Chelsea Nicholas

Welcome To the Neighborhood

Whispers of voices he felt he once knew. Whispers of voices flooding his head. Whispers of voices he can’t understand. Whispers of voices echoing with a thunderous pain. Whispers of voices screeching, burning, scratching, scraping to get out. Whispers of voices, so many voices. Eyes shut tight, fingers digging into his temples, loud painful silence hung from his sweaty lips.

“Lox, honey, are you okay? What happened?” his wife, Marcy, asked, crouching down to look at him.

Silence. The whispers stopped.

His eyes opened. He was on the grass, his wife standing over him, and next to him, the half opened brown cardboard box that he had dropped. His chest rapidly heaved in and out.

“I… I don’t know.” Lox scrunched his dark brown eyebrows not really knowing how to answer his wife’s question.

“Are you okay? Do I need to call an ambulance?”

“No, I think I’m okay.”

She pressed her hand against his forehead, and then took two fingers and dug them into his neck, feeling for a pulse.

“Well, why don’t you relax a little, you know, take a break and go sit on the couch, and I’ll just take this box inside,” Marcy said while she scooped up the thin gray slices of paper that had fallen out of the box.

“Alright, I will. Gimme a hand.”

Stretching out his arm to grab his wife’s hand to get up, Lox looked at his wrist and saw what looked like a scar; it was a jagged line about an inch wide that circled his wrist with a grayish-pink outline. He looked at his hand that was pressed against the grass, and saw the same scar on that wrist too.

“Hon, where’d I get these scars? When did this happen?” Lox asked Marcy.

“The scars on your wrists? You don’t remember? Well… Oh! I forgot I have cookies baking. I better hurry up and take this box upstairs,” Marcy said rushing into the house.

“But how--“ Lox started.

“We’ll talk about it later,” Marcy shouted from the attic.

***

By the time they finished unloading their boxes and furniture from the U-Haul truck and into their new house, the orange-red sun was already touching the earth. Lox, with his dark green loose sweats and his stained white T-shirt, was ready for his dusk jog.

“Babe, I’m about to go running, I’ll be back soon,” he yelled bending at the waist and reaching his fingers to his right foot.

“Are you sure you’re up to it?”

“Yes dear, that was hours ago, I’m fine now.”

“Alright, I’m starting dinner… see you soon… be safe…love you,” Marcy yelled as she chopped up sticks of celery. Lox turned the brass door knob and did lunges until he was out the door.

Running, his hands were in tight fists, the thumbs protected by four other fingers. His arms were bent almost at a ninety degree angle. His muscles pulsed as his arms shuffled back and forth, and his feet pounded the ground. Lox was enjoying seeing all this new scenery: freshly mowed grass, silver satellite dishes on the red roofs of every house, and small wooden fences outlining the yards.

Street lights began to turn on. Still jogging, Lox, noticed a dark street coming up on his left. His feet stopped, he stared into its gloom. The tall lights were dim, making it hard for Lox to see. He couldn’t tell, but it looked as if the street was a dead end. The houses all seemed empty and broken shards of glass lay still on the gray pavement next to the overgrown weeds. The once beautiful vibrant paint was now peeling and rotting off the walls. Vines crept up the sides of the houses. Cracks filled the street, almost like a pathway of their own. The branches of the trees were cold and bare, making them stark against the dark blue sky. There was no movement, no noise; everything seemed unnaturally still.

Suddenly the night was not so silent. Tortured screams ripped through the thin air and slammed into his ears. He doubled over in scorching pain, his face scrunched up, his hands squeezing his ears tightly to stop the screams. Terror and chaos tore sharply through his body. Just at the point where he felt he would be split open, the sharp screams came to a sudden stop. Lox lay in front of the street, his body too numb to move, huffing, wheezing, cold drops of sweat rolled down his forehead, past his ears, and fell onto the hard cement. My body is aching. What the hell is happening to me? I have to get up. I have to get away from this street. Using all his might, he turned over, his stomach squashing against the ground. He began to slowly raise his body up. Struggling, he finally got in an upright position. He took one last glance at the street, and then ran home as quickly as he could.

He threw open the door, slammed it shut, and pressed his hot sweaty back against the cold wood. He was breathing hard. Okay Lox, calm down. Calm down. Breathe. You didn’t hear anything. Nothing. You probably just pushed yourself too hard running. It was probably just your imagination. It was probably just the houses creaking. You’re just not used to this area. You were just freaking yourself out. Yeah, that’s it.

            “Dear, I’m home. I’m going to go and take a shower okay? Is dinner almost ready? I’m starving,” Lox asked.

            “Oh! You’re home! How was your run? Some of our neighbors came over to welcome us, so I decided to invite them all over for dinner tonight. They’ll be here in an hour or so. Go get ready,” Marcy shouted.

            “Good, good. Okay, I’ll get ready.”

***

There was a knock on the door.

“I’ll get it,” Lox shouted from upstairs.

            Walking slowly to the door, he wrapped his fingers around the knob twisting it, and pulled it toward him. As he looked at their faces, an odd feeling swept over him. They looked so familiar. 

            “Oh, hello! I’m Lox, nice to meet you. Glad you could come.”

            “Hi! We’re Anthony and Betty. Here, we brought you a little house warming gift!” She handed him a gray gift basket with a red bow that was filled with assorted dried fruits.

            “Thank you! Come on in, take a seat. The others should be arriving shortly,” Lox said with a grin.

            This is how it went with every couple that was invited over for dinner, Martha and Harrington, Jackson and Maria, and Baron and Tammy. They all brought something: cheese, fruit, wine. They sounded so familiar. He couldn’t help but feel he had met all of them before. But no, I couldn’t have… could I?

            There was a tap on the door. Lox headed over to the door.

            “Good evening, welcome to our home. I’m Lox, it’s very nice to meet you,” he said uniformly.

            “Hello. We’re Davis and Lucia,” a deep voice replied. They brought nothing. Shaking their hands, Lox noticed a weird red scar that both Davis and Lucia shared; it almost looked as though they were wearing matching necklaces. The thick line seemed to be indented like a groove. How’d they get those?

He led them to the dining room where the rest of the guests were seated in wooden chairs, around an oval table with a dull gray tablecloth draped over it.

“Please pass the potatoes Lox,” Jackson asked politely. As Jackson reached for the bowl, Lox noticed a strange marking on his wrist. The dark brown hair on the back of Lox’s neck stood straight up. Chills rushed up his spine. Oddly it was almost an exact replica of the scar on Lox’s wrists. It was about an inch wide in a jagged almost spiral shape, outlined in an ash-grey pink. He had to ask.

Squinting his eyes and lowering his eyebrows, Lox addressed Jackson, “Where’d you get that scar?”

Silverware clattered onto the white china plates. A sudden dead silence filled the room. Everyone’s eyes dropped looking at their plates. Marcy stared angrily at Lox. Jackson quickly took the potatoes and pulled his black sleeve over his scar.

“Who wants dessert? Lox, honey why don’t you help me get it,” Marcy said, abruptly breaking the silence. As soon as they got out of ears and into the kitchen, Marcy snapped, “Lox! Don’t be rude! Why can’t you just ask normal questions? Don’t be so nosy! When we get back out there you will behave yourself. End of discussion.”

            “But Marcy, did you see…”

“I said end of discussion!” Marcy yelled.

Where’d he get that scar? Why won’t he tell me? Why won’t anyone tell me? What the hell is going on? I’ll figure it out myself since no one will help me. After dessert, everyone left, and Lox and Marcy headed up to bed.

***

The next evening, Lox wasted no time on his jog. Panting and wheezing he picked up his pace, pushing himself to go faster. I want answers. He was getting closer to the street. His heart beat thunderously. He slowed down. There were no sounds, no whispers, no voices, nothing. Just silence. He cautiously walked to the curb, and stopped. His feet were just inches away from the faded white line that separated him and the street. Breathe. This is where I’ll find the answers. I’m sure of it.

Lox stared at the tattered houses. Puffing out his chest, he crossed the line. For a moment, everything seemed to come alive. He could almost see people living happily here. He could almost see cars pulling into the driveway, and lights shining though the clean glass windows. He could almost see luscious green gardens filled with elegant flowers and ripe fruits, neighbors chatting joyfully with one another, families sitting down at round tables eating.

In a flash, everything faded and turned gloomy. He could no longer see. His eyes glanced slowly around at each of the houses until one caught his eye; there was something different about it. He began walking toward the house when all of a sudden he could only see a painfully bright white light. He felt his body tumble down onto the hard cement.

Bursts of visions jumped in front of his eyes. He saw one of the houses on the street. It looked almost brand new. He seemed to be inside of the house and in the same room as a couple sleeping soundly. There was a third person in the room. A smooth metallic silver tool with a sharp pointed end was being held in the grip of a muscular looking hand. The sharp steel tool was digging and stabbing into the backs of the couple. When it was pulled out, Lox could no longer see the silver, but a dark silky red that dripped from its end.

There was another house, and inside another two people. The same hand was clutching the handle of something small and black. The finger squeezed a curved piece of black metal over and over. Loud noises echoed in the room. Small hard oval pieces sunk straight into the backs of their heads.

Again, there was the hand, and in it, a short piece of rope. He came up to the back of a woman with long hair, and put the rope around her neck. The man went next. The bodies lay silently next to one another on the ground.

The vision turned black. The black soon turned a clear liquid blue. There were splashes, and muffled gasps. Then silence. There were two bodies floating carelessly on the top of the water, their wrists and feet bound tightly with rope, and something covered their mouths.

            The visions came to a sudden stop. Streams of warm sweat oozed over his eyes, blurring his sight. Lox didn’t move. He sat there, his palms pressed firmly on the cold cement, his eyes wandering, remembering each of the houses from the visions.

            “Fuuuuuuuuck! What the hell is happening to me?!” Lox screamed at the street. Did all those murders really happen? All those people, those poor people.

“Why me?” Lox whispered with a raspy voice. Why is this happening to me? I am fed up with hearing and seeing all these things. I need answers.

Feeding off of his adrenaline rush, Lox sprinted home. Standing in front of his door, he noticed a layer of dust resting on his welcome mat. Lifting his head, he slowly pushed open the door and walked in. Turning to shut the door behind him, he heard soft whispers coming from upstairs. He tiptoed over to the wooden stairs, still listening intently to the voices and step by step cautiously climbed upwards, his running shoes gripping the dry wood. Who’s up there? It must be Marcy. With each footstep the voices became louder and louder. Reaching the top, the incessant murmuring flooded into his head. His ears were ringing, the voices weren’t stopping. He couldn’t move. His body was stiff. It was too much. His head began to spin. His vision started to blur and a gray film began to fall over his eyes like a curtain.

“Lox,” one of the voices called out to him. Everything quieted a bit, but the whispers were still there. Lox looked up in the direction the voice came from and saw a black string hanging from the ceiling. He reached up trembling, and pulled it. A silver ladder came tumbling down. Taking a hold of the ice cold railing, Lox heaved himself up the rungs. At the top he peeked around only to see a dark, almost empty room filled with dust. The whispers stopped. In the middle of the room, there was a brown cardboard box sealed with tape that was already cut. His mind went blank. Uncontrollably he crept over to the box. His fingers grasped the sides of the lid, and carefully lifted it up and set it on the floor. Lox stared at the grey clippings of newspaper. He sat down and took out the first of many articles.

“… Couple Anthony and Betty… found stabbed to death in their home. Police still have no suspects…” Lox’s heart froze as he looked at the picture of the couple. No, it can’t be. It’s the same couple that came over last night. He set the article aside and reached in for another. He couldn’t stop. He was afraid, but intrigued. He needed more.

“… Both couples Baron and Tammy, and Harrington and Martha… shot to death. Bullet wounds found in the head and body...” Oh my God, I know them too. He looked at the next few. “… Couple Davis and Lucia… choked to death… rope marks left around their necks... Couple Jackson and Maria… drowned… wrists and ankles tied with rope…” These are all my neighbors. They were just here for dinner. Lox grabbed the last article.

“… Another drowning… couple Lox and Marcy… wrists and ankles tied with rope… imprints remain on wrists…”

***

The next morning Lox awoke to the sound of the doorbell.

            “Honey?” Lox shouted to Marcy.

            “Yes, yes, I’ll get it dear,” Marcy said rushing to the door.

            “Lox, darling, I think you should come down here. There’re new neighbors you should meet.”

            Lox quickly climbed out of bed, ran his fingers through his sticky hair, and headed down the stairs. Next to the staircase, on top of a stand, Lox saw a newspaper, and quickly glanced at the picture and headline “… another couple murdered…” Arriving at the door, Lox sighed as he noticed that the couple looked exactly like the photo in today’s newspaper.