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The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/BothAd7659 on 2024-09-28 08:20:38+00:00.

Now, don’t get me wrong. My neighbor, Ray, seems like a nice guy. He’s this handsome man in his mid to late forties. He’s charismatic, bright, and very charming. If I were a few years younger, I might even say I have a little crush on him- though, I’d never admit it.

However, as of recently, I’ve been observing him exhibiting some questionable behavior. Trust me: I’m no stranger to unique habits, given I have a few of my own. But his are a little more… disturbing.

Let me give you some context:

Ray has this spare bedroom in his basement. Instead of renting it out to make extra money, he offers up the room to homeless young women in our town free of charge. Now, to most people, this would appear to be a massive act of service done by a standup guy.

But something about the whole situation is a little off.

Before I start bashing Ray, I want to give him some credit- he had some normal hobbies that he kept up with. He loved to garden. He was constantly digging up his backyard- mulching it and tending to the various species of plants and trees that grew in a seemingly random pattern.

This was normal enough, given a large majority of our community had taken up gardening as a hobby. He would even have some of the women he let stay in his house to help out. I had often seen them digging holes and watering plants under Ray’s supervision.

However, this would never last long, given that these ladies wouldn’t stay longer than a month or two and I didn’t see much of them.

I remember being confused the first time I watched him ushering one lady into his home.

Being the nosey neighbor I am, I had asked him who she was later that day, assuming she was a family member of his who was passing through our tiny, rural town. Or maybe even a lover he was trying to keep discreet.

But when Ray responded, he got all excited and childlike. “Oh! Those are some homeless girls I’ve been taking care of. I love to look out for the homeless population in town. Wanted to make sure they have a safe place to sleep and a nice meal to eat each day.”

I thought it was a bit weird that he was only choosing young girls as tenants but I figured there was a good reason for it. Perhaps he had a female friend or sibling who had been in a similar situation and was more sympathetic to that demographic. At the end of the day, it seemed like a wholesome, innocent contribution to society.

At least, that’s how I tried to view it despite the gnawing feeling in my gut and blaring sirens sounding in my head.

All I knew was that each day, Ray would leave his house at approximately 7 in the morning after having his cup of Joe on the porch and chirping a “good morning” to each passerby. Like clockwork, he’d return at around 5 in the evening, do some yard work, and withdraw back into his house. I usually wouldn’t see much of him for the rest of the day.

He must be quite a man of routine, I thought.

Even so, there was still something about him that was… off. Something in his eyes that wasn’t quite right. Something very few people would take note of if they weren’t looking closely enough.

And on top of that, recently, things started getting even weirder…

The most recent occupant of my neighbor’s downstairs bedroom was this blonde girl who looked no older than 18.

Ray had ushered her into the house like all the rest, with one arm slung around her shoulder and a black jacket shielding most of her face from my view.

From what I could see, she looked fairly well-kept for someone who had supposedly been living on the streets. And what the hell was with the jacket? I mean, for god’s sake, she was no celebrity, right?

The following days, after Ray would leave, I heard some odd sounds coming from his house during all hours of the day. I work most days from home as an independent contractor so I tend to keep an ear out for shenanigans going on in the neighborhood while most of the community is elsewhere.

These noises included but were not limited to heavy metal music, banging on (what sounded like) pots and pans, occasional yelps (like that of a small dog), and loud laughing (or crying; it was a bit hard to tell). I assumed that Ray’s current housemate just had some alternative interests. Again, I’m in no position to judge, granted I have my own unusual hobbies.

Initially, I let it go. When Ray would return, all the noise would cease as if he had just walked in and turned the volume down on the whole household.

I thought about bringing it up to him but decided against it. Something about the whole thing irked me… but there was no evidence of any wrongdoings on Ray’s part. What more could I do besides sit idly by and watch it all unfold?

That was until one night last week. I was up in my bedroom getting settled in for bed when I heard the softest, most muffled tapping noise. It came in increments:

Tap tap tap.

Pause.

Tap tap tap tap.

Pause.

Tap tap.

At first, I simply ignored it. But after about 15 minutes, the tapping had grown louder and seemingly more urgent, coming in more frequent increments.

I found myself searching for the source, during which time the noise had almost driven me to the brink of insanity.

I had almost decided that it was an auditory hallucination, courtesy of spending most of my days in silence when my eyes fell upon the closed curtains of my large window sill. Perhaps the tapping was coming from outside. I peeked through the curtains in an attempt to scan the surroundings of my home.

I had discovered Ray’s upstairs bathroom window faced my bedroom window after an unfortunate incident involving me undressing unbeknownst to my audience (Ray) taking an innocent glance outside while brushing his teeth.

I took a liking to keeping my curtains closed after that.

It usually takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the pitch darkness given our town refuses to install street lights and Ray’s lights are usually out by 9 pm. This time, however, I noticed Ray’s upstairs bathroom light was on despite the time being around 10 o’clock.

And there was a silhouette inside, facing me.

The dark figure was far too small to belong to Ray so I assumed it was his blonde occupant, the girl I had seen earlier. Did Ray know she was upstairs? I had never seen any of his tenants use the upstairs bathroom.

What was even more odd were her gestures. She was waving her arms around her head like a lunatic. At first, I thought she might have had a blow drier in her hand or at least something she was using to style her hair.

But upon closer inspection, I realized her hands were empty.

These frantic gestures continued for a moment before the bathroom light turned off and the house went dark.

A chill ran down my spine. The whole scene was perturbing.

That night, I lay awake in bed attempting to rationalize what I had seen.

I began to theorize- perhaps she was a recovering addict and suffering from withdrawals. Or maybe she was trying to kill a fly?

Yet, I couldn’t imagine what scenario would cause her to act so… strange. And I couldn’t shake that feeling that she was in some sort of danger.

In lieu of the incident, I decided to talk to Ray the following morning about what I had seen. I wanted to make sure he was aware of it in case there was something he knew that I didn’t. Or maybe even something he could do to help with whatever was going on.

“Morning, Ray!” I greeted him as I approached his front porch.

He was sitting in the same old rickety rocking chair, sipping from his usual ceramic mug.

“Well good morning, Miss Lisa.” Ray’s face broke out into his famous, dazzling grin. “What can I do for ya this fine morning?”

“I was just wondering about that new tenant of yours. The blonde one, I mean. Who lives downstairs? I saw her in your upstairs bathroom last night and she seemed a bit… well… a bit agitated.”

The look on Ray’s face changed for a moment so brief, if I had blinked I would’ve missed it. His grin had vanished and his features were consumed by an expression so feverishly unhinged, he was almost unrecognizable.

But just as quickly as his face had become the monstrosity I just described, it morphed back into a look of concern: arched brows, earnest eyes, and a subtle frown.

I had subconsciously taken a few steps back, attempting to make sense of what I had just seen. “Oh, geez, Miss Lisa. I can’t apologize enough for the burden. I had no idea Danielle had bothered you last night. She must’ve been toying around in my medicine cabinet, again. I’ll have a talk with her and smooth everything over, I promise.”

I was still trying to process his sudden change in demeanor as I struggled to find a response. “Oh, no, Ray. It was no bother at all. I just wanted to make sure she was okay, is all.”

“Oh, don’t you worry your blessed heart. She’ll be fine. Just a case of night fever, I’m sure.” And he gave me a smile so dazzling, it almost made me forget about the horrific face I had seen him make just moments prior.

You know that feeling you get in the pit of your stomach when you know something is about to go horribly wrong? Like instead of butterflies in your stomach, it’s moths or bees or something?

That’s precisely how I felt walking back to my house after my interaction with Ray. I spent the entire rest of the day glancing periodically outside my bedroom window- watching… waiting… for the inevitable disaster my gut had anticipated.

But all I saw were the usual activities. Ray leaving the hous…

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