were there like that? It seems far-fetched to think they would be that messy. Nevertheless, I did search a few of the closets and rooms to ease my concerns. Of course, I found nothing and didn’t hear or see anything strange. I sighed heavily and said “guess there’s nobody here, after all” to myself as confirmation.
With that, I managed to put the bad feelings I got out of my mind and do my usual routine of doomscrolling, eating, and getting ready to sleep. Staying at this surprisingly cheap house was way more boring than I thought it’d be, but it was only for a couple more days. I was pretty mad at the layout for some reason and how Mr. Abode didn’t mention it, though that feeling quickly disappeared once I realized how tired I was. At the same time in the early evening as before, I was in bed and out like a light, hoping I could have an uninterrupted night of sleep once again.
...
...
Another noise woke me up. This time, it sounded like someone laughing down the hall just outside my room. Even though it scared me shitless, it also gave me a surge of adrenaline. I wanted to figure out what was going on once and for all, and I didn’t care what could happen at that moment.
In just a few seconds, I leaped out of the bed and ran towards the door, unlocking it and throwing it open in an exhausted rage to look for the source of the supposed laugh. I then spent the next ten minutes turning on all the lights and searching every nook and cranny of the Airbnb.
I was practically making a show out of it, with how fiercely I yanked open each closet, searched under every bed, scoured every possible hiding place, and checked all possible locks on literally everything. Perhaps thankfully, I didn’t find any evidence that anyone else besides me was in the house.
Why did I feel disappointed? Was my paranoia really that bad? Did I… want to anticipate someone being here? These questions brought back the fear into me as the high from the rush began to wear off. Even if my mind made it up, it didn’t sit well with me that it happened for the second night in a row.
I retreated back to the bedroom and made sure to lock the door extra tight, even adding a makeshift barricade using the room’s chair that time. As I got back into bed and shut off the lamp, my mind began to wander with even more paranoid thoughts than before. If someone was hiding here, they could only be outside somewhere or in one of the sealed off crawl spaces, right? Those were the only places I didn’t check… But that’s very unlikely, as I surely would have heard them going to those places, judging from the closeness of the laugh.
Even more disturbingly, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was connected to Marigold’s death somehow. I refused to believe she would take her own life, and that it seemed more like a grisly murder, looking back. Couple that with her feeling similar in ways that I did in the days leading up to it, and it spells a dangerous picture. And I swear, while I was on the phone with the police after seeing her body, I felt like someone was watching me, that I wasn’t alone… Her closet was even shut, which it usually wasn't, and I didn’t check it, since I was so distraught. What if… the person who killed her followed me here somehow and was planning to do the same to me in my sleep next, as some sort of twisted game?
I shook my head and tried to calm down further, cursing myself for thinking of such ridiculously convoluted notions. That nightmare just scared me really badly and I was paranoid about the funeral tomorrow, that’s all. This helped me destress a bit and I decided I would call Mr. Abode first thing in the morning to complain about the place’s creepy atmosphere. That would make these feelings go away, hopefully.
And just like that, I fell back asleep and woke up just hours later. Sure enough, I picked up my phone and began to dial Mr. Abode’s number, not backing down from letting him know what his rental place has done to my mental health.
After five times of the number going to voicemail and me redialing, he finally picked up.
“What the fuck do ya want? Why’re callin’ me so much!?”, he greeted with an annoyed tone.
“This place you let me rent out is strange and makes me feel paranoid.”, I answered instantly, not hesitating for even a second, “I keep having these bad dreams and feel like someone else is in here with me. Is this a common complaint? It’s really getting to me…”
I heard Mr. Abode groan on the other end, clearly not wanting to listen to me when he was presumably sleeping before I disturbed him. He paused and then replied: “Now listen here… I let ya rent out that house for a reduced rate ‘cuz I felt sorry for ya ‘bout your situation. Don’t make me regret it! There’s nothin’ wrong with the place, ya hear me!? I’m gonna go back to sleep now. Laters!”
In response, I could only stammer out, “W-Wait! What have others said in the-?”, before the line hung up.
Figures, he didn’t take me seriously. I mean, I should’ve expected that from someone who calls himself Mr. Abode. Sure, it made me frustrated, but I got over it pretty quickly. I couldn't stay mad at his unprofessionalism, I had somewhere to be soon. The titular day where I had to say goodbye to my former best friend forever was finally here.
Already feeling the pain and regret, I braced myself for what’s to come and started to get dressed for the ceremony. It was depressing, being decked out in formal mourning clothing, stuff I didn’t usually wear. It made the weight and reality of what was happening truly set in at last. I didn’t even have the energy to eat anything, so I simply left the Airbnb right after that. I sure as hell preferred being in an ominous cemetery over that house’s creepy interior design.
It only took me five minutes to get there, which is why I rented that house so close by. For that very short drive, my breathing intensified and my chest tightened, the anxiety and weight of grief setting in… It was just a few moments before the funeral began when I walked over to the site where Marigold’s tombstone was located. A large black coffin was near it, along with about a dozen chairs where a handful of people were sitting. Courtney, Marigold’s parents, extended family, and other friends were also there. Less than thirty people showed up, less than I expected… I had mixed feelings about this as I took my seat and the ceremony started.
The funeral itself was nothing special, just some coroner staff and her family saying a few words as an obituary. Marigold was never a super religious person, so it was overall secular in nature, which I didn’t mind. Still, it was also fairly short, lasting less than half an hour. Her parents and even Courtney broke down in tears and sobs as the coffin was lowered into the ground. I, however, remained stoic and silent, watching it all with deep melancholic and conflicted feelings.
Somehow, I felt… responsible for all this happening. If only I checked on her sooner, or if only I had listened to her… I suppose these feelings are partially because I was the one who confirmed her death, and it still haunts me to this day, and something I’d never get over. In my darkest thoughts, I even wondered what would’ve happened if I had died, instead of her… Would things be different? Would anyone besides my two best friends miss me? Regardless of this hypothetical scenario, it wasn’t reality and what happens, happens.
Once it was all over and the attendees started to clear out, Courtney came up to me, her eyes still red from the crying. “Hey, Muse… You doing okay? That was hard to watch…”, she asked.
Not wanting to lie to her, I looked down at the ground and answered with: “I don't know, to be honest… It just… hurts so much that she’s gone…”
“Mmm… Well, I totally get you. Don’t worry, we’ll stick together and make sure we honor her memory as friends.” She suggested in a slightly lighter tone, “How about I come over and get you early in the morning tomorrow? We deserve to laugh and have some fun after all this, just like the good old days.”
I felt honored that she cared about me and my wellbeing so much, so I agreed with, “Sounds good… I look forward to it.”, trying to smile at the same time.
I then gave Courtney the address of the Airbnb, and she confirmed she would arrive at eight in the morning to take us on a fun ride through town to relive our childhood in Marigold’s name, in a sense. That made me feel better, even though it was just a small amount, having something to look forward to for once in quite a while ever since this whole mess started.
We then split off once again and I made the short drive back to the house, feeling completely neutral still. Nonetheless, the moment I sat on the living room sofa after getting inside, the mask of ice finally slipped and I began to weep. The tears just wouldn’t stop coming as I thought about all the things I’d never get to do with Marigold ever again.
Her smile is gone, her voice is gone, her beauty is gone, her honesty is gone, and her comfort is gone. Never again would I be soothed with her wise advice, never again would I laugh with her about whimsical things, never again would I tell her my worries, never again would I spend time bonding over our mutual interests, and never again would I be cuddled by her when things got difficult… She was my best friend, she was my sister, she was my soulmate, she was my guiding light, and she was my favorite person ever. She was also all of that for Courtney, too. While her warm presence is gone, her memories and the impact she had on us will remain.
I cried and grieved for literal hours, the sun going down by the time my sobbing slowed. I never audibly felt anguish on that level before in my entire life, but it felt good to let it out after it built up for far too long… I speculate actually getting through the ceremony of Marigold’s death is what finally made the grief fully hit me at last, and just couldn't hold it in any longer while being there alone. Whatever the case, I was just glad to finally feel true sorrow at that horrible tragedy and be fully human once again.
Now that a big weight had been lifted off my chest, I wiped my eyes and made the decision to once again go to bed early. All that crying and distress over the funeral wiped me out. I was too tired to be nervous about my fear over the Airbnb. Besides, I had to get up early tomorrow for Courtney and I only had one more night to spend in that damn place, then I could leave and never look back.
I skipped the doomscrolling this time, not wanting to bring my mood down even further. I ate something light, got ready, and went straight to the bedroom. It just became dark once I got comfortable, me becoming sleepy earlier than any previous evening. I braced for a nightmare to come while I slept, since they seemed to be routine at that point, even though I hoped today’s events would secretly nullify it somehow. Also, I wished for my last night there to be a safe and peaceful one, with no strange sounds to wake me up.
...
...
My eyes flew open as my body sat up straight upon awakening from that horrifying dream. I knew there must've been a reason I did so, that something was terribly wrong. I found my answer immediately when I saw that I was staring at the bedroom’s entrance. Even though I locked the door before going to sleep, it was now wide open, and the hallway’s light revealed a man’s face peering from behind the bathroom doorframe, staring at me with a twisted expression of glee.
I screamed louder than ever before, which caused the man to smile wider in reaction. Realizing the danger I was in, I practically flew out of the bed and towards the door. I slammed it shut just as he started to slink further into the hall. I locked it tight and near instantaneously put the chair against it, along with the nightstand and dresser to fortify the tacky barricade.
Thank goodness I did, since he started to bang on the door in what sounded like a playful and mocking tone moments after. I then ran back over to the bed and positioned myself to watch the door at an exact angle, so it would never be out of my sight.
The sounds subsided after a few minutes, and everything went dead silent. And for the next few hours, it just turned into a game of watching and waiting. I was grateful for my fast reflexes at least, which made me wonder what would’ve happened if I didn’t act fast enough. It was agonizing and very frightening, and I never took my eyes off the door once.
I used this period to ponder about everything that had happened in that Airbnb so far. I couldn’t believe my paranoid fears actually turned out to be true. It seemed like my hypothesis was correct, this guy had followed me there and been inside the whole time. All those weird noises weren’t just in my head. But where did he hide? I could never seem to find him before that. Then again, the crawl spaces were mysterious and the house was confusing enough to possibly avoid detection. Being out of the house a lot could’ve also been a factor.
However, this raised more unanswerable questions. Was he toying with me? If he wants to kill me, why wait this long to do it? Is driving me crazy part of his plan? How much did he exactly know about me…? What’s even worse was that I still couldn't shake the feeling he did this to Marigold too. I can’t explain it, it just made sense to me. Why would he do this? How many people did he hurt? I should never have gone there.
The most terrifying part of being trapped in that room was that I couldn’t call the police. I stupidly left my phone in my bag on the living room table. My refusal to use it and being fatigued the previous night came back to bite me. And leaving the room was out of the question, since I could see the shadow of his feet in the gap underneath the door. He was just standing there, waiting for me to come out or a good opportunity to do something. Who knows how long I would be in there for? He didn’t budge all that time, so I had no choice but to keep watching. I only hoped that he would get bored and leave that place behind, but that felt unlikely.
It was sometime in the middle of the night when I felt tired from the banality of the situation. You think you’d be too alert and afraid to be sleepy, but spending all that energy was taxing, along with my previous sleep cycle from earlier being interrupted. The bed was comfortable, also. I knew it would be a bad idea to fall asleep there, and I tried my best to fight it. Sadly, it’s a battle you can’t win easily, and my eyes got heavier. Right before everything around me drifted off, I could still see the man’s figure standing in place beyond the barricaded door.
...
...
I’m jolted awake from that surprisingly sweet dream, considering what’s been happening, to the sound of a voice yelling and screaming at something: Courtney’s voice. This caused me to jump off the bed in horror. I completely forgot she was supposed to come over there that morning, being pushed to the back of my mind as a result of the man’s presence. I looked around and saw it was daylight outside, I must’ve slept a few hours through the rest of the night. And if she was screaming, that meant she was in trouble and it almost certainly involved that stalker.
The sound came from the backyard, so I couldn’t see what was happening, due to it being on the opposite side of the property. So, I threw myself towards the barricade and swiftly dismantled it, feeling relieved it held up. He probably wasn’t outside the door, but I didn't care if he was, I wasn’t about to potentially lose another close friend to that murderer! I wouldn't let my indifference get the better of me any longer when it involved those I loved.
I threw open the door and quickly but carefully ran out into the hall, nobody was in sight. That’s when I heard a heavy duty door slamming shut outside. I somehow knew it was the shed in the backyard, seeing how it was also a blind spot to me around there. I turned and saw that the sliding glass door was wide open. He had to be out there, along with Courtney, whom I prayed was alright.
I took a moment to grab my bag off the table in the living room, my phone luckily still being in there. I didn’t have time to call the police, I had to go and help my best friend fast, and I wouldn't make the same mistake twice… In the same rushing action, I also proceeded to snatch a knife from the kitchen, just in case things got ugly. It wasn’t much, but it at least helped me mentally prepare for what’s to come.
Exiting the house and stepping into the yard, I moved around hastily yet cautiously. I snapped my head at the shed and, sure enough, its door was cracked open and the latch looked like it was broken off so whoever was in there could get inside. I heard no sounds or signs of a struggle, whatever confrontation occurred seemed to be already finished. Disbelieving that Courtney would remain silent without coming to find me for that long, I assumed the worst and prepared to confront that scary man, bracing for another potential dead body scene.
I took a breath so deep that my lungs nearly exploded, before then flinging the door open in a flash. Inside, the man was lying on the floor next to some old tools while remaining motionless, some light blood pouring out from a wound on his chest. He was dead. Courtney stood over him, breathing heavily and seeming in a daze from whatever just happened. All the fear and adrenaline rush I felt melted away upon seeing this, being replaced with overwhelming relief and joy, seeing her unharmed.
The knife slipped out of my grip and landed on the ground as I could only utter: “...C-Courtney…? What… happened?”
My audible shock seemed to pull her back to reality, where her mouth gaped in awe at seeing me. “You’re okay… Great! You didn’t answer the door, so I let myself in and saw that the one to the backyard was wide open. Thinking you were out here, I looked around for you, only to get attacked by this insane man with a knife…” she explained while gesturing to the body next to her, “He chased me, but I managed to pepper spray him. That didn’t stop him, though… He tried to strangle me, but I took his knife in all the confusion and… you can see what happened next. Then, I broke into this shed to put the body in here, just in case he isn’t dead. It should be enough to stop him if that happens.”
It was all too much for me to process at that moment. But looking back, it’s impressive she was able to stop him so swiftly. She was always physically strong and quick on her feet, in addition.
I felt overwhelmed with emotion once I took it all in, which led me to run up to Courtney, throwing my arms around her tightly. I buried my face into her shoulder as I therapeutically told her, “I’m so glad you're safe… I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t… I’m sorry all this happened… I won’t ever turn my back on you, I promise! I’ll be there to support you for the rest of our lives!”, while on the verge of tears.
She pulled me closer and rubbed my back while seeming to feel happier. “Me too, me too… Don’t apologize. Like I said before, we’ll get through this together, as best friends. I swear I’ll do my best!”, she declared.
Being past the funeral drew me and Courtney closer, and it felt good to rely on somebody again. While Marigold may be gone, the mark she left on our lives still persists. It helped me cope with her absence, saved me from being killed, and kept our friendship alive and well. It seemed things might get better eventually, after all.
...
With that, the Airbnb and all its weird interconnectivity with Marigold and my life finally came to an end. I called the police right after that, and they arrived to investigate who the man was. Apparently, he was named Jack Goldenberg, and not much was known about his life. He was, however, linked to numerous people’s deaths, making many look like accidents and suicides, including Marigold’s.
He liked to choose his victims by how they were related to the last one, acting like a web of sorts. The police suspected that Jack was responsible for the car “accident” Marigold saw and he somehow got a hold of where I lived and followed me to the Airbnb, where his car was found on the street nearby it. This led the media to brand him as “The Butterfly Effect Killer”. The idea horrified me that someone so evil hunted me for so long. My gut being right about what happened to Marigold paid off, which made me feel both relieved and sad I couldn’t stop it. Still, I was glad Jack couldn’t hurt anybody else now, his reign of terror ending in that godforsaken Airbnb.
Suffice to say, Courtney and I left that place right after the police were done, never looking back and cancelling our planned hangout day. I got my things and drove away without a second thought. I never heard from Mr. Abode again and frankly, I didn’t want to, since I had enough of Airbnbs and their sketchy owners for a lifetime. It was his problem now.
Both me and her have been doing much better since then. Courtney regularly checks up on me and we bond together, much like when we were younger. This helps me process my trauma better, feeling great about being around someone so kind and fun in my life. And I do the same for her, which she loves as well. We both remember our promise and hope we can still go strong for the foreseeable future.
I guess that grieving about Marigold being gone properly has helped in significantly reducing my paranoia and bad dreams. I sleep and feel more relaxed now, the best since before this all happened. It goes to show that everyone dies eventually, whether we like it or not. And to suppress your sadness and acknowledgment of this universal truth is to deny life and the human experience itself…
This brings me to the end of this self-reflective memoir. I feel like writing it has released something cathartic within me, a kind of therapeutic collection of memories that preserves both mine and my friends’. If there’s anything I gleaned from this whole series of events, it’s that people need others to grieve and feel the impact of death, to not forget what those who are no longer here have said, and to trust themselves in what they need to do. Keeping it in this personal journal signifies just how much of life’s aspects intersect together. That’s what all this means to me. And that Airbnbs fucking suck, end of story.
Written by Singularity Sam
Content is available under CC BY-SA