He finally moved to that deluxe apartment in the sky after working all of his life to get there. He’d been on several lists, just waiting for the opportunity to arise. Months had passed before he’d gotten the call, and while the rent was a tad higher than he’d expected, that was the price to pay for luxury, and he couldn’t pass up the opportunity.

As he was in the middle of unpacking his knick knacks, he heard a knock on the door. He sat the box down and sprung to his feet, eager to meet his new neighbor. Would he be a business executive? Or would she be a twenty-something heiress? When he peered out the security hole though, nobody was there. Puzzled, he undid the security chain, opened the door, and was greeted by a pudgy, yellow-skinned woman in her late eighties who stood about four foot nine inches tall.

“Hello ma’am,” he offered, but she just kept squinting at him through her thick glasses, her eyes appearing much larger than they actually were. With those glasses and the sleeves of her sweater tied around her neck and hanging loosely against her chest, she resembled an ochre-skinned octopus. She said nothing, inspecting him up and down, and finally he could not stifle his laugh at the awkwardness of this encounter.

“I’m Kevin Ramsey,” he said, extending his hand to her, but she refused to take it. What a strange little woman?

“Is there something I can help you with?” he asked.

Several moments passed before she replied, “It’s a shame. You are a good-looking young man.”

He snickered. Crazy old lady. “What’s a shame?” he inquired.

“A shame you will die so soon.”

The conversation had suddenly become much less comical to him, and he folded his arms across his chest. “What? Why are you threatening your new neighbor, old lady?”

“Me? Oh, boy, I’m not threatening you. You must not know about this place though. Every year this apartment opens up, and every year a new tenant moves in, thinking he’s landed some wonderful prize. Then, after eight or ten months, he throws himself out the window and plunges to his death. Surely you knew about this before renting it.”

Kevin scoffed at her tale, and he hastily replied. “No, I haven’t heard this. So tell me, how many tenants have jumped to their deaths? Two? Three?” He didn’t believe her story one iota.

“Nineteen,” she replied, glaring at him through those thick glasses. “And I’m afraid you will be twenty, boy. Better live the next few months to the fullest, because that’s all you have left.”

440 words
@rastrohman

Heavenly Business

He finally moved to that deluxe apartment in the sky. When George had first entered the pearly gates, Heaven wasn’t quite what he’d expected. Oh, it was breathtakingly beautiful, with mountains and rivers and every kind of flower and animal he’d ever heard of and some he hadn’t. For the first six months, he got to live out each and every fantasy he’d ever had, no holds barred. Time passed differently there as well, for he soon discovered that a month there equaled to about an Earth year. They didn’t really worry too much about those things though. Also, he was given a pretty nice house by Earth standards, so he had nothing to complain about.

At the end of the vacation period, an Angel came and knocked on his door. Jim let him, inviting him to have a seat.

“So, what can I do for you today?”

“George, you’ve been with us for a while now. It’s time for you to pick the task you’d like to perform.”

“Oh…nobody mentioned anything about that…”

“Not a big deal really, but we all do our share. It won’t take a lot of time, but even up here we remember ‘Idle hands are the Devil’s work’.”

The Angel led George down the streets of gold to a large marble structure and they passed through an arched entryway into a room. In the center of the room was a comfortable chair, where George was asked to sit.

“After a moment, a list of tasks you’re suited for will appear before you. Simply point to the one you’d like and you’ll be shown where to go every day.”

Soon a piece of parchment appeared on George’s lap. He looked over the list and saw what he wanted immediately. He pointed, smiling, and the Angel nodded, then led him back down the streets to a white stone building near his house.

“Welcome to your new job. You’ll only be expected to be here an hour a day. Enjoy!”

With that, the Angel went on his way. George stepped behind the counter, smelling the familiar scent of cleaning chemicals, and proceeded to clean all the robes that had been turned in. It didn’t take long at all, and he felt very satisfied.

After he had been doing his job for several months, the Angel returned.

“George, you’ve been doing such a splendid job here, the Boss wants to reward you with a new place to live. Would you prefer a mansion, a villa or a deluxe apartment?”

“The apartment,” George said. “It’s what I always dreamed of on Earth.”

The Angel nodded. “Here is your new address. Enjoy your new abode.”

And that, dear friends, is how George Jefferson became dry cleaner to the Angels and finally got the ultimate deluxe apartment truly in the sky.

472 words {including title}
@Angelique_Rider

He finally moved to that deluxe apartment in the sky, after three seasons of fighting off vicious, fanged mermaids (the beach house), five seasons of defending himself against snarling, temperamental werewolves (the cottage in the woods), and almost half a season soaking himself daily in garlic to ward off vampires (the abandoned mansion in the mountains).

Sky living would bring its own challenges, of course. Though safe from the reach of the peskier creatures (crows and their indiscriminate and enthusiastic droppings rushed immediately to mind), he still had to do battle with eagles (“It’s an apartment, not an eyrie!”) and the occasional phoenix (“No, a fireplace and pyre place are QUITE different!”).

Still, on the whole the apartment proved a vast improvement over the previous residences, and he thought he might manage to be content there. Maybe even happy.

He blew a lazy puff of smoke which swirled its way sleepily across the cloud tops.

Not half bad for a modern dragon’s lair. No siree, not half bad.

168 words
@postupak

The Wetcleaner's Dream

He finally moved to that deluxe apartment in the sky. For Washington Thomas it was the ultimate validation of a lifetime of sweat, hard work and always being thought of as second best by others.

Surveying the opulent comforts of his Aerie City penthouse, he couldn't help thinking how much Isabel would have loved it here. He'd always promised her their day would come and now that it had, she wasn't there to share it with him.

A tear came to his eye as he thought of his long-suffering wife. Her life with him hadn't been an easy one and her death, because of him, had been an especially unpleasant one. She'd passed in screaming agony, the meds insufficient to grant her ease. His son, Ritchie, had left the hospital and refused to accept any contact with Washington. He couldn't fault his son for the anger that consumed him.

It had all been so needless. With over 30 years in the business he felt foolish for what had been a rookie error in judgment.

By the dawn of the 24th century, overpopulation, rampant industrialization and lax discipline regarding the disposal of hazardous and toxic substances were wreaking brutal havoc on humanity. As a licensed wetcleaner, Washington and others like him were the last hope of many.

He possessed both the knowledge and the tech required to purge their bodies of even the most virulent stains their DNA had been plagued by.

Unwilling to spend his life toiling away in one of the fancy corporate facilities, Washington had embarked on the risky path to of an independent. From a single squalid lab with barely-adequate equipment, he'd expanded his business to offer six of the brightest, cleanest, most effective freelance operations in existence.

He'd been on the cusp of finally achieving both the clinical and financial acclaim he so richly deserved when Isabel became ill. Having been subjected to the maladies of countless clients, he'd been imbued over time with a certain immunity to their effects. Fatigue and hubris had combined one especially long work day and he'd foregone the time-consuming decon process. For
his laxity, Isabel had paid the ultimate price.

He was drawn from his reverie as Milan, the maid, shot him an angry glare and a muttered imprecation on her way out. Even before the unfortunate incident, she'd always been far more fond of his wife than of him. Her loathing was now barely concealed.

Uneasy in solitude, he considered and rejected seeking out the company of his few
acquaintances in the building. His neighbor,
Astin-Marton was some sort of minor government functionary. His hedonistic and vapid lifestyle repulsed Washington. The mixed-race couple from downstairs, Sawyer Bruce and his wife, Hayes, annoyed him with their assumption they shared some bond with him they did not.

500 words. @klingorengi
Nursing a stiff drink and gazing out the window,
he wondered wistfully if the fall to earth when he
flung himself out would be anywhere near as
painful as had been his fall from grace with
everyone he'd ever cared for