When you decide to buy a house—old or new—you never think about whether the walls are thin or thick, if the furniture is dangerous or meant to do harm, or if the floor might make crashing sounds at night.
And, by definition, people stay away from weird houses, too many historic houses, or… haunted houses.
You believe it’s just a house.
One that, of course, you bought, spending a river of money or saving your whole life to get your dream house… or apartment.You might have, so far, lived in crappy, creepy, nasty, or small places.
Maybe you’ve shared a place once or twice with an old lady as your landlord—all to save for a better home with the person you love the most.
You forget—or think—that scary houses exist only in fiction, pop culture, and nothing else.
You might laugh if you hear a weird noise at night and go back to sleep. You might do it all, but never underestimate the power of old and "self-absorbed" furniture.
THE TOWER’S TALE BEGINS
Frank Ross is just a newcomer to the city—more like a city—since he lives in an old village in the middle of nowhere.
Trying to find his own place in the world, he was absorbed by powers he couldn't fully understand. Loving horror fiction, he collected all kinds of stuff he could find around the world. And finally, he found the perfect job to sustain his avid taste.
He graduated in Journalism from the Instituto Politécnico de Lisboa. He wrote a thesis about spooky stories and their myths, The Origins of the Myth Behind the Terror.
It was not brilliant, but he gained some fans of his work, and small journals published his articles online on his website:
www.mythbehindthespookie.com.
He graduated at 27 and soon got a job offer to work as a spooky story collector in the cities of Sofia and Bucharest.
He is an American-Portuguese, now 34, living in Sofia for over eight years, and has collected tons of weird stories and myths about the Balkans.
He is thinking about buying an apartment soon with some of the money he has saved. His financial status was never an issue for him, but he wanted to be independent of his parents, so he worked hard to earn his own savings.
His articles made the magazine Spooky Myths skyrocket—not only by telling the tales but also by conducting intense background checks on every inch of the places.
Every drop of blood and tears, every word spoken, and every detail of the emotions felt in the ecstasy of the moment.
The pleasure felt by the protagonist and the pain of the victims.
And, of course, the aftermath. Cold cases brought mystery to life, turning into gasps from the readers—the truly strong-stomached ones.
— "Oh, the dark in them is strong within. The depths of the human brain are darker than a dark room," he says.
Frank had the chance to camp or sleep in the spots where weird and macabre tales took place—within some walls, dark rooms, red rooms—and got to their depths from the inside.
He, himself, became darker and aware of strange and twisted thoughts. Something deep in his nature woke up. Some just wish that deep and hidden dark nature never awakens; others simply welcome it, grasp it, and let it come to see the light of day.
He believes that magic is just magic—it is neither good nor evil, but rather what we seek within our depths.
Seeking occultism as a small escape, he came across the darkest tales of all time around the cities.
And the darker the cold cases became, the more he wanted to uncover their secrets. And there was one case he had been researching for over two years.
Strange disappearances were becoming more noticeable, and a peculiar building owner was strangely reluctant to take down his precious hundred-year-old water tower. With an oddly appealing rent price and a landlord of your dreams—until the very end.
It was once a water tank but became his home.
After communism, some water towers were demolished or converted into residential spaces due to skyrocketing rental prices and the real estate industry’s demands.
Mr. Yardonov, in this case, refused to let go of his precious childhood place. It was always special to him.
The walls of the tower had been converted into shelves and drawers to store different things.
His parents, in their will, made him keep a promise:
"To our precious and only dearest son,
This tower has placed a heavy burden on us to ensure its survival over the other water towers that were destroyed.
Its price to keep its magic forever still requires human and heavy sacrifice to satisfy its selfishness and dark deeds. The Tower is alive, and the walls can eat you alive if you don’t do your part of the bargain.
Within these walls are the remains of the first owners, then the next, and the next. And with them, more than five hundred human remains—and counting. When we die, let us be the last price we pay, because the Tower has promised to bring us honor by placing two more shelves on top.
But our deaths are not the last part of the deal. The Tower needs to be fed with new supplies.
The rats are no meat for Him. Serve Him well, and He will be your keeper. Offend Him or betray Him, and you will be turned into a stone in the ground—to be stepped upon.
Stay pure and stay safe.
With love,
Vasco and Tanya Yardonova"
Frank got access to the letter and found himself immersed in the handwritten page, bearing both signatures of the previous owners—now long swallowed by the tower. No fabric or matter is wasted.
When he finally stood before the tower itself, a shiver ran down his spine—and that’s not always a good sign.
He dared to touch the outer walls while waiting for the keeper to open the door for him. The young man was equipped with filming and camping gear, though all of it was heavy.
The keeper finally arrived and handed him the keys. But no instructions were given. Frank was excited, but the smile of the man—with his crooked teeth—gave him chills.
Slowly, the keeper walked away and then disappeared into thin air.
Frank was confused and doubtful.
— Shall I enter? Well… who cares, right?
— I care! — said a loud voice.
— Who spoke? — he asked, shaking to his bones.
— Fear? Oh, I love it! Come now, child. Don’t be silly or shy. Come in. Welcome home.
Scene fades out while the Water Tower's monster sings a scary lullaby.
A dog barks afar
While the bell
Rings near
Traces of a woman
Yelling in terror
On a floor squeaking
And cracking
While a man
Heavy in his heart
And soulless
Speaks the incantation
That her end is near
And the destiny Strikes like a spear.
FORGOTTEN DETAILS:
The same monster that haunts and lives in the water tower of Sofia is the same that corrupted the primordial men to construct the Babel Tower. In the original tale, a god was to intervene because there should be a tale to explain the different languages on Earth and such was made up around that idea. This god, who intended to save humanity while there was another identity, which the monster served, stole the tale and composed it to say that he needed to create languages for different peoples, which at that time he already called his children.
So, the monster corrupted humans and inspired them to construct a tower that could reach the palace of the one who created the humankind, not the who some people worship.
When they attempted to do so, the real architect brought it down completely. But the usurper brought to himself his wrath and plotted against his counterpart.
The usurpation happened and the good architect.was placed in the void and that's his prison. As for the monster, because the wrath of the usurper was so great, he crawled into his void and ran away. Then, he went on to haunt every tower that ever existed until it would be destroyed either by decay or by human deeds.
But every time the monster grew taller, greater in his perverse game or in his audacity.
But he never lost his insatiable appetite for human flesh.
