August 23, 2015. Louisville, Kentucky.
Day 1
Mason Torres had always enjoyed the simple routines of life. Whether it was reading a book on a lazy afternoon or experimenting with new recipes in the small kitchen of his apartment, he found comfort in the mundane. As the soft scent of simmering soup filled the air, Mason flipped through the pages of a novel, letting the words transport him to a world far removed from his own.
The rhythmic sounds of chopping vegetables and the occasional sizzle of cooking provided a soothing backdrop. Mason relished these moments of solitude, cherishing the tranquility that his humble abode offered in the midst of a bustling city.
With a contented sigh, Mason set the book aside and stirred the pot of soup. The rich aroma enveloped him, promising a hearty and satisfying meal. Lost in his culinary thoughts, he didn't notice the faint shuffling outside his window.
Then, as if materializing from thin air, a shadowy figure suddenly appeared on the other side of the glass. Startled, Mason's heart leaped into his throat, and he stumbled backward, nearly knocking over the pot of soup. He blinked in disbelief, his eyes widening as he took in the sight before him.
His neighbor, Mr. Jenkins, stood just beyond the windowpane, his appearance twisted into a grotesque caricature of a human being. His skin was an unhealthy shade of pale, and his clothes were torn and stained with what looked like dried blood. But it was his eyes that sent a shiver down Mason's spine – they were dull, lifeless, devoid of any spark of recognition.
Mason's mind struggled to process what he was seeing. He had known Mr. Jenkins as a kindly, elderly man who would often exchange pleasantries in the hallway. But the creature outside his window bore no resemblance to the neighbor he had once known.
For a moment, Mason's gaze locked with Mr. Jenkins's vacant stare, and a chill crept up his spine. His rational mind battled against the surge of fear that threatened to engulf him. He took a step back, his heart pounding like a drumbeat in his chest. With trembling hands, he fumbled for his phone, his fingers struggling to dial 911.
As he held the phone to his ear, Mason watched in a mixture of horror and disbelief as Mr. Jenkins's mouth opened, emitting a guttural moan that echoed through the stillness of the room. The sound sent a jolt of terror through Mason's veins, making his grip on the phone tighten.
"911, what's your emergency?" a voice on the other end of the line inquired.
Mason's voice trembled as he tried to convey the surreal and nightmarish scene playing out before him. "I... I think something's wrong with my neighbor. He's outside my window, and he looks... he looks... not human."
The dispatcher's tone remained calm, but Mason could sense a hint of skepticism. "Sir, are you sure you're not just seeing things? Is there any immediate danger?"
Mason's eyes never left the figure outside, whose movements had become more erratic, as if it were struggling to comprehend its surroundings. "I'm telling you, something's really wrong. You need to send someone here, now!"
The dispatcher assured him that they would send an officer to investigate, but the wait felt interminable. Mason kept his eyes fixed on the window, his heart racing as he considered his options. His mind raced with thoughts of locking himself in the bathroom or even attempting to escape through the back door, but the unknown was a terrifying prospect.
Minutes that felt like hours crawled by, and Mason's nerves were stretched to their limits. Just as doubt began to creep into his mind, the distant wail of sirens pierced the air. Relief flooded over him, but it was short-lived as he saw Mr. Jenkins's twisted form lurch away from the window and disappear from view.
