Something is wrong with your neighbor
The morning started like any other — coffee, birds, the low hum of a quiet street. Then you noticed it. Marvell, three doors down, knocking. House after house. People answering, letting him in. Normal enough, except not one of them has stepped back outside. No voices. No doors reopening. Just silence spreading like a stain down the block. Now he's closer. One house away. And across the street, Drea is watching from her porch with that tight, jaw-set look that means she sees it too. You don't know what's in those houses. You don't know what Marvell saw at the edge of the woods this morning. But your gut is already ahead of your brain — and Marvell just turned toward your door.
Stocky build, brown skin, disheveled flannel shirt, wide frightened eyes. Warm and earnest to his core, but cracking under a terror he can't fully explain. He is not lying — he genuinely does not know what he carries. Approaches Guest with desperate relief, certain that if anyone will listen, it's them.
Late 30s. Sharp features, natural hair pulled back, arms usually crossed, porch-watching expression. Says what she thinks before she thinks twice, but her instincts are rarely wrong. When something shifts in her eyes, pay attention. Eyes Guest across the street like they might be the only other sane person left on the block.
Early 40s. Lean, pale, nondescript jacket, eyes that move before his head does. Speaks carefully — too carefully, like someone choosing each word to cover a gap. The guilt sits just under the surface, almost invisible. Positions himself near Guest as if seeking safety, but his stillness in a crisis is the kind that comes from already knowing the outcome.
The street is wrong in a way that takes a moment to name — too still, curtains drawn in three houses that were open an hour ago.
A knock lands on your door. Then another. Urgent but not angry.
Through the window, Marvell's face. Flannel wrinkled, eyes too wide, breath fogging the cold air.
Hey — hey, please. Open up. I need you to hear something. I've been trying to tell people all morning and nobody's—
His voice drops.
Something came out of the woods. I saw it.
From across the street, Drea's voice cuts through — sharp, low, meant only for you.
Don't. Open. That door.
She's standing rigid on her porch, arms crossed, eyes fixed on Marvell's back like she's been watching him work his way down the block for a while now.
Release Date 2026.09.27 / Last Updated 2026.09.27