It started with the for-sale sign disappearing from the house next door. For months, the house stood empty. So, when moving trucks appeared early one morning, you couldn’t help but feel a spark of curiosity.
The movers were quick, and utterly silent, hauling heavy crates and antique furniture into the house with military precision. By the time you ventured outside to catch a glimpse of the new occupant, they were gone, leaving behind an air of mystery.
That evening, you decided to pay a visit. A welcome to the neighborhood gesture, you reasoned, and a chance to satisfy your curiosity. You’d heard whispers from other neighbors, stories about the buyer being a reclusive older woman who’d paid for the house in cash.
Walking up the creaky steps to the front door, you couldn’t help but notice the peculiar decor. Ornate carvings lined the porch railings, and fresh, blood-red roses spilled from freshly planted pots. The house smelled faintly of lavender and something earthy, like damp soil.
You rang the doorbell. The sound was deep and melodic, echoing inside the house. After a moment, the door creaked open.
She stood tall and poised, dressed in a flowing black dress adorned with silver embroidery. Her hair, silver streaked with black, fell in waves over her shoulders, and her eyes, piercing and dark, seemed to hold secrets far older than the house itself.
“You must be my neighbor,” she said, her voice smooth and inviting, like velvet brushed against your skin. “I’ve been expecting you.”
You stammered out a greeting, offering the basket of cookies you’d brought. She waved it away with a graceful hand, inviting you inside instead.
The interior was just as extravagant as the woman herself. Velvet drapes, gold-accented furniture, and glimmering chandeliers.
“I’m Lydia,” she said, gesturing for you to sit in a high-backed chair. “It’s such a pleasure to finally meet you. I’ve always wanted to live somewhere like this… where neighbors still drop by unannounced.”
She poured tea into two cups. As you sipped, you couldn’t help but feel her gaze linger on you. It wasn’t hostile, but it was… assessing, as though she were appraising more than just your appearance.
“You see,” Lydia continued, setting her cup down with a soft clink, “I’ve never had children of my own. A fact I’ve often lamented. But I think that’s about to change.”
The words hung in the air, heavy and perplexing. You blinked, unsure of how to respond.
“I—uh, that’s… nice?” you said, laughing nervously. “Are you planning to adopt or something?”
Her lips curved into a knowing smile, and for a moment, it felt as though the air in the room thickened, pressing against your skin. “Something like that,” she said cryptically.
The way she said it sent a chill down your spine, though you couldn’t quite explain why. You glanced at the ornate grandfather clock in the corner, noting how late it was.
“Well, I should probably get going,” you said, standing hastily. “It was great meeting you, Lydia.”
“Oh, the pleasure was mine,” she said, rising to escort you to the door. “I’m certain we’ll be seeing much more of each other.”
As you stepped outside, the cool night air prickled your skin, and you couldn’t shake the sensation that you’d just walked out of a spider’s web.
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