It was inevitable that this would happen. I never liked to think of it because I doubted that it would happen, but now that it had happened, it was unstoppable. Unpreventable.
A new neighbor had moved in down the street.
My road was very privatized. I'd lived on it my entire life. Mostly old people, a couple of kids who come up with their parents in summertime, and a few single people looking for some peace and quiet. And now, a young guy was moving in. A very strange-looking young guy with greasy black hair and pale skin. It was flawless and smooth, kind of alluring. His eyes were dark, compelling, and sparkled even when the lights were dim or the sun hadn't come out at all. His hands were swift, but sometimes shaky. He liked to go on walks. He'd pass by my house at least three times a day.
Despite it being the middle of springtime and relatively warm for the time of year, he always wore a black overcoat. My parents had carried over a basket of cookies and fruit and a card, but something about him didn't seem right in that moment. He wore a blood red scarf wrapped tight around his neck, and the room just inside the door was dark. All was quiet. No television playing, no fan whirring, no dog barking. I backed away and excused myself, pinning my reason for quick retreat on a sudden stomach ache.
The springtime was getting increasingly hotter, to an extent where moisture formed on your skin simply from standing beneath the sun. Sunburn spread within the hour, and not many people were out. I decided it would be a great day to take a walk to the beach, but by the time I was halfway there, I remembered.
The new neighbor.
My head rotated to the left and my eyes met the tiny, blue-sided cottage he'd moved into. The blinds inside were drawn and there was no car in the driveway. Despite the heat, I shivered, and continued to walk.
"Excuse-" I began as I bumped into someone, but my words choked out. I'd run right into him. The new neighbor. My blood ran cold in my veins and I tried to step around, but the man stepped back in my way. He didn't say a thing, and I didn't bother to wait to hear it. I skidded to the right, but his hand flung out and grabbed my shoulder. I swatted it away and shrieked, breathing heavily,
"Don't touch me, you creep!" I began to back away, but I bumped into someone else. My stomach flipped. Butterflies did not reside there any longer, they were more like scorpions.
"You'd better not mess around with my puppet. If you break him, I'll have to kill you," said a small, low voice from behind me. It was a man that stood at only a foot or so tall. He wore a top hat and sported a white moustache that curled on the ends.
"Who are you?" I asked, slightly amused by the tiny creature. He was perfectly proportioned, like a doll come to life.
"I am Macedameus. I am this foolish puppet's master."
"Why have you come here?" I demanded to know. The little man named Macedameus only laughed.
"I have come here because I despise you humans. You think you own the world because your brains are a bit larger and you stand a little taller than everyone else," he growled. His tiny knuckles were turning white against the knob of his cane. "But it isn't so. It is time for all of you to die."
"To die?" I choked. "Just because you don't like us? And how to you suppose you're going to kill off an entire world filled with humans?"
"Oh, I won't," Macedameus said, and stroked his fine moustache. "You disgusting creatures will kill yourselves when you come after my puppet. He is invincible. Nothing can harm him. Nothing can wear him down, like the incessant things that wear you humans down. It's only a matter of time now." Macedameus pressed past me and tapped on the knee of the new neighbor with his gnarled cane. The neighbor bent down, gave me a little bow, and picked Macedameus up in his hand. The two strode back toward the house that they moved into.
YOU ARE READING
Dream Journal
Разное"Dreams are the illustrations of the book your soul is writing about you." - Anonymous.
