The Doomed Ones Downstairs
I don’t live that far above Hell. If I’m not careful and I actually have to make a trip below, I may come across one or two of its residents — a little grubby, maybe reeking of smoke, and quite probably yelling at the little yapping creatures they call dogs. Even though each apartment in the complex has two bedrooms or less, they always seem to have an endless supply of people downstairs. I have no idea if they’re at…