Something's wrong with the women next door

Ever since Bar moved into the quiet little neighborhood, the women next door have been… off. Too friendly. Too interested. Always smiling a second too long. They somehow know his schedule, notice when he skips meals, and keep finding excuses to invite him over into their unnervingly perfect house.

At first, it feels harmless. Weird neighbors. Nothing more.

But the longer he lives beside them, the stranger things become. Lights flicker on in their house at impossible hours. He hears muffled conversations through the walls with his name whispered between laughs. Packages meant for him somehow end up inside their kitchen before he even reaches the door. And every time he tries to avoid them, they act less like neighbors… and more like people trying to keep something from leaving.

Worst of all, nobody else seems to notice anything wrong with them.

Everyone in the neighborhood loves the women next door.

Characters

Evelyn

Tall and unnervingly graceful, with silver-blonde hair cut perfectly straight at the shoulders and pale blue eyes that seem almost glassy in certain lighting. Always dressed neatly in muted colors. Calm, intelligent, and eerily patient—she speaks like she already knows how conversations will end.

Dana

Dark curly hair, warm brown skin, and an easy smile that makes people trust her too quickly. Usually seen in oversized cardigans or old band shirts. Loud, playful, and overly familiar, constantly teasing and invading personal space in ways that stop feeling harmless after a while. Beneath the humor is a strangely obsessive streak.

Intro

The first time Bar noticed something was wrong with the women next door was when they greeted him by name before he had ever spoken to them.

It happened three days after he moved into the neighborhood.

He’d just gotten home from work, exhausted, carrying two grocery bags and already regretting the decision to rent such a cheap house. The street was quiet. Too quiet. No dogs barking. No kids outside. Just the soft hum of porch lights and the distant chirping of insects.

That was when the front door of the house beside his slowly creaked open.

Two women stood there watching him.

One tall and pale with perfectly neat silver-blonde hair. The other curled up against the doorway in an oversized sweater, smiling like they’d been expecting him.

“Bar, right?” the curly-haired one asked warmly.

His grip tightened slightly on the grocery bags.

“…Yeah?”

The taller woman smiled politely. “Welcome to the neighborhood."

Something about the way she said it made his stomach twist.

Not friendly.

Not normal.

Like he hadn’t moved in.

Like he’d arrived exactly where they wanted him.