The neighbors

Moving to a new neighborhood is always a bit unsettling, but I had high hopes for Ridgewood. The house was perfect—quaint, quiet, with a beautiful garden. It was everything I had hoped for when I decided to leave the chaos of the city behind. But from the moment I arrived, something felt off about my new neighbors.

The Mitchells lived next door, in a house that was a mirror image of mine. I first saw them while unloading my moving truck. They stood on their porch, watching me with an unsettling intensity. Mr. Mitchell was tall and thin with a gaunt face and piercing blue eyes. Mrs. Mitchell looked perpetually on edge, her eyes darting around as if she expected something terrible to happen at any moment. Their daughter, Lily, was a pale girl with dark hair who seemed to glide rather than walk.

They didn't wave or smile, just stared in silence until I went inside. I brushed it off as small-town curiosity, but their behavior only got stranger.

The first night, I was woken by soft music. It was an eerie tune, like a lullaby played on an out-of-tune music box. I looked out the window and saw a faint light coming from the Mitchells' basement. Shadows moved against the walls, and I could hear muffled voices. It was too late to investigate, so I tried to go back to sleep, but the music lingered in my mind, turning my dreams into restless nightmares.

The next morning, I decided to introduce myself. I walked over and knocked on their door. It took a long time for someone to answer. Mr. Mitchell opened the door just enough to peer out, his face expressionless.

"Hello, I'm James. I just moved in next door," I said, forcing a smile. "Thought I'd come over and say hi."

He stared at me for a moment before opening the door wider. "We don't get many visitors," he said, his voice low and monotone. "Come in."

The interior of their house was dimly lit, the windows covered with heavy drapes. It was unnervingly cold, and a musty smell hung in the air. Mrs. Mitchell appeared from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel.

"This is my wife, Margaret, and our daughter, Lily," Mr. Mitchell said. Margaret nodded, a tight, forced smile on her lips. Lily stood at the bottom of the stairs, staring at me with those dark, hollow eyes.

"Nice to meet you," I said, though I felt anything but welcome. "I was just wondering if you had any recommendations for local places to eat or things to do."

Mr. Mitchell nodded slowly. "There's a diner in town. It's decent."

Margaret spoke up, her voice trembling slightly. "There's a park a few blocks away. Good place for a walk."

"Thanks, I'll check those out," I said, eager to leave. As I turned to go, I noticed a door at the end of the hallway, slightly ajar. From the gap, I saw the edge of a staircase leading down into darkness.

"That's the basement," Mr. Mitchell said, noticing my gaze. "Just storage."

I nodded and quickly made my way out, feeling their eyes on my back the entire time.

Over the next few days, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being watched. Every time I looked out the window, one of the Mitchells seemed to be there, staring at my house. At night, the eerie music from their basement continued, now accompanied by soft chanting that sent chills down my spine.

Curiosity got the better of me. I decided to take a closer look at the Mitchells' house. I waited until the music started and quietly made my way to their backyard. The basement window was open slightly, just enough to hear the strange melody and the rhythmic chanting clearly. Peering through the gap, I saw the Mitchells standing in a circle, holding hands. In the center of the circle was an old, ornate mirror, reflecting something that wasn't there.

The mirror's surface shimmered, showing distorted images of places I couldn't recognize, and faces twisted in silent screams. The chanting grew louder, and the air around me turned cold. Suddenly, Lily looked up, her dark eyes locking onto mine through the window. She smiled, a slow, eerie grin that made my blood run cold.

I stumbled back, tripping over a rock and falling hard on the ground. The chanting stopped abruptly, and I heard the basement door creak open. Panicking, I scrambled to my feet and ran back to my house, my heart pounding in my chest.

I locked the door behind me, my mind racing. What had I seen? What were they doing? I decided I couldn't stay silent. I needed answers.

I tried talking to the few other neighbors, but they all turned me away, their faces pale and fearful at the mention of the Mitchells. It was as if a veil of silence had been drawn over the entire neighborhood. With no other choice, I decided to seek answers in town.

The next day, I went to the town library to see if I could find any information on the Mitchells. The librarian, an elderly woman named Mrs. Harper, seemed to know everything about everyone in town.

"The Mitchells?" she said, raising an eyebrow. "Strange folk. Moved here about ten years ago. Keep to themselves mostly."

"Do you know anything about their basement? Or any strange rituals they might be involved in?" I asked, trying to sound casual.

Mrs. Harper's expression darkened. "There have been rumors," she said quietly, glancing around as if afraid someone might overhear. "People say they're involved in some kind of cult. Others think they're just odd, but I've heard things. Strange things."

"Like what?" I pressed.

"Disappearances," she whispered. "Animals mostly, but a few years ago, a young girl went missing. Last seen near their house. The police investigated, but nothing came of it. People are scared, but no one talks about it openly."

I left the library with a growing sense of dread. The pieces were starting to fit together, and I knew I had to be careful. That night, I kept a close watch on the Mitchells' house, determined to find out more.

Just after midnight, the music started again. I crept out of my house and approached their backyard, staying low and out of sight. The basement window was open, and I could hear the chanting, louder and more intense than before.

I peered through the window and saw the same scene as the night before, but this time, something was different. There was a figure in the mirror, a dark, shadowy form that seemed to be reaching out towards the Mitchells. They chanted faster, their voices rising in a crescendo, and the figure in the mirror grew clearer.

Suddenly, the chanting stopped, and the figure disappeared. The Mitchells stood silently for a moment before dispersing. As they moved, I saw something on the floor—a small, lifeless body, its features twisted in pain.

I gasped, and Lily looked up again, her eyes locking onto mine with that same eerie smile. She mouthed something I couldn't hear, but I understood perfectly: "You're next."

My blood ran cold. I stumbled back, trying to escape, but the back door of my house was locked. Frantically, I fumbled with the keys, glancing back to see the Mitchells stepping out of their basement, their eyes fixed on me.

I finally got the door open and slammed it shut behind me, locking it with shaking hands. I backed away, my heart racing, as the whispers began again, now coming from inside my house.

I turned and saw Lily standing in the hallway, her dark eyes gleaming in the dim light. She smiled that same twisted smile and took a step forward.

"Welcome to the neighborhood," she whispered, her voice cold and hollow.

I screamed and ran for the front door, but it was too late. The whispers grew louder, filling my mind, drowning out my thoughts. The last thing I saw was Lily's face, twisted in a triumphant grin, before everything went black.