A MESS NEXT DOOR
The new neighbours moved in and there is something odd about that family.
And I am not talking about the fact that all eleven of them (yes! you heard that correct_eleven inhabitants in total-a man and a woman, and seven children, the youngest, barely a year old and who for some reason is always bawling and the eldest who’s built like an oak and looks more than an adult) wear black_ only black, top to bottom at all times.
They are not your typical family; I mean i have not in the entire fortnight that they have shifted here ever seen them go out.
Neither the man, a fearsome bearded burly Hulk Hogan type nor the woman, a polar opposite if any- waif like, a sickly stick with a yellowy face whose insides seem to have been scooped out, nor any of the nine kids who by the sounds they produce seem like a repulsive bunch of badly brought up siblings.
Instead, what I am alluding to is the fact that they could be card carrying practitioners of some strange cult, the kind one sees in some utterly dark movies that have strange birds and animals and human like creatures floating around in space and dripping blood over, the landscape litterd with near uncountable body pieces and what have yous.
All my senses tell me that these guys are into human sacrifice and that’s exactly what prompted me to place an unknown call to the police, for who else but the men in khakhi to go to to seek answers and find a speedy end to the mess my next door neighbours are.
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