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The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/Icy-Anteater-1491 on 2024-10-16 22:04:54+00:00.

I moved into my new apartment two months ago. It’s a small place, cheap, with thin walls. But for someone living alone for the first time, it was perfect. My neighbor, apartment 304, was quiet. A dream neighbor. I never saw them, never heard a party, not even a TV through the wall. Until the alarm clock started.

It was 5:57 AM on a Thursday when it first went off. That annoying, shrill beep-beep-beep that digs into your brain like an ice pick. It went off for ten minutes straight. I figured my neighbor had overslept. Happens to everyone, right? No big deal.

Friday, same thing. 5:57 AM. The alarm clock blared again, this time for fifteen minutes. Annoying, but still, maybe they had a heavy sleep schedule or something. I let it go. But when Saturday rolled around and that alarm went off again at the same time, I started getting irritated. I mean, I work late shifts. Sleep is sacred to me. Why the hell couldn’t they turn it off faster?

I knocked on their door later that day. No answer. I figured they were out and decided I’d try again another time. Sunday morning, 5:57 AM, the alarm rings. It goes for almost twenty minutes this time. I pounded on the wall between our apartments in frustration. Nothing. No movement, no “sorry,” no sound other than the relentless alarm.

On Monday, after the same damn thing happened again, I told the landlord about it. He shrugged it off. Said the guy in 304 was “weird” but always paid his rent on time. No complaints. “Maybe he sleeps through it,” the landlord said, as if that was a valid excuse. I pushed him to give 304 a call, just to make sure everything was alright. He promised he would.

Tuesday morning. 5:57 AM. The alarm screamed through the wall. I gave up trying to sleep through it and dragged myself out of bed. As I made coffee, I heard the landlord knocking on 304’s door. A loud, impatient knock.

No answer.

I watched through the peephole as he knocked again, then muttered to himself and pulled out his key. When he opened the door, I saw his face change—like something stung him. He stood there for a moment, frozen. Then he stepped inside.

I waited for him to come back out, but he didn’t. A minute passed. Then two. I thought about going over there, but something told me not to. I went back to bed, hoping to God that maybe this would finally be the day the alarm stopped for good.

Wednesday. 5:57 AM.

The alarm went off again.

This time, I was done. I threw on my hoodie and went straight to the landlord’s office. It was locked, but I could see the lights were on inside. I banged on the door until he opened it. His eyes were bloodshot, and his shirt was wrinkled like he’d slept in it.

“Hey, what’s going on with 304?” I demanded. “Did you talk to him? That alarm—”

“He’s not… there anymore,” the landlord muttered, rubbing his eyes like he was trying to wipe something from his memory.

“What do you mean? You went in yesterday.”

He looked away, fidgeting with the keys in his hand. “There’s no one in 304. Hasn’t been for months.”

I felt a chill crawl down my spine. “That’s impossible. Someone’s been in there. I hear the alarm every morning.”

The landlord shook his head slowly, almost like he didn’t believe his own words. “The last tenant died in that apartment. About six months ago. I forgot to cancel the lease. That’s why it’s still empty.”

I stood there, stunned, as he turned and shuffled back inside, mumbling something about needing sleep. I stumbled back to my apartment in a daze, trying to process what I’d just heard. I wanted to believe he was mistaken. I had to be hearing things.

But the alarm. I still hear it. Every morning. 5:57 AM. For ten minutes, without fail.

I tried everything—earplugs, noise machines, sleeping on the couch. Nothing works. I’ve even recorded it just to prove I’m not losing my mind. Every time I play it back, though, it’s dead silent. No alarm. No sound at all.

It’s 5:56 AM right now. I’m sitting here, waiting for it to go off again. Because this time, I’m going into 304 myself.

If you don’t hear from me again, check apartment 304. And if the alarm is still ringing…

Don’t open the door.