Neighbors

By Aaron Abilene

A young couple buys a house, but they immediately start to notice strange things happening. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Syphon Creative
• Release date: May 13, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224324958

Book preview

Neighbors

Aaron Abilene

Published by Syphon Creative, 2024.

This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

NEIGHBORS

First edition. May 13, 2024.

Copyright © 2024 Aaron Abilene.

ISBN: 979-8224324958

Written by Aaron Abilene.

Also by Aaron Abilene

505

505

505: Resurrection

Balls

Dead Awake

Before The Dead Awake (Coming Soon)

Carnival Game

Full Moon Howl

Donovan

Shades of Z

Deadeye

Deadeye & Friends

Cowboys Vs Aliens

Ferris

Life in Prescott (Coming Soon)

Afterlife in Love (Coming Soon)

Island

Paradise Island

The Lost Island

The Lost Island 2

The Lost Island 3

The Island 2

Pandemic

Pandemic (Coming Soon)

Prototype

Prototype

The Compound

Slacker

Slacker 2

Slacker: Dead Man Walkin'

Texas

Devil Child of Texas

A Vampire in Texas

The Author

Breaking Wind

Yellow Snow

Dragon Snatch

Golden Showers

Nether Region

Thomas

Quarantine

Contagion

Eradication

Isolation

Immune

Pathogen

Bloodline

Decontaminated (Coming Soon)

TPD

Trailer Park Diaries

Trailer Park Diaries 2

Trailer Park Diaries 3

Virus

Raising Hell

Zombie Bride

Zombie Bride

Zombie Bride 2

Zombie Bride 3

Standalone

The Victims of Pinocchio

A Christmas Nightmare

Pain

Fat Jesus

A Zombie's Revenge

The Headhunter

Crash

Tranq

The Island

Dog

The Quiet Man

Joe Superhero

Feral

Good Guys

Romeo and Juliet and Zombies

The Gamer

Becoming Alpha

Dead West

Small Town Blues

Shades of Z: Redux

The Gift of Death

Killer Claus

Skarred

Home Sweet Home

Alligator Allan

10 Days

Army of The Dumbest Dead

Kid

The Cult of Stupid

9 Time Felon

Slater

Bad Review: Hannah Dies

Me Again

Maurice and Me

The Family Business

Lightning Rider : Better Days

Lazy Boyz

The Sheep

Wild

The Flood

Extinction

Good Intentions

Dark Magic

Sparkles The Vampire Clown

From The Future, Stuck in The Past

Rescue

Knock Knock

Creep

Honest John

Urbex

She's Psycho

Unfinished

Neighbors

Misery, Nevada

Vicious Cycle (Coming Soon)

Romeo and Juliet: True Love Conquers All (Coming Soon)

Hunting Sarah (Coming Soon)

Random Acts of Stupidity (Coming Soon)

Born Killer (Coming Soon)

The Abducted (Coming Soon)

Broken Man (Coming Soon)

Graham Hiney (Coming Soon)

Paper Soldiers (Coming Soon)

Zartan (Coming Soon)

The Firsts in Life (Coming Soon)

Giant Baby (Coming Soon)

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

Also By Aaron Abilene

Neighbors

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Also By Aaron Abilene

Neighbors

Written by Aaron Abilene

Emily's hands trembled slightly with a cocktail of nerves and excitement as she reached for another box in the back of the moving truck. The mid-morning sun cast a warm glow on her face, highlighting the freckles that danced across her nose—a feature Jake had fallen for from the moment they met. As he hoisted a heavy box labeled 'Books' onto his shoulder with a grunt, he shot her an infectious grin that mirrored her own enthusiasm.

Can you believe it, Em? Jake's voice buzzed with energy, his eyes scanning the quaint front yard before them. Our very own place.

Every time I think about it, I get butterflies, she admitted, her voice bubbling with joy as she stepped down from the truck with a smaller carton cradled in her arms. It's like we're starting our own little adventure.

Together, they made their way to the front door, the threshold of their future. The house was a charming two-story abode, the kind with a wraparound porch that whispered secrets of lazy Sunday mornings and cozy evenings spent under the stars. Emily pushed the door open, the hinges offering a faint creak as if greeting new friends.

The rooms were bathed in soft light, filtered through gauzy curtains that fluttered at the touch of a gentle breeze. They wandered through the living room, taking note of the fireplace that promised warmth on winter nights. Emily traced her fingers along the mantel, already picturing framed photos of their families, and perhaps, someday, little ones of their own.

Look at this kitchen, Jake exclaimed, his admiration echoing off the tiled backsplash and polished countertops. You'll finally have the space to try all those recipes you've been bookmarking.

And you can have your little herb garden by the window! Emily chimed in, her mind racing with images of Jake tenderly caring for basil and thyme, his strong hands surprisingly delicate when tending to plants.

They ascended the staircase, each step creaking under their weight as though whispering tales of the house's storied past. Upstairs, the master bedroom awaited, a canvas of white walls and hardwood floors eager for their personal touch. Emily spun around the center of the room, her arms outstretched.

Imagine waking up to the sunlight pouring in through those windows, she sighed dreamily, picturing their bed positioned just so to catch the first rays of dawn.

Or staying in bed during a thunderstorm, just listening to the rain, Jake added, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind, both of them swaying gently to the rhythm of imagined droplets pattering against the panes.

Perfect, they whispered almost in unison, the word hanging between them, laden with promise.

In every corner of the house, in every whisper of possibility, Emily and Jake saw not just walls and floors but the setting of their life story, the backdrop against which they would build their dreams. Their shared vision of the future—a tapestry woven from love, ambition, and the comfort of having found their place in the world—seemed to breathe life into the very foundations of the home. This was the beginning, their beginning, and the air hummed with potential.

A gentle tap on the open front door drew Emily's attention away from an unpacked box of dishes. She looked up to see a short, silver-haired woman with a complexion like crinkled tissue paper and eyes twinkling with mirth. The woman's hands were carefully balanced around a plate covered in a checkered cloth.

Goodness, I didn't mean to startle you, Mrs. Thompson said, her voice as warm as the oven from which she must have pulled the cookies now wafting their delicious scent through the doorway. I'm Agnes Thompson. I live just across the street. She lifted the cloth to reveal a dozen golden-brown cookies, each one thick with chocolate chips that still held the sheen of recent baking. Welcome to the neighborhood!

Emily's face lit up with a grateful smile. She wiped her hands on her jeans and took the plate. Thank you so much! I'm Emily, and this is Jake. She motioned to where Jake was hefting another box through the threshold.

Nice to meet you, Mrs. Thompson, Jake said, setting down the box with care before extending his hand. His grasp was strong but measured, respectful of the age-worn skin that met his own.

Please, call me Agnes, Mrs. Thompson insisted, her hand lingering in Jake's for a moment longer than necessary—a silent acknowledgment of the strength and vitality of youth.

Their exchange was interrupted by the sound of a bouncing ball followed by the laughter of children. Turning towards the noise, Emily saw the Martins emerging from the house next door. A boy and girl, freckles dotting their noses and cheeks, chased after a runaway basketball, while behind them trailed their parents.

Hey there! called out Mr. Martin, a robust man with a beaming smile and hair just beginning to recede. His arm was wrapped comfortably around his wife's shoulders, who waved at Emily and Jake with her free hand. Looks like we've got new neighbors! I'm Dan, and this is my wife, Laura.

Welcome to the block! Laura added, her voice carrying the soft lilt of a southern accent, possibly Georgia or Tennessee. She had a kind face, the sort that seemed perpetually ready to break into a smile, and eyes that sparkled with genuine friendliness.

Thank you, Emily replied. We're just getting settled in.

Need any help? Dan offered, already taking a step forward, his posture suggesting he was no stranger to neighborly gestures.

Or company? We make a mean lemonade, Laura chimed in, her tone light and inviting.

Maybe once we get these boxes inside, Jake said with a chuckle, feeling a sense of relief wash over him. Good neighbors could make all the difference, and the Martins, with their open faces and easygoing charm, seemed like they'd fit that bill nicely.

Take your time, Agnes said, her voice a soft undercurrent beneath the boisterous welcome of the Martins. We're all here when you need us.

The afternoon sun dipped lower in the sky, shadows stretching across the lawn as Emily and Jake exchanged pleasantries with their new acquaintances. It was a picturesque scene, the kind that belonged on postcards, where every home welcomed you with cookies and smiles. This was more than a new house; it was the promise of community, the warmth of belonging, and the hopeful beginnings of new friendships.

Which one of you is the gardener? Dan inquired, leaning against the white picket fence that marked the boundary between their properties. His hands were tucked into the pockets of his khaki shorts, a casual stance that matched the friendly twinkle in his eyes.

Guilty as charged, Emily confessed, wiping a strand of matted hair from her forehead with the back of her hand. I've got big plans for these flowerbeds.

Laura's laughter was light and melodic as she glanced toward the unkempt borders around the house. We'll have to swap tips then. I'm always fighting with the hydrangeas next door.

Sounds perfect, Emily beamed. The idea of sharing gardening secrets over cups of coffee filled her with a sense of camaraderie already.

Agnes, do you garden too? Jake asked, turning to include Mrs. Thompson in the conversation.

Only a little, the elderly woman replied, her voice soft but clear. But I do love seeing the neighborhood in bloom. It brings such life to the place.

The small talk continued, weaving connections with every shared interest and local recommendation. They discussed the best nearby diners, upcoming community events, and the quaint library that apparently still held storytime sessions on Saturdays.

As they chatted, Emily's gaze inadvertently drifted past the Martins' well-kept home to the property that lay beyond - a stark contrast to the manicured lawns and cheerful facades surrounding it. The house sat further back from the road, shrouded by overgrown bushes and skeletal trees that clawed at its sides. Its windows were like hollow eyes, darkened with age and neglect, while the front porch sagged wearily, burdened by the weight of untold stories. The paint, once a vibrant color perhaps, now flaked away in large, cancerous patches. Even in the waning daylight, it exuded an aura of desolation, as if the joy from its neighboring homes could not penetrate its gloomy threshold.

Ah, the old Harrow place, Mrs. Thompson murmured, following Emily's gaze. Her smile faltered for just a moment, a shadow crossing her features before the warmth returned. It's been empty for some time now.

Looks like it's seen better days, Jake commented, his voice unconsciously lowered, as if he didn't want to disturb the eerie quiet that seemed to emanate from the dilapidated structure.

Every street has one, Dan added with a shrug, though he didn't turn to look at the house himself. But hey, more room for your garden, right?

Right, Emily forced a laugh, though the image of the lonely house lingered in her mind, an unexpected chill brushing her heart despite the lingering summer heat. She turned her attention back to the friendly faces before her, pushing aside the unease. This was a fresh start, after all, and there was no room for ominous thoughts on such a promising day.

Jake's hand found Emily's, a wordless exchange passing between them as their eyes remained fixed on the dilapidated house. The laughter and chatter from the Martins' children seemed to fade into the background, creating a stark contrast against the silent sentinel that loomed behind their own cheery new abode.

Curious about the Harrow place? Mrs. Thompson's voice cut through their reverie, her tone light but not without a hint of caution.

Does it... belong to anyone? Emily asked, trying to sound casual, her thumb brushing over Jake's knuckles in a small gesture of comfort.

Been vacant for years, Mr. Martin chimed in, his hands resting on his hips as he rocked back on his heels. No one's been interested, what with all the work it’d need.

Ghost stories tend to keep buyers away, Mrs. Thompson added, though her laugh was tinged with nervousness. But don't you mind it. We've never had any trouble. It's just an old house that's seen its share of neglect.

Jake nodded, attempting to mirror their nonchalance. An interesting piece of history then. Adds character to the neighborhood, right?

Exactly! Mrs. Thompson beamed, relieved at his response. It’s all part of the local charm.

Emily smiled, finding solace in their reassurances, and turned her attention back to the vibrant life around her. The sense of unease ebbed away, replaced by the warm welcome of their new neighbors. With a final, lingering glance at the Harrow house, she allowed herself to be drawn back into the friendly banter, the mysterious presence of the abandoned home momentarily forgotten.

Emily's heart swelled as she stepped across the threshold of what was now their home. The hardwood floors gleamed under the afternoon sun that streamed through the open windows, casting playful shadows on the walls. She could already picture where their furniture would go, how the rooms would fill with laughter and life. It was a fresh canvas for their dreams, a vessel for their shared future.

Look at this space, Jake! she exclaimed, twirling in the center of the living room, her arms outstretched. Can you imagine Christmas here? Or summer barbecues in the backyard?

Jake caught her by the waist, pulling her close, his eyes brimming with shared enthusiasm. I can see it all, he whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead. This is our new beginning, Em. Our sanctuary.

Their gazes met, locking in a moment of profound connection. Everything they had worked for, every challenge they had overcome, it had led them to this point—to a place they could truly call their own.

Hey, watch this! Jake suddenly said, his voice echoing slightly in the empty space. With a few long strides, he reached the far corner of the room and shouted, I love you, Emily Carson!

His declaration bounced off the walls, a ghostly chorus that filled the room with its intensity. Emily laughed, her cheeks flushed with happiness. And I love you, Jacob Turner!

Their laughter mingled, erasing any last traces of doubt about their decision to move. This house, with its quirks and creaks, felt like a prelude to the life they were eager to start together.

As they turned back to the front door, Mrs. Thompson and the Martins were approaching, the former holding a plate stacked with cookies that smelled like heaven itself.

Thank you so much, Mrs. Thompson, Emily said, accepting the offering with a warmth in her smile. That's incredibly kind of you.

And thank you both for being so welcoming, Jake added, addressing the Martins who stood by with friendly grins. We're really looking forward to getting to know everyone.

Absolutely, Emily chimed in. And we'll be sure to have you all over once we're settled in. It's the least we can do after such a warm welcome.

Consider it an IOU for neighborly kindness, Jake said, his tone light but sincere.

Looking forward to it, Mr. Martin replied with a nod. Just let us know if you need anything.

Will do, Jake assured them.

Welcome to the neighborhood, Mrs. Thompson said, her eyes twinkling. You're going to love it here.

The couple exchanged another glance, one filled with gratitude and burgeoning friendship. They were home—not just within these four walls, but as part of the community that had embraced them from the very start.

Cardboard boxes with hastily written labels in black marker lay scattered across the living room floor. Emily and Jake, their sleeves rolled up, worked in harmonious synchrony to the melody of their shared future, each filled with a vigor only newfound homeownership could inspire. Emily's laugh echoed through the bare walls as she unearthed a framed photo from the bubble wrap, a snapshot of them at the beach, the day Jake had proposed. She set it on the mantel, a beacon of their past lighting the way for their memories to come.

Perfect spot, Jake said, catching her gaze and holding it for a moment too long, the kind of pause that was a testament to their love—a silent promise of forever in a look.

Feels like we're building something incredible here, doesn't it? Emily mused, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, leaving a smudge of dust on her forehead. Jake reached out and wiped it away with a thumb, his touch gentle but sure.

Every box we unpack, every picture we hang—it's like we're piecing together our dream, piece by piece, he replied, his voice laced with the thrill of anticipation.

Together, they stepped back, surveying their progress. The room was slowly transforming from an empty shell into a cozy nest adorned with the tapestry of their shared existence. A couch here, a bookshelf there—each object a declaration of their journey from two separate lives to one unified story.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm orange glow through the windows, Emily's eyes were drawn to the silhouette of the house at the rear of their garden. The structure loomed, a stark contrast to the welcoming brightness of their own home. Its windows were like hollowed-out eyes, and the overgrown garden tangled like unkempt hair around its stoic face. For a moment, the joyous ambiance within their walls seemed to dim, chilled by the shadow of the forsaken abode.

Jake, Emily murmured, a sliver of unease sharpening her voice, that house... it's a bit spooky, isn't it?

He followed her gaze, his arm instinctively tightening around her shoulders. It's just been empty for a while, that's all. Places without laughter or life always seem a bit off.

True, Emily conceded, trying to shrug off the sudden chill that had nothing to do with the evening air. I'm sure once we get our backyard looking nice, it'll seem less... foreboding.

Exactly. And hey, it means no neighbors peering over the fence when we have our first barbecue, Jake said with a reassuring grin, attempting to dispel the ripple of disquiet with a dose of his characteristic optimism.

They returned to the sanctuary of their domestic endeavors, the presence of the eerie house momentarily pushed aside as they focused on their blossoming reality. But as the night crept in, wrapping their new world in shadows, the image of that solitary, neglected house lingered in the periphery of Emily's vision, whispering of secrets and stories untold—its darkness standing in stark defiance to their bright beginning, hinting at the unseen threads of horror soon to weave themselves into the fabric of their lives.

Sunlight streamed through the open windows, casting a warm glow over the hardwood floors of the quaint living room. Emily and Jake wove between a sea of cardboard boxes, their hands deftly unpacking treasures and trinkets that would turn this empty space into their shared future.

Can you imagine Christmas in here? Jake's voice was thick with anticipation as he pulled strands of twinkling lights from a box labeled 'Holiday Deco'. We could get a big tree, set it right there by the fireplace.

Emily laughed, her heart swelling at the thought. And I can finally host Thanksgiving dinner, she mused, picturing the house filled with the aromas of roasted turkey and baked pies.

As they continued to unpack, Emily reached for a shelf high above the cozy reading nook they'd envisioned. Her fingers danced over a small ceramic owl, its glossy surface cool to the touch. She paused, the smile fading from her lips. The owl, which she distinctly remembered placing at the far end of the shelf, now perched eerily close to the edge, as if it had somehow shuffled its way across.

She furrowed her brow, an involuntary shiver cascading down her spine. It was a trivial thing, really, but the certainty of her memory clung to her like a persistent cobweb. With a quick glance at Jake, who was blissfully humming along with a tune on the radio, she bit back her concern.

Everything alright? Jake caught her expression as he turned, a string of lights draped over his shoulder like a festive scarf.

Uh, yeah, just thinking about where to put everything, Emily replied, her voice light, betraying none of the unease that knotted her stomach. She forced a smile and returned her attention to the boxes, pushing aside the odd sensation that they were not entirely alone in their new home.

Emily's fingers curled around the spine of a leather-bound photo album as she slid it onto the bookcase. The room was starting to feel homier by the minute, with each book and trinket finding its new place. Yet, as she kneeled to retrieve another box, a soft scratching sound echoed from the dimly lit hallway. It was a subtle rasp, like dry leaves skittering over wooden floorboards.

Did you hear that? she asked, head cocked towards the source of the noise.

Hear what? Jake’s voice floated from the adjoining room, muffled slightly by the cardboard fortress surrounding him.

Nothing. It's probably just... Emily trailed off, her heart ticking up a notch. She waited, her breath held in silent anticipation. But the sound had vanished as quickly as it appeared, leaving Emily questioning whether she had imagined it altogether.

Hey, Em, Jake called out, his tone buoyant and carefree. Let's take a break, huh? We should go see what the neighborhood's like before it gets dark.

Sure, she replied, her eyes still fixed on the empty hallway. The air felt heavier there, charged with an unseen current. She shook her head minutely, trying to dispel the eerie feeling crawling beneath her skin.

Great! I'll grab our coats. Jake's footsteps approached, the familiar rhythm momentarily soothing Emily's nerves.

As they stepped outside, the crisp air did little to clear the cobwebs of unease clinging to Emily's thoughts. The scratching sound, the ceramic owl, the silence that now seemed to press against her ears—it all knotted together in the pit of her stomach. She followed Jake down the front steps, forcing a smile, and began their exploration of the tree-lined streets, their future neighborhood. Still, with each step, Emily couldn't shake the sense that something within the walls of their new home remained unsettled, lying in wait for their return.

The quaint charm of the neighborhood, with its rows of pastel-colored houses adorned with white picket fences, should have been a balm to Emily's frayed nerves. She tried to focus on Jake's enthusiastic commentary about the local bakery and the small park they passed, but her mind was elsewhere, tethered to the disquiet back home.

Did you see that? Emily murmured more to herself than to Jake as she caught a fleeting shadow dart between two houses across the street. She glanced over her shoulder again, her gaze slicing through the fading daylight, searching for a sign of movement—anything to validate her feelings.

Jake laughed, squeezing her hand. See what? A squirrel planning a heist on the bird feeder?

Never mind, she said, attempting to mirror his light-hearted tone, but her laugh sounded hollow even to her own ears. She felt exposed under an invisible gaze, one that seemed to track her every step.

They continued their walk, the laughter of playing children and the hum of distant lawnmowers filling the air. Yet, the sensation of eyes boring into her persisted, as if someone—or something—was displeased with their presence, resenting the intrusion.

Let's head back, Emily suggested sooner than they had planned, unable to tolerate the weight of unseen scrutiny any longer.

Already? Jake's brows knit together in mild surprise. I thought you wanted to check out the community center.

Another time, she said, her voice firmer than she felt.

As they approached their new house, its windows reflecting the orange hues of the sunset, Emily's heart lodged in her throat. The place didn't seem as welcoming as it had that morning; it loomed ominously against the twilight sky.

Stepping inside,