The New Neighbor

At first, I thought Mrs. Peabody was simply a kind old lady. When she moved into the house next door, she brought me a basket of homemade cookies. She smiled broadly and said, "Welcome to the neighborhood, dear." Her hands were soft, her voice gentle. She brought to mind my grandmother. A week later, the first strange thing happened. I woke up to find a single cookie on my doorstep—just like the ones she’d given me. It was sweet despite being odd. Perhaps she hadn't put it in the basket at all. I ate it with my morning coffee. It tasted faintly of cinnamon and something else… something metallic.

Then the dreams started.

Mrs.'s vivid and unsettling dreams Peabody was watching me sleep at the foot of my bed. My room was always empty, despite my gasping and pounding heart upon awakening. I heard someone scratching at my window one night. I told myself it was simply a branch from a tree. However, the nearest tree was too far away to reach the glass when I looked outside. That’s when I noticed the footprints in the flower bed below—small, delicate, like an old woman’s shoes.

Another cookie was waiting for me on my porch the next morning. This time, I skipped eating it. I threw it away and decided to pay Mrs. Give Peabody a call. Maybe she was lonely. Maybe all she wanted was a friend. Her house smelled like vanilla and mothballs. Dutzendes of framed photos, all of them of young women, covered the walls. Some are happy, some are serious. Nobody knew anyone. "Who are these individuals?" I inquired. Mrs. Peabody’s smile didn’t waver. "Oh, dear, just old friends." Then I saw it.

a picture of me. It was recent and was taken from the window of my kitchen. I was standing at the sink, unaware that I was being watched.

My temperature dropped. Mrs. Peabody looked at me. Too many teeth were visible in her widened smile. "I do love making new friends," she said.

I left in a hurry.

That night, I locked every door and window. In case anything happened, I even put a chair under the doorknob of my bedroom. But when I woke up, there was a cookie on my nightstand.

And a note in spidery handwriting:

"Eat up, dear. You’ll need your strength."

Would you eat the cookie? Please let me know in the comments, and you might want to check your locks tonight.