In a housing market gone to hell (literally), a cash-strapped teen has made a deal of biblical proportions: agreeing to carry and birth the Antichrist in exchange for a steep discount on rent.
“It’s impossible to find an affordable place these days,” says 19-year-old Ellie Whitmore, who signed the lease on a dingy one-bedroom apartment in a decaying high-rise. “When my landlord, Mr. Peregrine De’Ath, said I could have 60% off rent if I participated in a ‘once-in-a-millennium divine experiment,’ I figured, why not?”
Meet the Landlord From Hell
Peregrine De’Ath, a shadowy figure always dressed in a crisp suit and blood-red tie, is a known presence in the building—often seen loitering near the mailboxes, offering cryptic financial advice, and occasionally bursting into flames.
According to Ellie, Mr. De’Ath first approached her when she complained about a faulty radiator. “He said, ‘I can’t fix the heating, but I can guarantee a fire in your future,’” she recalls. “Then he slid a contract across the table and said I’d be a ‘vessel for change.’”
The contract, written in an unknown ancient language (though notarized by a suspiciously smiling woman at the local DMV), detailed the agreement:
• Rent slashed by 60%
• Additional amenities included: free Wi-Fi, a cursed amulet, and the eternal whispers of the damned in the walls
• One small favor: birthing the Antichrist on a pre-agreed date, location TBD
“I really couldn’t say no,” Ellie admits. “My other option was living with three strangers in a roach-infested basement with no natural light. At least here, the evil forces keep the Wi-Fi strong.”
The Neighbors Are… Watching
Since signing the lease, Ellie has noticed some odd behavior from her fellow tenants.
Her next-door neighbors, Clive and Mabel Thorne, have taken an unusual interest in her prenatal care. “They show up with raw eggs and whisper about ‘strengthening the dark prince,’” Ellie says. “One time, Mabel handed me a glass of warm milk and said, ‘You’ll need your strength for the birthing pyre.’”
The other tenants seem to know something’s up, too. “I keep getting knowing nods from people in the laundry room,” Ellie adds. “And last week, the guy in 4B muttered, ‘Hail the dark lord’ while waiting for the elevator.”
Concerns? Maybe Later
Despite the occasional bouts of sleep paralysis and the eerie glow from under her closet door at 3 AM, Ellie insists she’s content with her decision.
“I know some people might judge me, but it’s 2025—if I have to birth the bringer of the apocalypse to afford rent, so be it,” she shrugs. “Besides, I hear he’s an easy baby. Just needs regular blood sacrifices and never cries. Sounds better than most.”
Her only regret? “I should’ve asked for free parking.”
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