Nosey Neighbor

"Three weeks." Frank peers through the blinds at the neighbor's house. "They moved in three weeks ago, and I still haven't seen anyone come or go from that house."  

He lets the blinds fall back into place and starts to pace. All the while, he continues to bemoan the situation. "Three freaking weeks. What are they doing over there? Why are they so secretive? No one lives that secretively unless they're up to something."

The dust bunnies and spiders that were privy to this monologue didn't bother to point out the irony of the old hermit's complaints.

"I'm going to find out what's going on over there!" Decked out in his pink bathrobe and fuzzy blue slippers, Frank marches out the back door. He walks around the side of the mysterious house and peaks through the bushes, trying his hardest to be inconspicuous. (Of course, in truth, he's approximately as subtle as a giggling toddler sneaking a cookie from the jar.)

"Ahem."

"Ah!" At the sudden noise, Frank squeaks and spins around. He looks up at the very tall, dark-haired newcomer. "Who are you? Why are you sneaking up on a frail old man?"

"I'm your neighbor, Aaron." A subtle grin shows on his face as he looks down at the busybody. "Now, 'frail old man,' why don't you tell me why you're snooping around my house?"

"What? I... How dare you? I would never... You should show some respect to your elders!"

"Uh huh. Well, I'll respect my elders when those elders respect my privacy." Aaron punctuates the statement with a look that has Frank quailing. The smile slides from the newcomer's face. Then, with a hint of a growl creeping into his words, he says, "I better not find you spying on me again."

Then, something sharp pierced Frank's arms. As the world around him faded to black, he could've swore he saw patches of brown fur start to sprout on Aaron's skin.

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Frank wakes up the next morning with a hangover that'd kill a horse. He moans and sits up in the bed, urging his stomach to settle down. The room around him spins like a top and he closes his eyes in the hopes that it will quit soon.

When the room finally stops spinning, he opens his eyes and looks around. "How did I..."

He pushes himself out of the bed. Then, he grabs the two aspirins sitting on the nightstand and chases them down with a large glass of water. Only once those were gone did it cross his mind to wonder who put them there.

"How did I end up in my bed?" He looks around the sparsely furnished room. If the walls could talk, they'd tell him that the neighbor had given him a sedative, carried him inside, and tucked him into bed. But of course, they kept that secret to themselves.

Frank spends the entirety of the day pacing around his house. He truly tries to stay away from the neighbor's property. But curiosity gnaws at him. It digs and chews on his insides until he can hardly restrain himself. By the time night falls and he hears a muffled howl, all bets are off.

Under cover of darkness, he creeps out the backdoor and past the bushes at the edge of the yard. The muffled howls continue, growing louder as he makes his way closer to the neighbor's house. Frank inches up and peers down into Aaron's basement window.

At first, he only sees an empty basement. But then, just as he's about to give up, something walks the length of the basement room. Something that walks like a person, but is covered with brown fur. Something with the snout of a wolf that stops to howl at the sky. Something that detects Frank's presence.

The creature spins around and its yellow eyes lock onto the old busybody. Its lips pull back into a snarl. Saliva drips from its mouth. A growl emanates through the basement wall and chills Frank to his core. Suddenly, the creature sprints toward the window and pounds on the glass. Frank shrieks and books it back home.

With the door safely locked behind him, Frank leans back to catch his breath. He slides down to the floor and hugs his knees to his chest as he mutters to himself, "A werewolf."

Very much in shock, the nosey old man stays put for hours. The howls die away and the sun comes up, but he still sits on the floor. Finally, a sheet of paper slips through the mail slot.

Frank stares at it, wide-eyed, before working up the nerve to pick it up. Carefully, as though the simple scrap of paper might bite him, he unfolds it.

"Leave me alone, old man. Final warning."

A tremor runs through him at the words. Then, he crumples the note and tosses it across the room. "I have to warn people!" The clock on the wall ticks steadily, unaware of the situation's urgency.

Frank pushes himself up off the floor as hastily as he can after his night of cowering. Several creaks and pops and groans later, he rights himself enough to make it to the fireplace. He grabs a poker and stomps out the door.

"Get out here!" He shouts the words as he marches across the lawn. "Get out here, you mongrel!" He hits the bushes with the poker as he goes past. "I know what you are!" His face turns red and his voice keeps getting more shrill. "I saw you! You're a werewolf!" He stomps and jumps, bathrobe flapping in the breeze. "You need to get out of our neighborhood! You mangy mutt! You're a dangerous animal and y..."

Frank freezes as Aaron walks outside. For the first time, the old hermit notices the crowd of onlookers that have gathered around to see what all the fuss is about.

"You..." Frank, wild-eyed, looks around at the crowd. "He's a werewolf! He needs to..."

"Is everything alright here, sir?"

Frank spins around to see a police officer standing nearby. "Arrest him! He's a werewolf! He's not safe! He can't live here in this neighborhood!"

"Okay, sir." The officer holds his hands up and softens his voice in an attempt to calm the old man. "Why don't you come with me and tell me all about it? Alright? Easy does it."

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"He was so secretive." Frank bemoans the situation to the sparsely furnished room. "Nobody should be that secretive. That's why I had to look. And I found out he's a werewolf! I saw him covered in fur, growling and snarling at me!"

The fly on the wall has heard a lot of tall tales in his time at the hospital's Mental and Behavioral Health Unit. This is the first time he's heard of werewolves, but he believes the man isn't crazy. If only the fly could tell someone. Oh well, he thinks to himself as he buzzes out the door, perhaps it's best not to stick my nose where it doesn't belong.