The neighbor

Charlie had always been the type to greet her neighbors with a smile, so when she moved into the quaint little house next to Alastor's, she made sure to introduce herself. Every morning, as the sun peeked over the horizon, she'd call out, "Good morning, Alastor!"

Alastor would respond with a polite smile, his sharp eyes twinkling. "Good morning, Charlie." To anyone else, he seemed like the perfect neighbor: polite, well-mannered, and always impeccably dressed.

However, every night was different. The serene calm of the day turned into a symphony of strange noises from Alastor’s house. Charlie heard shuffling, thuds, and sometimes what sounded like muffled cries. She dismissed it at first, thinking it was just the creaky old house or perhaps Alastor’s odd hobbies.

But then people started to go missing. It began with a young woman from down the street, followed by a jogger who took the same route every evening. The disappearances were subtle at first, but the neighborhood soon buzzed with whispers and rumors.

Charlie couldn’t shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong. Determined to get to the bottom of it, she enlisted the help of her friends: Angel, Husker, Niffty, and her girlfriend, Vaggie. Together, they embarked on their own investigation, questioning neighbors and piecing together the puzzle. Suspicion fell on several individuals, including the enigmatic Vox, the charming Valentino, and the quiet Velvet. But every lead they followed turned into a dead end.

Eventually, their attention returned to Alastor. He was the constant, the neighbor who seemed too perfect amidst the chaos. Charlie, driven by her gut feeling and the eerie noises she heard each night, decided to take a closer look.

One fateful evening, while Alastor was out, Charlie and Vaggie slipped into his house. The air inside was cold and still, a stark contrast to the cheerful facade Alastor presented. They carefully explored each room until they discovered a door leading to the basement. With a deep breath, they descended the creaking stairs.

The basement was a macabre scene. Dimly lit, it revealed evidence of Alastor’s gruesome activities: bloodstains, makeshift tools, and, horrifyingly, remains of his victims. The sight made Charlie's stomach churn, but she knew they needed proof to stop him.

As they gathered evidence, they heard a familiar whistling tune growing louder. Alastor was home. Panic surged through them, and they quickly found a place to hide behind some old, dusty shelves. The basement door creaked open, and Alastor’s silhouette appeared, casting long shadows across the room.

"Well, well," Alastor's voice echoed, chilling and amused. "It seems I have unexpected guests."

Charlie and Vaggie’s hearts pounded in unison as they held their breath. Alastor’s eyes scanned the basement, finally landing on their hiding spot. With a sinister smile, his eyes gleaming a deep red, he said, "You shouldn’t have come here."

Charlie, trying to muster her courage, stepped out, holding up her phone with the evidence. "We know what you’ve done, Alastor. The police will know too."

Alastor laughed, a sound devoid of humor. "And you think you can just walk out of here and tell them?"

The basement door clicked shut, the sound of the lock sealing their fate. Alastor took a step closer, his smile never wavering. "This, my dear Charlie, is just the beginning."

And with that, the night shrouded them in a new kind of darkness.