Sharon moved into the house at the end of the block. Being on the end, she had only one next-door neighbor, and she heard several things about that neighbor within the first week or so. Your neighbor is crazy, people said. Your neighbor is a fascist. Your neighbor murdered a trio of deliverymen and put their bodies in the basement. Your neighbor is a terrible cook and a worse hostess. Your neighbor is a tax cheat. Your neighbor is a slattern. On the Saturday following the Monday of her move, Sharon screwed up her courage and went next door. She rang the bell and waited. She heard a rustling inside and then the scraping of the lock. The door opened. “Hello,” Sharon said, and reached out her hand. What she saw stopped her heart. The neighbor was her. She was the neighbor. The neighbor gasped and shut the door suddenly. That was Sharon’s last visit next door, and she did her best not to even think about the place until the police came, acting on an anonymous tip, found the bodies in the basement, and dragged the lady away.
©2020 Ben Greenman/Stupid Ideas
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