Down the street and a couple turns left is a very pleasant looking house. The front lights are always left on, giving whoever passes by the impression of someone who’s always welcoming just about anybody. That house belongs to a man named Charles.
Not too much is known about old Charles. Hardly anyone ever sees him out anymore. He’s always inside doing something. Nobody every bothers to look into him because we aren’t a bunch of busybody’s trying to stick our nose in other people’s business. However, there’s a little something I can share with you if you’d like.
This story was told to me by someone else, so consider me a second-hand source.
It was quite a while ago when this happened. A new neighbor whose name I won’t say had trouble sleeping one night. He still hadn’t become accustomed to his new surroundings and wanted to take a look around. Keep in mind that this was all happening late at night when everyone else was asleep. It didn’t seem likely that anyone would catch him on his late night strool.
While walking down the street this neighbor noticed something particularly odd. One of the houses had all of its lights on, and it was the same house that he never saw or heard any activity from. Now this new neighbor was a bit of the nosy type. He had no problem with investigating into someone else’s private business. As quietly as he could this neighbor tiptoed through old Charles’s lawn towards his window.
Sounds of a shaky voice mumbling could only be faintly heard. This neighbor hid beneath the window and gently raised his head to get a better view. He could see the kitchen where Charles was sitting all by himself. Nothing he said made any sense, but Charles kept talking as if there had been someone with him listening to every word.
The neighbor got a little bold at not being caught and raised his head even further. At this point Charles had left the room still mumbling to himself. Ordinarily, most people would just assume the old man had entered his senile stage, but apparently not this neighbor. He insisted on staying and even nestled his ears closer to the window so he could hear what was going on.
Charles came back shortly after. He was laughing to himself and holding a cup of what appeared to be coffee. He poured it cheerfully while humming and upbeat tune to himself. Nothing really seemed to be all that strange and the nosy neighbor was beginning to wonder why he’d even eavesdropped to begin with.
He was about to turn and leave when he saw Charles sadly lower his head. His hands weakly rose from his sides and held firmly onto his cup. The neighbor could see his eyes fixating on the cup, only occasionally looking up at the empty seat in front of him. Charles looked up twice before freezing the third time. The neighbor could see his hands trembling as he saw something that bothered him immensely. However, the neighbor couldn’t see whatever it was. To him it looked like Charles had been terrified by the wall in front of him.
Something about this moment made the neighbor feel very uneasy. He found himself looking over his shoulder every once in a while to make sure there was nothing behind him waiting to pounce.
Apparently Charles was feeling the same way. He looked over his shoulder as well. The neighbor ducked fearing that he’d been caught. Sounds of Charles’s geriatric feet brushing across the floor creaked through the silence as the old man approached his sink. There were sounds of him opening doors and taking something out.
When the neighbor looked up again Charles had left. The neighbor wanted to run and forget what he’d seen, but his curiosity had grown far too strong at this point. Instead he resisted every word to flee and waited with growing anxiety for Charles to return.
It must have been about an hour or so before this neighbor heard something once more. The sound itself was very difficult to hear, but he did hear it. Charles had come back with something in both hands. He was wearing bright blue dishwashing gloves and a plastic grocery bag in the other. Blood was dripping from both hands and the inside of the bag looked particularly gruesome.
The neighbor didn’t know what to think, nor did he really want to find out what Charles had been up to. He cast one last glance at Charles and saw a pained expression on his face. His eyes were downcast and his already wrinkled forehead now had several more. Tears were dripping from his eyes as he continued to mumble to himself. The neighbor became so overwhelmed from this site that he fell backwards and stared at the house he had innocently walked by that night.
The rest of the neighborhood had no idea about any of this. People were still sleeping snugly in their houses while this went on, and this was probably what terrified the neighbor the most. He fled from that house shortly after and eventually ended up leaving the house altogether.
You might be wondering what was in the bag that old Charles had been carrying. I have a little theory about it, seeing as I’m the only one who actually knows about this incident and all. See, everyday Charles talks about his beautiful wife and how they create such wonderful memories together. You can see his eyes light up at every mention of her, but the moment somebody asks if he can bring her out his expression turns dark. This baffled everyone in our neighborhood for years. After all, it only seemed natural that he would want to talk about this wife he thought highly of. Maybe it’s better off that we didn’t. Sometimes it’s best to simply mind your own business.
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