The story
The cold Bogotá dawn wrapped the streets in a thick silence, interrupted only by the distant whisper of the wind coming down from the eastern hills. Inside a residential building in the north of the city, Rodrigo was carrying out his nightly watch. The clock marked exactly two-fifteen in the morning, the hour when the world seemed to stop completely and the dark corners of the building took on a different texture, heavier and more elusive.
While he was on the ground floor, a sharp, metallic sound broke the stillness. It came from the second floor, specifically from the social lounge. Rodrigo looked up toward the stairs, frowning and with his senses on high alert. It wasn't the first time it had happened. For several nights in a row, at that exact same time slot, the social space would fill with phantom activity: the unmistakable creak of chairs being heavily dragged across the floor, sharp taps against the window glass, and hurried footsteps pacing the perimeter of the lounge without a soul being authorized to be there at that hour.
That day, the phenomenon repeated itself with greater intensity. Around two-forty in the morning, a particularly loud crash echoed upstairs, as if a stack of chairs had been shoved all at once. The watchman, feeling the obligation to do his duty, stood up, adjusted his belt, and took firm steps toward the base of the staircase. However, upon trying to take the first step, the motion sensor light in the hallway failed, plunging the steps into an almost absolute gloom.
At that moment, the atmosphere changed drastically. A gust of freezing air came down the stairwell and Rodrigo felt the unquestionable presence of someone, or something, lurking in the darkness right above, waiting in silence. There was no visible figure, but the density of the air and the closeness of an invisible energy froze his blood. Fear, raw and visceral, paralyzed his legs. He understood in a matter of seconds that his courage wouldn't be enough to face what lived there. With his heart hammering wildly against his chest, he decided to turn around and not go up to investigate.
The next day, with the sunlight and the city already moving, Rodrigo talked to the building manager to report the strange events. The man's response was damning and confirmed the guard's worst fears: a while back, in that same social lounge, a little girl had made the tragic decision to take her own life by hanging herself. Far from being an isolated case, the manager told him quite naturally that other security guards who had covered the night shift before had also heard the same wails and noises, to the point that they had already gotten used to living with the invisible presence that wandered the second floor every early morning.
