My new neighbors hoarding is becoming a problem

Someone new moved into my neighborhood two weeks ago. Right across from my own. I only met him twice, and I doubt I'll ever see him again. It was right when he was moving in. He had three trucks lined up at his property and was moving the contents inside his house by himself.

“Do you need a hand,” I asked, trying to do the neighborly thing. He turned and glared at me, his wispy gray hair slightly covering his manic blue eyes and bent nose. His scowl quickly turned into a forced grin. “No thanks,” he replied, and grabbed a box from the back of the truck.

“I see you bought the Donavan’s old place," I tried again, trying to establish some kind of friendly connection. "They were nice people. Shame what happened to them.” His hand slipped and the box fell, spilling out the contents. There was a ton of newspaper scraps all around the pavement now and I bent down to help return them to the box.

"No!" the man yelled at me, rushing to grab the spilled paper before I could touch it. He began furiously shoveling it back in and tried to close it before I could see inside. All I saw was the packing paper. He rushed into the house without a word and shut the door behind him. I was going to go right back to my house, but curiosity called and I took a peek inside the truck.

There were dozens of boxes, exactly like the one he just had, all packed tightly inside. I looked over my shoulder towards the house again to make sure he wouldn't see as I took a quick peek inside the nearest one. The cardboard was a little damp and soggy to the touch. As I pulled the top flap up a horrendous stench overpowered me and I caught a glimpse of what could only have been rotting apples. I quickly let go and turned to see the man running out of his house yelling. I turned and hurried back to my house. I locked the door behind me. So much for first impressions.

As I settled back in my own home, I thought about how rude it was of me to invade his privacy. So, I took a seat by my window and watched him continue to move in from across the street. I couldn’t stop thinking about those apples, their smell, their color. They probably went bad during the trip. That was a perfectly logical reason why someone would have brought a box of rotten fruit covered in maggots to a new house. He definitely took the box inside his house so he could dispose of it later. Yeah, nothing wrong with that.

I kept peeking out of that window for the rest of the day, transfixed by the religious fervor that possessed this man as he continued to empty box after box into the house. I'm sure the recycling company were going to have a hell of a time picking up all that cardboard later.

The next day I ran into my neighbor Helene as I was leaving for work. She lived in the house to my right. She was a sweet old lady who enjoyed tea, gardening, and lots and lots of small talk. She was at her garden when I walked out of the door, tending to it as usual, and turned to greet me as I passed by.

"Oh, Dennis did you meet the new neighbors? What’s their name? Did they seem nice?"

 Unwilling to wipe the smile off her face, I replied, "No I haven’t actually met him yet, but I think it’s just one new neighbor."

She seemed a little surprised. "Three moving trucks for one person. To each their own, I suppose."

I started to walk away when she continued, "I was thinking of going over to give him a bundle of flowers from my garden, as a welcome gift. Do you think he'd like that?"

"Yes," I replied, trying to get into my car to spare me any further exchange. I didn't want to be late for work and Helene was good at keeping a conversation running. “You should go over as soon as possible. I see the moving vehicles haven't left yet so he's probably still at home."

 Helene returned to her garden with a smile. I watched her start to pick out flowers as I left for work.

When I returned that evening I was met by something I never expected to see when returning home.

Traffic.

I wondered for a moment why there was so much traffic pulling into my little cul-de-sac when I noticed even more trucks than yesterday were coming and going from the new neighbor's place. Piles of scrap metal were being dumped into the six-acre yard space behind the house. I pulled into my driveway and walked over to my neighbors Tom and Fred who were standing outside of their houses staring at the spectacle.

 "The hell is he doing?” Tom yelled.

"You think he uses that scrap metal for some kind of business?” I tried to rationalize. “Maybe he just needs to hold it somewhere for a bit.”

“I don't care what the hell his reasoning is. He can't be running dump trucks through this neighborhood all fucking night!"

It looked like Tom was going to storm over when his wife called to him from the door, telling him dinner was ready. He stomped back inside and Fred and I looked at each other and smirked. We knew how Tom could get and that if the new guy kept this up there would be quite a show. We both returned to our houses. I sat by my window and watched until the last truck left before turning in for the night.

The next morning was when the tow-trucks arrived. I was woken up before my alarm to the sound of metal grating on asphalt and raised voices. I ran immediately to my window to see what was happening. Lines of trucks towing junk cars were now pulling up to the new neighbor’s house. Tom was outside screaming at the drivers.

I looked at the drivers. They didn’t even seem to realize someone was talking to them. They kept a robotic focus on their task, which apparently was to dump each broken down, old, rusty car into the already junk filled yard. I quickly dressed and rushed out to meet Tom. His wife was holding his arm, trying to stop him from doing something everyone here wanted to see.

“You can’t bring a whole damn junkyard into this neighborhood!” He yelled towards the line of trucks. “It’s illegal! It’s dumping! If you wont stop I’m gonna come over there and make you.”

 He turned towards me as I approached, the veins popping in his forehead a clear indicator of his frustration.

“Can’t we call the city?” I asked. “I’m sure this violates some kind of law.”

“Already did,” he replied. “They hung up as soon as I explained what was happening. Called four times before I gave up.”

The red began to wash away from his face and he faced his wife, tension building the longer he spoke. “I’m sorry honey but something’s gotta be done. I’m taking today off, I’m going over to that man’s house, and I’m not leaving until he stops bringing cars around the neighborhood all day and night.”

Tom stormed off and marched through the train of tow-trucks right up to the new neighbor’s house. I watched him enter before returning to my own.

As I left for work I looked over for Helene. She wasn’t tending to her garden that day, but that wasn’t uncommon. I wanted to know what it was like going over to the new neighbor’s house yesterday. The one time I wanted a little bit of gossip and she wasn’t there. I figured I’d get a chance to ask her about it some other day. I made my way through the tow-trucks and got chewed out for being ten minutes late when I finally got to my office. Then, when I returned home to a refreshingly quiet street, I went back inside my home and stayed there until the next morning.

On the fourth day since the new neighbor moved in I woke to my alarm like normal. I took a quick peek outside and noticed an empty courtyard before me. Happy to see our street clear of traffic and noise I went about my morning as usual. I missed Helene again. That made two days in a row. Tom was evidently satisfied because he wasn’t out screaming again, but I did notice his car was still in the driveway. He usually left before me. I made it to work on time today and had a normal day. Things only seemed off again later that evening.

As I was trying to take my evening shower, the water would not come out of the pipes. I twisted the handle back and forth, trying to coax it out. After the fifth turn a torrent of brown liquid erupted from the nozzle, blowing the shower head clean off. I struggled with the knob and stream of thick water to shut it off. After being sufficiently dowsed in the gross, slimy substance I was finally able to stop the downpour.

The bathroom smelled like a sewer now, myself included. I moved to the sink to wash off the filth, but when I turned the faucet on more brown liquid came out. Frustrated I found some baby wipes and got myself somewhat clean. I pulled out my phone to call a plumber when it started to ring. It was Fred.

“Hey man what’s up?” I answered weakly.

“Dude is your water messed up too?”

I took a deep breath before replying. “Yeah. Some kind of brown water is coming out of all my faucets. It was fine a few hours ago.”

“Sounds like it’s the whole neighborhood then,” he said. “I already put a call into a plumber. They said they’re taking care of it and it might take a few days.”

He paused a moment.

“Hey, have you heard from Tom?”

“No, why?” I asked.

“Sarah called, she hasn’t seen him since he went over to that guy’s house yesterday.”

I thought about the strange circumstances happening around the neighborhood.  It was odd that everyone’s water was messed up, but if there was a sewage problem it would make sense the whole neighborhood would be affected. But Tom not returning home was cause for concern. He loved his wife and he always let her know where he was, even when he was out all night drinking. “Has she called the police?”

“She told them he was missing but they told her he’s an adult and she wasn’t allowed to fill out a missing person’s report until 48 hours had passed.”

That didn’t make sense. If there was real concern you could report a missing person regardless of age or how long they were missing. “Hey, I think I’m gonna rent a hotel room for a bit. While the waters out.”

“Good idea,” Fred agreed. “I’ll be here so I’ll let you know when it’s fixed.”

We said our goodbyes then I started packing my bags. I packed for a week, just in case. I couldn’t believe that Tom was missing, but he’s now the second person I haven’t seen since they went to the new neighbor’s house. I told myself it was probably a coincidence. I should just enjoy a trip away from home, even though I wasn’t going far.

The next morning, I loaded up my car before heading off to work. I didn’t see Helene again today. Her plants were beginning to wilt. The hydrangeas she loved so much were losing their color, slipping into decay. She used to joke about how dramatic they could be, losing their color and drooping like they were now if they went just a couple of days without water.

I stayed in that hotel for a full week. I never got a call back from Fred. I tried calling him but I only got his voicemail. I tried calling Sarah too, but no luck there either. After I ran out of clean clothes I decided it was time to return to my house, but I was worried about what I would find there. I couldn’t stop thinking about how dodgy the police had been in taking my calls about the happenings in my neighborhood. When I couldn’t get in contact with my neighbors I tried calling some kind of authority that would be able to check on them. Nobody I contacted would give me the time of day. I told myself if they weren’t concerned there was probably no reason for me to be and I made the return trip home.

I was shocked by what I saw. I should have left as soon as I turned down my street but I was so transfixed by what laid in wait for me as I returned. How this was allowed to exist without adjacent households or some kind of authority raising concern was absurd.

In front of me I saw my neighborhood transformed into a junk paradise. It was like the filth from the new neighbor’s house had infected the rest of the homes in the neighborhood and spread itself around the cul-de-sac. My own home was altered, changing from the bright white with dark green trim exterior to a moldy yellow with the paint tearing in various places.

Stunned and still staring at the wasteland that had once been my neighborhood, I felt a jolt under my car. I must’ve ran over a sharp piece of scrap metal. The front tire popped and I skidded to a halt. I stepped out of the car and felt someone’s gaze upon me. I whirled around, looking across the street at the new neighbor’s house, the only building seemingly untouched by the whirlwind of garbage, but saw nothing. I decided to run to my house, grab anything I could, and get the hell out of here.

My hands shaking, I fumbled on the front steps and dropped my keys. I bent to grab them when a sudden rustling through the piles of trash made me jerk my head up. I could see shifting in a heap of scrap metal, a few car lengths away from me, near Fred’s house. I stood completely still, waiting for something to pop out of the mound of metal. A few quiet seconds passed, but before I could breathe a sigh of relief the rustling started again, changing from a slight shift to a violent churning. Then, a formless shape seemed to quickly pass through the trash into a nearby mound of garbage bags. Before I could focus on it, it jumped to a pile of newspaper scraps. The papers flew as whatever it was continued to move through more piles of garbage, closer and closer to me with each passing second.

I snapped out of my stupor and broke into a run. I headed towards the new neighbor’s house. Whatever was happening here, that place seemed to be protected from it. Maybe I would be safe there.

The sounds of cans toppling over and plastic ripping chased me to the front of the house. Thankfully the door was already open. I slammed it behind me, hoping I was safe from the filth outside. I leaned against the door as a series of bangs rang out from the door, the frame shaking with every hit. A minute that felt like an eternity passed before it stopped. I stood there panting, thankful to be alive for the moment, but as my eyes adjusted to the dark house I now stood in the dread returned.

The inside of this house was the same as the rest of the neighborhood. Maybe worse. Piles of discarded cans, cardboard boxes, and rotting fruit littered the entryway. I waded through the filth towards the back of the house. I was hoping I could leave through the yard in back and avoid whatever invisible trash monster resided in the front. That was when I ran into Tom, or rather, what was left of Tom.

His lifeless body lay motionless atop a stained coffee table in what appeared to be the living room. It was hard to tell with the mold, sludge, and waste covering the walls and floor. Tom was covered in flies and maggots. The sight of him, the smell; I vomited, only adding to the garbage filled room. I quickly turned away, only to be face to face with the new neighbor.

No words, he simply grabbed me and tried to topple me into the junk filled floor. He pushed me backwards. I felt my calves bump against cold flesh. Tom’s corpse. The new neighbor was stronger than he looked in his stained white tank-top, ripped jeans and unwashed scratchy beard. I was lucky when he slipped, his foot sliding on the fluids that had been inside my stomach moments before. He lost his grip on me and stumbled. I pushed past him and bolted, spotting a sliding glass door just past a kitchen full of expired produce. I tried to wrench it open but there was so much trash on the ground that it refused to budge more than an inch. The neighbor was already back on his feet and charging. I decided to grab one of the stools in the kitchen. I gripped it by the wooden legs and threw it into the door. The glass shattered and I sprinted through it, feeling myself get cut in several places.

I had always seen it from outside my window, but coming face to face with the junk yard he had been amassing was on a whole other level. Piles of metal scrap, rotting food, and every type of disposed refuse in between lay before me in varying heights. Like a city made of trash, with the broken-down cars resting on the pathways in between the mounds of garbage. The smell welcomed me. It was heavy in the air, like a force pushing into my skin.

I stood there for a second, taking it all in, before breaking into a sprint. I had to make it through. The neighbor was still giving chase and gaining, more adept at navigating his realm of filth than I was. I couldn’t move in a straight line, constantly needing to turn as I came up upon piles too vast to run over. Suddenly, a pile to my right began to rustle like before. A blast of scrap metal erupted towards me. I ducked and just barely dodged the brunt of it when I felt something wrap around my foot. A copper wire had coiled around my left ankle and started to drag me into the pile of junk. It opened up for me, like a baby bird waiting to be fed. I kicked and struggled against the thin metal cord. I cried in pan as I was pulled through soggy trash and over jagged edges—broken glass and pointed metal. I felt my shoe finally pop off. I was free. I went back into a run, my unprotected foot scraping against every piece of metal I ran through. I didn’t see the neighbor anywhere, but I could still hear the junk behind me rumbling.

Then I spotted it: a way out. Covered in debris I saw one of the moving trucks from the first day he arrived. I dashed over to it and prayed the key was still there. My second stroke of luck. It was still in the ignition and the truck’s engine coughed to life. I put it into drive just as the neighbor appeared. He leaped onto the hood of the vehicle, banging at the window with reckless abandon.

“You’re a part of us now, you can’t escape!” he screamed. I didn’t care. I slammed on the accelerator, flinging him forward and off to the side. As I plowed through the mounds of trash I briefly looked back at the man I might’ve just killed. I saw him begin to rise, just before a wave of garbage came crashing down on top of him. I kept my foot on the gas and crashed through the fence into the front yard. I drove past my already rusted car and onto the street. I didn’t stop driving until it disappeared from the rear-view mirror, even though the smell never left.

I was able to make it to a gas station I frequented and the clerk let me use his phone. I was able to get a taxi to get back to my hotel. After staying in the shower for over an hour I phoned my uncle. He lived a few states over, but after I explained my situation he agreed to pick me up the next day. I tried to explain to him on the ride what happened. He just listened. I could tell he didn’t really believe me, but I didn’t blame him.

When I got to his house I looked up my street online. I reeled at the articles that popped up. The whole neighborhood was just…gone. There was nothing left, no evidence to prove I wasn’t crazy. They said it was a gas leak, but that just didn’t seem right. At least I could put the ordeal behind me, or so I thought.

I’ve started to notice odd things happening around me; food spoiling faster than it should, spots of dirt creeping up around the house, trash finding its way onto the floor instead of the can where I put it. I think constantly about the final words I heard from my new neighbor, that I am a part of them now. I think whatever destroyed that place may have taken root in me, and I don’t know what to do. For now, I’m keeping all the filth that keeps appearing locked in my room and I plan on taking it all with me when I leave my uncle’s house. If there is something wrong, I don’t want him to get buried in it too.