Promise-Part One

Promise-Part One

twistedstoryteller123's picture


When we die, the memories live on, but sometimes those memories aren’t always so grand. They sometimes remind us of what we left behind in the world. Never forget what has been left behind.

Cracked, anxious fingers flip through the pages of the Louisville Herald, a local newspaper in downtown Louisville, Kentucky, yearning to find a place to call “ Home”, but with the recession, it has been hard. These were the hands of Jasmine Price, a twenty-two year old woman that has called this city home for nearly most of her life, looking for that home, whether it be rundown or very cheap- it mattered not to her. She just wanted something in her price range. Her worried baby blue eyes catch glimpse of an ad:

“ A single Apartment on 1400 South Block Rd at the Raven Hollow Apartment Complex. Rent is 200 dollars with utilities included. Decent shape with a few needed repairs to certain areas. Call 502-945-3256 and ask for Davis Princeton”..

This was perfect. She didn’t care if it needed help and the price was perfect for her lower class budget. She pulls out her cell phone and dials the number, but her excitement slowly turns to a long sigh, the phone is busy. She decides to leave a message with her name and number, just in case. She stands to her feet, grabs a few shopping bags nearby and walks down the busy street in the downtown area. She comes to a busy street glaring with noises from people on sidewalk and cars in the street, hearing her cell phone. It read the name she had called. Apparently, he was closer than she thought.

“ Hello. Yes, I called about the apartment. I’m very interested in what you have to offer!” she yells around the ambient noises, but when she waited for an answer, she had only heard eerie static. She pulls the phone from her ear and looks at it strangely. It’s probably a bad reception between the phones, the buildings seem to do that in this city.

“ Hello?! Mr. Princeton? Can you hear me?!” she says into the static, but there was no hint of a reply. She tries again, and yet again, gets the same effect. She shakes her head and hangs up the phone.

She slips into a nearby restaurant with small, four chair, tables outside under red striped umbrellas. It’s a small brick building with a large glass window advertising deals and the store’s name, “Pop’s Deli”. It’s a great sandwich restaurant that sells some of the best sandwiches in Louisville. She slips through the front glass door, shown with the store timeline, slipping into the shop by the howl cool air conditioner winds. It was a quaint little place with black and white tile floors, wooden paneling and several square tables with their red booth chairs. She approaches a small white counter displaying a glass container of various breads; next to it is a cash register, guarded by a slender girl wearing a red and white striped work shirt. She orders her typical sandwich: a ham, bologna and cheese on a six inch French roll, handing the money to the girl, who puts it in the cash register and fades back behind some chrome machinery to start her sandwich. She takes her seat near the counter and slips into one of the booths. She couldn’t help thinking about the static she heard, wondering if that was the phone? She ignores the feeling, looking around the small shop with a sense of curiosity. You could see the walls had aged pictures of vintage Louisville when a flood hit it; cars were half-way engulfed with water and buildings looked short in that glistening line. She wasn’t around when that happened, but heard something about it from her grandfather. A vibration stirs her from the daydream, and she pulls her cell phone from her pocket to see a message from Mr. Princeton’s number: “ Please kill me! I deserve to die for what I have done!” is written on the phone. She swallows hard and starts to get nervous. This man is sending her strange messages. Had this been a prank someone sent to the newspaper? No, that’s impossible, right? I mean, there has to be some sort of legal interception in there somewhere to avoid this. She dials the number again and puts the phone up to her ear. It rings several times and a deep voiced gentleman answers the phone.

“ Yes, are you the young lady who called and asked about the apartment?” he asks with a hard exhale.

“ Um, yes I am. Did you call me back or send me a message?” she interrogates curiously, wondering if this was another part of his sick joke.

“ No, I just received your message a few minutes ago. I was attending to some needs throughout the apartment complex. Why do you ask?” he says with confusion, wondering what this girl is rambling on about.

“ Um, oh, never mind. Yes, I would like to come by and check the apartment out. When is a good time for you?” she asks, her voice slightly off by what he said to her. How could that be? He had to of been the person sending the message back and leaving her on static. Something about this seem really strange.

“ Anytime is fine. Not many people want this apartment. I’m sure you’re aware of the address, so I’ll see you when you get here, Ms. Price. Goodbye,” he replies gently and hangs up the phone.

She hangs up the phone and slightly shudders at what he said. That wasn’t him sending her that message or giving her static. Well, the static could be explained, but what about the message that came from his location? She couldn’t help but to feel slightly weary when placing her phone back into her pocket, who wouldn’t feel that way? The girl behind the counter calls out to Jasmine and she shakes her head of the strange feeling, walking over to get her lunch. The eerie, strange feeling is slowly pushed aside by a more anxious, cheerful feeling. She’s finally going to get an apartment, a place she can finally call “ Home”. The dream of any independent person out on their own. She eats her lunch and then heads off to the apartment complex in lower Louisville, near the Ohio River. The apartment set along the waterfront on four stories, nestled in an incline next to an old seafood restaurant and a park with several kids and parents occupying it. It’s an old Victorian brick building with a pointed roof and windows lining each floor. It’s one of the oldest buildings in Louisville. She walks up to the a concrete stoop, consisting of three thick steps and standing in front of a wooden indention that leads into a stain glass door. A smile crosses her slender lips as she walks up the steps to the front door. This place was perfect, it held an old world charm that most would reconsider, but not her. She thought it was quaint and charming, something that she could get to eventually know to be home.

The large wooden door creaks open to a small, dimly lit hallway leading back to a staircase going up several floors. The floors were black tile with golden trim; the walls were withering white wallpaper; and near the entrance is a row of copper lockers with individual names on it. She walks over to the row of small copper lockers and slowly rubs a slender finger across them, feeling their soft, yet rough texture. Footsteps coming down the staircase lure the young woman to see a large man coming down, he wears a brown suit and holds a clipboard in his left hand; his hair is fading to a thin, slicked back brown that tries to hid his shiny bald spot, but there wasn’t any hope.

“ You must be Mr. Princeton, am I right?” she notes with a smile, walking toward the man with her hand extending to greet his larger one in a handshake.

“ She’s a beaut, isn’t she? An old Victorian place that has been around the Louisville area for nearly thirty years. Come. Let me show you your humble abode,” he says, leading the young woman up the staircase three stories with a door on each marked by ten rooms.

She’s taken to the third floor and through its wooden door to a long hallway cutting off to the left in an L-shape. She could see doors on either side, as if a military line and a drill sergeant is barking demeaning ideas. She’s shown to room 3-C in the middle of the hallway. With a jiggle of keys from a key ring, they push through the door to an open area consisting of a living room space and kitchen, both mixed into one area; breaking off from those two rooms are two more rooms, a dining room and bedroom, complete with a nearby bathroom connecting to that bedroom. The kitchen had a stove and refrigerator, but the rest had to be bought.

“ As you can see, this apartment is very spacious for one person. I don’t know about anymore than that,” he denotes with a hearty laugh, walking to the midst of what could be her living room.

She steps away from that room into the bedroom, a small space big enough for a bed, dresser and maybe a television, but that’s about it. It had a closet that you walk in with an accordion door. Next to that is a small bathroom with toilet, bathtub and sink with a square mirror. She walks into it and smiles at the mirror, daydreaming about the many baths she will take in the oval shaped tube with lion feet. She retreats to the other side of the living room to the dining room, which is about the size of the living room.

“ And the verdict is?” he calls out with a curiously smile. He walks into the dining room and holds that smile toward her.

“ I’ll take it. When can I move in?” she says with a warm smile toward this man, who hands her the clipboard.

“As soon as you like. We just have to go through some paper work before you can call this place your own”, he replies confidently, nodding at her choice that he feels was the right one. She gladly accepts those terms and starts the paperwork with this man.

Over a two week span, Jasmine finally moved into the apartment and settles into her new surroundings with the help of her mother, Rosalyn. They sit on her blue couch in the middle of her living room, enjoying a glass of wine and good times.

“ Wow! I can’t believe my baby girl is actually out on her own,” jokes Rosalyn between wine glass sips. She had shoulder length curly brown hair, blue eyes, and a full face with a button nose, high cheek bones and full lips- Jasmine being the spitting image of her, aside from a few wrinkles at her eyes and around her nose.

“ Yeah, it’s nice, mom. I love it!” adds Jasmine through a sip of her own, surveying her proud location elegantly. She couldn’t believe she actually has her own place, it’s very surreal, as if she’s visiting this place and leaving in a few hours.

“ So, how is your ex? I hear he’s giving you hell, like always,” abruptly states her mother, intentionally changing the subject.

His name is Samuel Anderson, an asshole that claims she wasn’t going anywhere and that she should grow up, even though she was the responsible one, making most of the money in their relationship. He’s been trying to get back with her after they broke up, noting his mistake and feeding her lies that she doesn’t want to here in her new life.

“ Eh, to be honest, I’m not worried about him anymore. He’s can rest in his own stew. That was a part of my life I regret”, she replies with a false smile, wondering what could of been between the two of them. At first, he started out as a nice guy, but then showed his true colors a year into the date, becoming jealous of how much more money she gets than him. He started to badmouth her and say she was nothing but an ignorant bitch, accusing her of various things.

“ Yeah, who needs guys like him. I’m sure you’ll find another man to treat you better, Jasmine,” her mother reassures with another sip from her slender wine glass.

“ Mom, can I ask you something? Something happened to me over the

Share this discussion

littleboo's picture

Very cool. Loved what I've read so far.

Add new comment

Please login or register to post in the message boards.
By submitting this form, you accept the Mollom privacy policy.