Turn on The Light

Turn on The Light

A Story by Faria C

When Renelle Anderson goes out to her friend's birthday party, a shocking and gruesome surprise awaits her on her return. Something...off.


There was a teenage girl named Renelle Anderson, who lived in an apartment with her gothic friend who she’d known for years. One day, Renelle received an invitation to another one of her friends’ birthday party.

On the evening of the party, at 6:00 pm, Renelle was running late for the party, rushing to finish up on her makeup. She was supposed to arrive early at the party, because she’d promised to do her friend’s makeup for her birthday party.

Renelle’s gothic room-mate was playing a spooky violin song on her Walkman, which was starting to give Renelle a depressing head ache. So she grabbed her purse, which was sitting on top of her desk next to the door, and headed out. The party was near her apartment, so Renelle decided to go on foot, although she had to sprint. She wanted to get there early enough to do her friend’s makeup in peace.

            After the first few steps, Renelle realized that in her hurry, she’d forgotten to bring the birthday present that had been right beside her purse on the desk. So she ran back to apartment number thirteen. When she put her key into the keyhole, Renelle found that the door was unlocked. Renelle registered then that in her rush, she’d also forgotten to lock the door before leaving. She pushed open the door, and discovered that, creepy violin music was still playing in the room.

            But it wasn’t the same music that had been playing just before Renelle had left the first time that day. It was amped up to a higher volume than the first, and also had a soft moaning in the track, like one of those creepy Satanist-worshiper tapes that she’d heard about. She was getting goosebumps all over her arms, and a freezing wintry chill at the back of her neck, as if something was…off.

            Without turning on the light, Renelle fumbled around on her desk for the gift bag, since her other hand was full with her purse that kept sliding down her shoulder. In the next moment, she’d retrieved the gift, and was once again sprinting down the stairs.

            After the party, at around midnight, Renelle returned and found a crowd of people from her apartment standing around, surrounding the apartment building. She also spotted police officers among them, trying to keep the rest at bay. The red and blue lights from their vehicles highlighted the frantic worries of her fellow apartment residents.

            When Renelle Anderson introduced herself and inquired about what was going on, an officer replied, “No need to worry, miss. We had to evacuate a part of the building, and conduct a lock down for the rest of it. There’s been a murder in that section, and we were worried the murderer might still be inside. But we now know that they left a little while ago. But we’re putting police tape around the crime scene area so no one messes up any clues by accident.”

            Renelle asked about where the murder had taken place, and the officer answered with, “Apartment number thirteen, Miss.”

            With permission from the officer, and an agreement for required supervision, the girl raced up the stairs, and into her apartment before the elderly officer could have a chance to catch up. This time, she did flick on the light. Something had been off when she'd come back tor retrieve the gift for her friend's party. And it wasn't just the light.

            What she saw inside made her stop cold in her tracks. The corpse of her room-mate was seated limply in the chair beside the desk. In her gothic friend’s hand was the Walkman that was still playing the violin tune, but the pained moaning had stopped. Suddenly, Renelle discovered that the moaning hadn’t really been part of any CD in her dead friend’s Walkman, it had been her friend’s own moaning. The other hand clutched a bloody knife, and near the bone-white thumb, Renelle spotted a piece of notepad paper.

            She plucked it out, knowing that it was impossible that her close friend had done this to herself, so it couldn’t be a suicide note. The had-been-white paper leaked with crimson fluid. It read: “Aren’t you glad you didn’t turn on the light?”

Warning/Possible Origin:  Adults are always telling kids to “turn off the lights,” and “don’t waste electricity,” and other similar things. I made this story to warn people to “always lock the door before leaving the house.” In my story, the protagonist, Renelle Anderson, unknowingly saves her own life by not turning on the light when she comes back to get the gift for her friend’s party. At the same time, she endangers her gothic friend’s life by not locking the door before leaving for the party.

Fact:  The story that I made up doesn’t have much possibility of being true or similar to a true story, because in most apartment buildings, there are security guards. Although it could have been someone that the victim was familiar with, a stranger can’t just walk into an apartment building without being detected/

Hope that wasn't too…off 

© 2017 Faria C

Author's Note

Faria C
*NOTE: This is an urban legend I made up for grade-nine English Urban Myth unit (and got 100%, whoo hoo!) Also, it's very cliche with the number 13 and gothic Satanist-worship music and all, and yes I am indeed aware of this. It was kind of intentional =p

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Added on January 11, 2013
Last Updated on March 6, 2017
Tags: short story, realistic, thriller, light, urban legend, short, finished


Faria C
Faria C

Wouldn't you like to know , Canada

When someone asks me to tell them about myself, I panic and have a little identity crisis where I wonder, "Oh God, who am I?!" Bruh, don't do that to me. Well, I'm Faria (which rhymes with "area").. more..