We have an abandoned house across the road from us.
It’s very old, has holes in the roof and walls, sits on 70 acres of land, and has a barn where a stray cat we call “Molly’s brother” lives.
He’s probably not even related to our cat but we like to think he is.
We watch this house. We watch for people driving by, the owners, who live in Toronto, coming by and tending to the lawn, for animals who go in and out.
Because our road is safe and we, along with all of the neighbours, are
The night before last, while we were outside, a car pulled up and several people got out. Then the car left, leaving a couple of people behind. There is no running water at this house and the entire place has been destroyed by wildlife.
So we watched closely.
After staring for some time Brian went out and spoke with this new neighbour briefly. He came home and asked if I’d picked up our mail, “He said his name was Brian. I didn’t ask what his last name was because he would have said mine, obviously someones been looking at our mail.”
And that snowballed into us coming up with our own stories.
We continued watching intently from the garage for too long and looked incredibly creepy, sent the neighbour kids over to spy from behind a tree, and then the neighbour went over and asked what he was doing there. We have concluded that he’s there to kill us.
Or he’s a squatter.
Or he’s on the run.
Apparently we are bored in the country. Or incredibly paranoid.
Regardless we have banded together as we stand and watch, nervous of this new arrival, weary of his intentions.
Welcome to the neighbourhood.