Estimated reading time — 5 minutes
My neighbors are disappearing..
I’m not sure when this all started, but it seems that everyone in this town already knows.
I moved here just over a year ago, it’s lush with green in every direction, townsfolk greet each other on the streets, and children play on every block and street corner; it’s a perfectly stereotypical little town.
I live here with my two little girls, Violet who is 12, and Gracie, who just celebrated her 7th birthday last week.
And of course, our loyal watchdog, Pumpkin. He’s past his prime pushing 11 years of age now, sporting the undereye gray hairs, and lazy but affectionate attitude that never seems to let up.
My wife and I got divorced about two years ago, on accounts of her selling meth out of the house for almost a year, what kind of mother could put her children in such a terrible situation like that?
So when we ended up divorcing, of course I got the kids, the dog, and the house. But now we couldn’t stand to live there.
So we packed our things, loaded up the car, and drove out of that miserable town in hopes of finding a new home where my girls could grow up, surrounded by friendly faces, and beautiful views; they deserved it after all the court dates and police interviews.
When we arrived here, it was home at first sight. The girls quickly grew fond of the corner sweet shop, and the small plaza with a splash pad in front.
“What the hell, let’s give it a shot!”
Our first neighbors were Samantha Brings, and her 13 year old son, Malcom Brings.
She was divorced like I was, and we got along very well.
She was middle aged, and had a very attractive but motherly face with a few incoming wrinkles, but barely visible.
She was quick to make a joke and always insisted we call her, Sammy.
“Only the best get to call me that, so please, ware it out! ”
She’d say to us with a chuckle in her voice.
Her son Malcom was not as outgoing and upfront cheery as she was, he was timid and shy, but mostly only with me, he got along with my girls very well.
They’d often walk to school together and back, laughing and smiling all the way.
They lived there for five years before we moved in.. and we only knew them for three months.
I woke up to the sound of three dozen feet or so, walking in and out of her house, not trying very hard to be quiet even though it was 2:40 in the morning.
They told me, and not a word more.
They gutted that house of any furniture, clothing, or vehicle in under an hour.
I tried to get someone to explain what had happened, but it was fruitless.
I stood outside her house a good twenty minutes after everyone had vacated the property, just thinking.
The thinking eventually gave me a headache, so I gave up for the night, and trugged my way back home, and into my bed.
And after that night, no one spoke a word, or even a whisper of Sammi and Malcom.
Our next pair of neighbors moved in about a month and half after Sammi disappeared.
They were a darling elderly couple, Gyda, and Alvin. They’ve been together for over sixty years, and still going strong.
They had moved here from Denmark, Gyda said that she had lived there since birth, and Alvin was, as he called it..
“The luckiest Tourist!”
I looked at them as my long lost grandparents; they were kind, giving, and great listeners. However, they were quite opinionated, they had something to say about most controversial topics.
They were the type of old folk to give you a call whenever they’d hear a noise that was, “suspiciously too loud”.
But I never really minded, in my eyes they were perfect, and only looking out for my family’s well-being.
I woke up to the blaring ambulance sirens speading down our quiet and cozy street.
“Past in their sleep.”
A man among the three dozen told me.
They were here again, almost as if they’d gotten here right as it happened.
How can that many gather at a single location so fast?
It was beyond unnerving.
It was downright unsettling.
I knew that perfect elderly couple for seven months.
By far the hardest to cope with.
Now, we come to my most recent set of neighbors, Casey and Donna.
They were the proud parents of five children, and when I say proud, I mean PROUD.
They would go on and on at dinner parties about how proud they are of their kids, and what amazing accomplishments their kids have done.
We didn’t get along much, too show-offy for me.
Not to mention, very competitive people, not just about their kids either, they had to outdo everyone and be at the top.
Their kids were even worse, you wouldn’t catch me dead talking bad of children, but these kids.. They are an exception.
They’re youngest girl, Audrey, has been caught talking sour of my oldest, Violet, at school.
That was the last straw for me, the straw that broke the camels back.
I marched my way down our porch steps, past the fence separating us, right through their lawn and bashed on the door.
They weren’t too happy about that, and yelled at me for almost five minutes before I had a chance to utter a word.
When they paused, I told them fast and sternly about their child’s behavior, and what she had been up to at school.
They weren’t taking any of it.
They flipped the script, and made me look like the bad guy.
I had had enough. I closed their own door in their stuck up faces, and marched my way back home.
From the absolute anger I felt that day, I fell asleep surprisingly quickly.
I woke up peacefully.
The first glimmering rays of sun were just beginning to make their journey across the cliffs and through my window, the house was as quiet as it was the first night we were here, everything was still and peaceful.
I stood out of bed, stretched my toes, and lazily stumbled my way over to the window to gaze at the bright morning.
Not a thing.
They were gone.
After one long month.. They disappeared.
I wasn’t surprised, nor confused, or fearful.
I was scarily calm, and continued about my day as normal.
I already knew what had happened, I’ve seen it before.
Something befell the family, the on cue three dozen townsfolk arrived and gutted the house, leaving nothing behind, not even a crumb.
Not even a crumb.
I sat at my breakfast table and thought.
I thought of my neighbors, their kids, their pets.
What really was going on?
This isn’t just one house it’s happening to, it’s every house around us.
All is gone.. Except us.
I am fearful.
I speak not to the kids of my fears, of the noises I have heard creeping through the very walls, of my ungodly nightmares that have woken me only to view another missing family.
The only reason I dare write any of this down, is because I want this to be known.
I want us to be known.
It’s 8:00 pm, and my daughters haven’t come home from school..
I fear the worst.
CREDIT : BatsyCatsy
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