At first, they were just quiet. Too quiet.
They moved in overnight — no moving truck, no introductions, no lights on during the day. Packages sit untouched for weeks, yet someone is always inside. I’ve never seen them blink. Never seen them eat. And every time I try to make eye contact, they freeze… like they’re calculating something.
In this chilling psychological horror episode, I document the small details that stopped feeling normal: synchronized movements, identical clothing, late-night mechanical sounds coming through the walls. When I started recording what I was hearing, things escalated.
Are they hiding something? Running from something? Or are they something else entirely?
This story explores paranoia, isolation, and the terrifying possibility that the people living next door might not be people at all.