I live in the suburbs on a block where everyone knows each other and they’re all friendly. Every morning when I drive to work I see kids waiting for the bus. In the afternoon when I come home I wave dads out washing the cars, teenagers mowing, you know the usual stuff you’d see on a suburban street.
Last week I noticed a lack of activity from my neighbors 2 doors down. They have three kids and someone is always outside doing something. Not seeing any of them in the yard felt wrong. I’ve lived here for 2 years and I can’t remember more than a handful of good weather days that someone from that family wasn’t outside.
I chalked it up to happenstance. Maybe they were busy or took a day trip. ‘It could happen,’ I told the suspicious voice in my head. After the third day of not seeing a soul, my voice was telling me something was wrong.
I decided to go over and see if there was anything out of the ordinary. As I walked down the sidewalk I saw the usual signs of life, toys in the yard, a bike leaning against a porch, everything seemed normal.
And then I noticed it. The lawnmower was sitting in the middle of the half-mowed yard. It was stopped right in the middle of a row. As if whoever was mowing had something more important come up. I stared at the mower as if it would give me the answer to what had happened. It didn’t.
I slowly approached the porch of the partially mowed house.
I hesitated for a moment before gathering the courage to knock. My knuckles on the door seemed to be unnaturally loud. It was then I realized that there were no animal sounds either. I know for a fact that this family had a pet dog. And yet my approach and even my knock had not garnered a single bark.
The hair on the back of my neck stood at attention as I knocked again.
There was no answer.
I leaned over and peeked in the window.
The inside was messy like a normal house with kids should be, but there was no sign of a struggle. More importantly, there were no people. I angled myself to see into the dining room. There were plates on the table with half-eaten food on them. My paranoia meter went red line. I wanted to know what was happening. I needed to know if everyone was ok. But I didn’t want to cross the line between concern and breaking and entering.
I’d let fate decide. If I tried the door and it was locked, I’d walk away.
I reached for the doorknob like it was a snake about to bite me. I grasped it, closed my eyes, and turned.
The door opened.
I wasn’t sure if that made me happy or terrified. I stepped inside, pushing the door open slowly.
“Hello?” I called.
No one answered back. I crept to the kitchen and saw the half-eaten plates of food with flies buzzing around them and the chairs pushed back like everyone had just excused themselves and left the table.
“Where the hell did they go?” I whispered.
I continued through the kitchen into the living room. The TV was off and the room looked lived-in but empty. Pillows were strewn about the couch and floor, but once again, no sign of a struggle. If anyone took them, it seemed like they did it without a fight. It made me wonder if one of the family members was being held hostage at gunpoint and the others didn’t struggle to keep them safe.
I peered out the window to the backyard but saw nothing out of place. I turned toward the stairs and made a quick decision. Upstairs or basement? Since the basement was the last place I wanted to go in my own house, I chose the upstairs.
“I’m coming upstairs to check and see if everything’s ok,” I announced loudly. “Please don’t shoot me or anything. I’m a neighbor. I noticed you guys haven’t been out in a couple of days and wanted to make sure everything’s good.”
Every word I said as I climbed the stairs seemed totally reasonable. It was also zero comfort to me when I was in someone else’s house. I knew I was putting myself in danger. Even if it was innocent, I could easily be made to look like the aggressor.
I reached the top step and turned toward the bedrooms. I started down the hallway listening for any sound. The only thing I heard was my own footsteps. They seemed unnaturally loud in the absence of normal household noise.
I opened the first door I came to, unsure of the horrors I would find. The door opened to a princess’ delight. The entire room was pink and there was a huge castle in the corner filled with princess dolls. What I didn’t see was any occupant. This continued for the next 2 rooms. One was obviously a teenage boy’s room and the other the master bedroom. Nothing strange reared its ugly head.
The further I went the more my anxiety grew.
By the time I had made the rounds upstairs the last door was the bathroom. Visions of finding the bathtub full of blood ala ‘Psycho’ filled my head as I slowly opened the door.
The room was immaculate. At this point, I wanted to find them and ask their secret to getting their shower tile so clean.
Having searched the upstairs I faced the horrible prospect of going into the basement. I went back downstairs and paused at the top of the basement stairs. I had that horrible feeling of vertigo. Like in the movies when they do that zoom out while moving forward thing.
I flicked on the light, took a deep cleansing breath while I found my courage, then grabbed the handrail and descended. It was actually a very nicely finished basement with a big screen TV hanging on the wall, a sectional couch, and a bar in the corner.
I was about to turn and head back upstairs when I saw it.
There was a sneaker sitting straight up peeking out from around the edge of the couch. I slowly approached, as my mind flashed images of a body laying on a carpet full of blood. I turned the corner and found something immensely more terrifying.
The sneaker was on a teenage kid. I had seen him mowing the yard before. He was laying on his back still as stone. There was no blood anywhere around him but he wasn’t moving and his eyes were wide open. Laying on the floor with him were four other bodies. His family. They were each laying straight out their heads touching. It was like they formed a human star.
I leaned down and felt the teenager for a pulse but there was none. I moved to the next body and felt for a pulse. The little girl, maybe 8 years old, also had no pulse and eyes wide open staring at the ceiling, or should I say through the ceiling. She also had no visible wound and no blood near her. As I went around, each of the five people laying in the star-shaped circle had no vital signs but no visible signs of injury and eyes wide open. It was the creepiest thing. As if each of them could just get up and resume their day like nothing had happened.
I decided it was time to call the professionals. I pulled out my phone and called 911.
They said they would dispatch an EMT and police and I should stay where I was. I resisted the strong urge to get the hell out of there. Nine minutes later I wish I had. I was being interrogated by everyone with a uniform. I can’t remember how many times I retold the same story. I guess they were trying to catch me in a lie.
Once their curiosity was satisfied it was time to satisfy mine. I asked the EMT what was the cause of death and they seemed as stumped as I was.
Eventually, they let me go but the cops told me to be available for more questioning. Translation: we’re not 100% sure you didn’t do it so don’t run away in case we have to arrest you.
I walked home and tried to get some rest, but those wide-open dead eyes haunted me.
I picked up a paper the next day on my way to work. I was surprised when there was no mention of the family I’d found. Maybe they didn’t want to print anything until they were sure.
That evening when I drove home I couldn’t keep my eyes off the house as I drove by. There was no activity just the same as yesterday. I didn’t want to but my arms seemed to act on their own. I pulled over and parked in front of the house next to the one from yesterday.
There was a police car in front of the house and yellow tape up all through the yard. I approached the car and the cop got out.
“You’re the guy from yesterday that reported the incident?”
“Yeah.”
“What are you doing back here?”
“I haven’t my other neighbors out today either. Did anyone check on them?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Do you want to go check?”
He looked at the house and hesitated.
“I’m supposed to be watching this one.”
“Why?”
“I can’t really say.”
“They’re still not sure what caused the deaths, are they?”
“I can’t say.”
“Ok, I’ll tell you what. I’m going over to the neighbor’s house and making sure they’re ok. You can follow along or you can sit here.”
“You forgot the other option.”
“What’s that?”
“I could arrest you for breaking and entering.”
I thought about it for a moment.
“You could, but that would mean you’d have to leave your car.”
With that, I turned and headed to the neighbor’s house. When I reached the porch I looked back and saw the officer staring at me grim-faced and slowly shaking his head. I knocked on the door and got no response. I turned the knob and the door opened. I was about to step inside when a hand grabbed my shoulder.
I felt like I jumped ten feet in the air.
“Don’t do that!” I hissed at him.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” the cop said.
“I’m checking on my neighbors.”
“You can’t. It’s breaking and entering.”
“No, it’s only entering.”
“Stop!”
I rounded on him.
“Did anyone check to see if they were ok?”
“Well … no.”
“Has anyone seen them during all the comings and goings?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Ok then, I’m going to check on my neighbors.”
I turned back to the house and knocked on the door. After several more knocks, there had been no answer. I reached for the knob and turned it. The door was unlocked and opened. I stepped inside and looked around.
“Hello?” I called. “Is anyone here?”
Silence answered back. I strained my ears listening for anything that might indicate someone was home. All I could hear was the ticking of a large grandfather clock that stood in the main hallway.
“Maybe they went to the store,” a voice said in my ear.
I freaked out, nearly having a heart attack, and did a comic little dance turning around and finding the cop standing there.
“Stop doing that!” I said trying to get my heart out of my throat.
“Doing what?”
“Sneaking up on me.”
“I wasn’t sneaking.”
I took some deep breaths and got my heart rate back close to normal before proceeding. I headed toward the kitchen, having a good idea of what I’d find, but hoping I wouldn’t. When I got there, sure enough, there was half-eaten food on the table. It looked like they had suddenly got up in the middle of a meal.
“Just like the others,” I said.
“The neighbors?”
“They left right in the middle of a meal too.”
“Why?”
“No idea.”
I turned and saw the basement door looming large in front of me. I had the sinking suspicion that I wouldn’t find anyone upstairs so I went straight for the basement.
The cop grabbed my arm.
“Don’t you want to check upstairs?” he said.
“I have a feeling if anyone’s in this house, they’re down here,” I said reaching for the basement door.
He released my arm and rested his hand on his gun as I opened the door. I descended the stairs glancing at the jars of homemade jam on the shelves lining the stairwell. This basement wasn’t finished. It was an uncovered concrete floor with more shelves full and canned fruits and vegetables. It didn’t take much searching to find the older couple laying in the middle of the floor, face-up, with their heads together and eyes wide open.
“Oh my God,” the cop said as the color drained from his face.
I just sighed in resignation. I hated having these assumptions come true.
He leaned down and checked their pulse but I knew there wouldn’t be one.
He got on the radio and called in the discovery, all the while taking the credit for it.
I left the house after being interviewed and walked home.
As I stepped onto my porch, I looked over at the flashing lights of the emergency vehicles and it struck me.
The first victims were two doors down, these second victims were next door. Am I next?
I chill ran through me even though it was eighty degrees out. I decided to take a vacation. I called my boss and told him I needed a little time away. He complained about the suddenness of the request but approved me for a week off.
I packed a suitcase with no specific destination in mind. Just a few extra sets of clothes and threw in a swimsuit at the last moment. I didn’t really care where I went, I just knew I had to get out of the house.
I called the post office and had my mail stopped, then grabbed my suitcase and headed downstairs.
I realized I hadn’t eaten anything since this morning so I grabbed a bowl of cereal and stood at the counter eating it.
As I chewed a sudden feeling came over me. It was a feeling of peace but at the same time one of longing. As if I wasn’t where I was supposed to be. My mind went blank as I dropped the cereal bowl and turned toward the basement door. I started walking toward it, knowing I had no choice. This was just what I needed to do. There was no question. I opened the door and started down the stairs, closing it behind me.
As I descended, a feeling of belonging permeated me. I walked to the center of the room and lay down on the floor. I stared at the ceiling, unable to move. The feeling of peace waned and was replaced with dread. My eyes grew wide with the realization of what had happened to the neighbors.
I tried with everything within me to struggle, to roll over, to do anything. But I couldn’t. There was nothing I could do but lay there. My mind reeled. I could feel invisible hands holding me down.
I felt a rushing like water was pouring through me and heard a roar like an incredible wind. I knew my soul was being sucked out of my body. I heard a sinister chuckle as I futilely fought against the inevitable. The smell of sulfur assaulted my nose. I was falling, clinging at the air, trying everything I could to save myself.
There was nothing I could do. I was completely helpless.
And then I felt other hands grabbing me and pulling me up. The chuckle and the rushing ceased. I could feel the air around me charged with anger. There was a mighty struggle and then a pop. I felt weightless like I was a cork that had been shot out of a champagne bottle.
I landed on the floor with a painful thud. I opened my eyes to see the cop who threatened to arrest me just a few hours ago kneeling beside me, breathing hard.
I looked up at him.
“What the hell just happened?” I said.
“I came over to ask you a few questions and found you down here laying on the floor, convulsing.”
“How did you… ?”
“I panicked,” he said. “I didn’t know what else to do so I started saying hail mary’s.”
“I’m glad you did.”
“I think we should get out of here.”
“Am I still a suspect?” I said sarcastically.
“You’re welcome,” he said struggling to his feet.
I followed suit. Feeling like I was walking through quicksand and being dragged back to the floor. I fought off the feeling, ran out of that house, and never looked back.
I’m posting this as a warning. If you ever feel like you’re being dragged against your will by an invisible force, start saying hail mary’s. It might be your only hope to escape.