I can’t really say that it all started out as sunshine and rainbows. When my girlfriend and I had first discussed moving into our place, which seemed unheard of for people our age, we were ecstatic.
It was a modest house, or rather a duplex, sat atop a hill overlooking a river. The view on its own was worth the 600 dollar rent, though the house itself wasn’t too bad in its own right.
The downstairs portion of the duplex had been rented out a couple months prior by an older couple, though the landlord told us that they had yet to pay a single months rent and would be moving out within the week.
That week alone made me question why we signed the year lease in the first place.
They fought horribly, endlessly. Wretched words spilled out in incoherent babbles which shook the house with startling ferocity. Those few days we spent hovering over them, laying witness to the abuse which the man we’d come to know as ‘James’ would put his wife through, were the longest days of my life. Anxiety ran high.
It eventually came to a head when his wife Samantha, a dainty, frail thing, decided to kick him out. Now I’ve heard my fair share of verbal altercations, whether it was my parents growing up or my siblings, however the night Samantha left the door locked on James was an entirely different beast. I had never heard such heinous, evil things uttered by another human being in my entire life. The war raged on for what seemed like eternity, even as the dim sunlight of the evening hours eventually gave way to complete darkness, it continued. Eventually, around 3 or 4 in the morning, that’s when James decided the best course of action was to bust out the window and try to force his way in. The cops didn’t take long to show up and give James an escort back to the county jail.
Looking back now, I wish they had never left.
I’m sure that sounds completely insane after everything you’ve just read. I can’t help but feel a tinge of disbelief at my own words, truthfully. However, the real nightmare wouldn’t begin until the following week, when that green Mustang pulled up in the neighboring parking spot.
I hadn’t even heard the landlord give them a tour, which was odd considering he was a large, burly man with a voice to match.
The night Tabatha moved in was like any other night had been for the previous week. The shackles of our overbearing neighbors had been lifted and we had begun growing used to the freedom which that had granted. There was no longer an edge of anxiety with each creaky step, worried that they’d turn there abuse onto us. There was no longer a mute button on our little slice of ‘paradise’, and the freedom which seemed promised to those who eventually secede from there parents house was ours.
We had become so lost in the joy and sounds which we were now free to make that we’d barely noticed the headlights of an approaching car pour in through the living room window. Unusual, to say the least. As I said, we lived atop a steep hill whose entrance was shrouded by the neighboring auto repair shop and bar which sat on either side of it. I wasn’t particularly worried at first, figuring they had gotten lost and just needed a place to pull in and turn around.
A few minutes passed, a few agonizing moments, before I realized there headlights were off, having never left the lot. I looked out from the window, trying my best to locate the car through the inky black of night. No luck.
I sat back down on the couch and tried my best to keep my composure in front of my girlfriend, though I was certain she could see right through my facade.
“Is everything okay, babe? You look like you just saw Sasquatch or something”, she giggled, rubbing my arm.
A heavy creak emanated from below us, permeating through the thin floors and rolling over the house like a harsh bout of thunder. The door to our neighbors house opened, slowly, and closed with such ferocity that it made us both jump in unison. My girlfriend looked over at me, probably hoping for some sort of reassurance, though I was just as scared as her. I could feel my skin clam up and my heart begin to race.
“Do you think that’s our new neighbor”, Lacey finally spoke up, shattering the eternal silence. I pondered her question for a moment, unsure of how to respond.
“I don’t know, I don’t know why they’d be moving in in the middle of the night”, I replied, attempting to mask my fear with annoyance, with anger.
We sat in silence, in the all consuming quiet for a while like that. Just Lacey and I, holding each other on the cheap couch we had bought from a thrift store.
“I just really hope they’re better than our last neighbors”, Lacey whispered. Those were the last words that would be spoken that night before we eventually succumbed to the sleep inducing quietness.
The following days were nerve wrecking, the constant dragging of furniture and hushed voices making there way up to our apartment. Eventually, though, we had silently agreed that the new neighbors were nothing like James and Samantha. They made such little noise, stayed so deliberately subtle that it became clear that they must’ve been as apprehensive about upsetting us as we were of them.
Lacey decided that it would be best to bake them something and bring it downstairs, sort of like an ice breaker. It definitely wouldn’t hurt to actually meet them, considering we had yet to see them face to face.
So after a quick trip to the local supermarket for some cookie ingredients, we were all ready to present them to our new neighbors. Hesitantly, we went forth, climbing down the stairs and knocking on their door.
I was taken aback by the people who revealed themselves from behind the portal.
A short, portly woman stood centermost in the doorway, a large smile plastered across her weathered face. I would guess she was in her middle to late 60s, the wrinkles to prove it etched across her face. What surprised me most, however, was the tall, broad man who peered silently from behind her. I was taken aback by his looks, dark hair stood out against his olive colored skin. He looked no more than a few years older than me, a touch of adolescence still apparent in his face.
Our ‘conversation’, if you could call it that, went on and on, the woman hardly letting either of us get a word in. Though the conversation seemed to reinforce the positive sentiment we had of our new neighbors, I couldn’t help but notice a few red flags during our brief visit.
When we had first introduced ourselves, the old woman stared holes into my girlfriend, twisting that horrendous smile and mouthing what seemed to be her name, Lacey. Ordinarily that wouldn’t bother me so much, but considering the fact that we hadn’t exchanged names yet had sent a chill down my spine. I tried my best to brush it off, making different excuses… it should’ve been, it was the first sign.
I also couldn’t help but notice her eagerness to get our phone numbers, calling them both to make sure we hadn’t given her fakes. Once she was satisfied that we hadn’t pulled one over her, she reached out and caressed my cheek, which soon turned into a harsh pinch.
“Good… good, it’s better that you don’t lie”, she screwed her face up into another wrinkle riddled smile before continuing on her tangent.
Maybe she’s just lonely.
The next week came and went without incident. Another week of bliss. The sleep seemed to be deeper than ever, I could hardly manage four hours a night before the move, but now I was getting almost twelve everyday. I didn’t mind waking up at noon everyday though, considering I worked a night job as a cook, it didn’t affect me terribly.
It wasn’t until the following few days that things seemed to become hazy. I felt slow, sluggish during the few hours I could manage keeping my eyes open. Various items throughout the house seemed to go missing, vanishing into thin air. Other things would end up in completely random spots, such as my phone charger nestling itself between the Oreos and ramen in the pantry.
I didn’t think too much of it. Considering that I was shuffling around in a comatose state couldn’t rule me out as the prime suspect of these odd occurrences. Despite this, I kept my eyes peeled.
My rediscovered anxiety kept me firmly planted between the living world and the dreamscape as I crawled into bed that night. The near-entire pot of coffee I had consumed throughout my shift made me at least somewhat alert, which proved fruitful in my suspicions.
As the night wore on, the morning sun was keen on shattering the horizon, a few soft strands of light began to creep out over the river as I gazed upon it. It was as these delicate rays of light began creeping through the living room window that I noticed them. A pair of eyes, watching me, studying everything around me. For a moment our eyes met, and then they vanished.
I jumped up from the couch, my heart fit to burst. Perhaps it was sheer curiosity which pulled me forth, pulled me outside and down the steps to investigate. I would never consider myself a brave person, though I felt like one in that moment.
“Whoever the fuck is out here, you better leave us the hell alone!”, I yelled out into the sky, at the trees, to nobody in particular. No answer, obviously.
As I scaled the stairs back up to our apartment, I couldn’t help but stop and turn. I studied the deck which wrapped around the duplex, sitting below our living room window. I stood there, befuddled for a moment longer.
How could somehow have been looking through the window up there?
I scratched my chin and massaged my aching temples which pounded furiously. I kept a wary eye on my surroundings as I walked back up to our door, quickly shutting it behind me. I was surprised to find my girlfriend up and rummaging through the fridge.
“You’re up early”, I said, trying my best to act casual. Her brow furrowed as she turned to look at me.
“Yeah, well…”, she paused, her eyes darting back and forth as though she was trying her best to think up some sort of lie. She sighed, a deep, cleansing breath.
“It just felt like someone was watching me”, she whispered, her own words seemed to scare her. I couldn’t help but feel the goose nipples begin to materialize over my forearms, a chill accompanying them.
“It’s funny you-“, a sharp creak which emanated from our bedroom sliced through the air, cutting me off. Lacey and I both turned with dizzying quickness.
It was hard to make out any distinct detail in the darkness which shrouded our bedroom. The darkness was so deep, so absolute, that even the most night-adjusted eyes would have a hard time navigating it.
Another creak shattered the silence, then a second one and a third before devolving into dozens of pitter-patters. For a moment, it stopped. I could feel the heat of my blood rushing in my ears as a cacophony of echoes shouted from my heart. I felt as though I could faint.
A thick, wet slap emerged from just beyond the doorway leading to the bedroom. Then another. I rushed over to Lacey, who was paralyzed in fear, and began pulling her back towards the living room.
I pulled harder, trying my damndest to reel her back in from whatever shock-induced state she was in. For a moment, just a moment, I fixed my gaze back onto the doorway. The darkness had softened a bit, as though a sort of invisible light was casting itself up from the floor.
Tabatha stood there, that wretched smile still cemented across her face. It was as though the shadows from the light seemed to exacerbate the deep wrinkles which fanned out across her now-apparent naked body. She stood still, just smiling and watching. We stood still, shock now seeping into my blood.
“Aren’t you guys going to say ‘Hello’?”, her voice slithered out with such a deep husk that it was difficult to understand. I looked down and noticed the pair of severed feet which laid comically upright before the bloody stumps that supported her gelatinous frame.
I turned to my girlfriend and yelped, a plea more than anything else.
“We need to go, we need to go!”, my voice died in my throat as I turned to run. Behind us now stood the young man which we’d met alongside Tabatha. The heavy pipe he gripped in one hand raised up high in the air, nearly touching the ceiling.
Then it all went black.
I’m not really sure what made me feel the need to write all of this out for a bunch of strangers on the internet. I woke up this morning, my skin cold and clammy to the touch, a mission on my mind. Funny, isn’t it?
I suppose, in summation, I just feel so lucky to have Tabatha as a neighbor. I think we’d all benefit from having a great neighbor like her!
Maybe one day, not so far from this one, you’ll be lucky enough to have one just like her.