Engineering Manager | Trail Runner | Stockholm, Sweden

Conspiracy Theory

On the corner of the next block from my apartment there is a big white house. Big by Japanese standards, I suspect it’s about the same size as our home in Hungary. It also has a decent enough garden. Given the positioning and the size I’d suspect the whole building worths quite a lot.

But there is something weird going on in there.

For one, there is never any life to be seen. The windows are never open, the shutters are always closed, the shaders rolled down. On one corner of the house there is a panorama window which is permanently covered by a thick curtain. I can only imagine how dark it must be inside.

Aligning with the slight slope of the hillside the house is surrounded by a mostly chest-high stone wall. Above which there is a thick though well-kept hedge. A few times I have seen a crew of gardeners working on the bushes and twigging the trees. But there is never anyone among the people of the house to be seen.

I pass this house at least two times a day, often more. It is right on the way to the grocery store, the train station and the university. However, during my two years of living here it was only twice I caught a glance at the suspected inhabitants.

Once I saw a middle aged woman talking to some people in a car. She was standing in the gate leading to the back door, slightly ajar. She was Caucasian. Another time I was doing my evening shopping when I noticed another foreigner: a balding, borderline heavyset man. He was speaking English on the phone. To my great surprise he ended up entering the eerily silent house.

The mailbox next to the gate reads “Albaker”.

Lately when I pass the corner at night I sometimes wonder when a vampire would gracefully jump down on me and drag me noiselessly into the ghost house.