"Lindsay," he suddenly turned back and inquired, "could something have happened?"
"Happened? What do you mean?"
"Earlier, lights were visible, yet now all lies in darkness. You saw no one this morning. Two possibilities exist: either the occupants have met with misfortune, or perhaps no one moved in at all - we might be dealing with intruders! Let's peek through the windows and investigate."
Edith found herself admiring Carol's ingenuity. His next move would undoubtedly involve seizing this opportunity to observe the interior. Even if trouble arose, he carried the high heels in his notably spacious trouser pockets, easily accessible if needed. He had prepared meticulously.
For Edith, her psychic sensitivity provided a natural early warning system against danger, requiring no redemption tickets. Despite any plot alterations, she could rest peacefully without fear of nocturnal supernatural encounters.
"Very well, then."
Just a glimpse... What secrets lay within that house?
They approached the building cautiously.
The two-story structure bore marks of age - cracked walls adorned with creeping verdant vines. A rooftop terrace loomed above, its windows completely shrouded. The ground floor featured a single window, fortified with security bars.
"This..."
Though curtained, the barred window offered a slight gap through which to glimpse the interior.
In the unlit darkness, Carol illuminated his phone while his other hand gripped the high heels in his pocket, ready for immediate deployment should anything unusual occur. Edith maintained her composure, confident in her psychic abilities.
The living room emerged dimly into view, furnished completely - evidence of occupation. Sofa, coffee table, television - everything in place. No figures were visible, the curtains further obscuring their view.
Carol's phone light revealed a coat rack in one corner, from which hung... a black trench coat.
"The coat remains - suggesting they haven't left," Carol observed, glancing at Edith. "Presumably outerwear kept ready in the living room is meant for going out?"
"Perhaps an elderly resident, already retired for the night?" Edith proposed reasonably. "Maybe they've returned home, exhausted and sleeping. Though it's winter, such a thick coat suggests someone particularly susceptible to cold."
"Who can say? Hopefully that's all it is, though we can't be certain nothing's amiss."
"We're powerless without more information. We should depart."
In Edith's mind, every detail of their observation remained indelibly etched. Yet, she had detected no acute sense of danger during their vigil.
Whether their actions would trigger unforeseen consequences remained uncertain. Despite this knowledge, she couldn't abandon her residence. Horror films that preserved freedom of movement still imposed constraints through red-line text - in Edith's case, Lindsay was strictly forbidden from relocating unless specifically dictated by the script.
Carol had already altered the narrative, and she too had peered through that window. The repercussions remained uncertain, though Edith harbored no regrets. Her previous hesitation stemmed from too many unknowns and lack of justification, but now that Carol had taken the initiative for intelligence gathering, she couldn't lag behind - particularly given his well-crafted pretext.
"I'll take my leave then."
Carol and Edith bid farewell at her doorstep. Watching his retreating figure, she returned to Lindsay's home, following yesterday's routine of retrieving ingredients from the refrigerator to prepare dinner.
This time, her vigilance had intensified manifold.
Everything mirrored the previous evening's sequence. Yes, until...
Before retiring, her mind churned with strategies for future intelligence gathering. Tonight would conclude Act One. Thus far, only mysterious hints had emerged, their significance still unclear.
Before bed, she descended to the kitchen for water, opening the window. Outside lay absolute darkness, devoid of streetlights, illuminated solely by feeble moonlight. Like the study, the kitchen wall nearly touched the neighboring house.
As Edith "prepared to leave" after drinking, a crisp sound reached her ears.
A door opening.
The profound silence and proximity allowed crystal-clear reception. She turned immediately, though the kitchen window prevented direct view of their previous vantage point.
The "new neighbor" had returned.
Edith stood alone in the kitchen, delivering her scripted soliloquy: "So they were out. Probably returning from night shift."
She peered out again, expressing confusion as she continued: "Strange, their windows remain dark. Why not turn on lights upon returning home? Perhaps too exhausted, straight to bed?"
Inwardly, Edith pondered - this person... no, this "being" had gone out, yet what of the trench coat they'd spotted on the rack?
She closed the kitchen window.
Her psychic senses remained quiescent. Yet she knew - danger approached.
Upstairs in her bedroom, she slipped beneath the covers. Midnight loomed near. Soon, sleep embraced her.
In her dreams, she revisited her life before the theater - a privileged heiress who, by eighteen, had traversed the globe and moved effortlessly through high society. At art school, she'd pursued performance passionately while her father leveraged connections, introducing her to directors who could expedite her entertainment industry entry. She'd cultivated relationships with music producers, advertisers, and film executives. Though determined to succeed on merit, she pragmatically utilized her inherent advantages in the industry's complex ecosystem. Her lifelong experience in elite circles had helped her establish valuable connections, laying groundwork for her future...
This trajectory had been jarringly disrupted. Just as she'd secured a prestigious cosmetics commercial, she'd discovered a horror film poster in that advertising agency's corridor...
As her dream recreated the moment of finding the poster, it transformed into "The New Neighbor," that house materializing before her.
Then, a grief-laden cry suddenly pierced her consciousness.
Weeping...
Edith jolted awake, instinctively flailing to cast off the phantom poster. Realizing it was a dream brought momentary relief, until she recognized the anomaly - the script contained no provision for midnight awakening!
Furthermore, she suddenly realized the weeping from her dream perhaps wasn't merely imagined!
Holding her breath, she strained to listen, and through the pitch-dark bedroom, the crying reached her ears once more!
The sound seemed distant - logically too faint to have roused her! Moreover, no such event existed in the script!
Edith immediately grasped the significance - this stemmed from her psychic sensitivity!
Her mediumship naturally facilitated communion with spirits, a capability of immense value in horror films. This intuitive response occurred independently of her conscious will, requiring no redemption tickets - a tremendous advantage of her gift.
She rose again, donning slippers, and followed the sound's origin beyond her bedroom.
Along the silent corridor, the intermittent weeping echoed hauntingly. Yet Edith, seasoned almost to Julian's level and blessed with psychic abilities, remained composed. While ordinary actors had to calculate when to deploy cursed objects, her powers activated through mere thought, with comparable efficacy. Though not fearless, she maintained remarkable composure.
This deviation from script presented both opportunity and risk. However, it provided ample justification to investigate her new neighbor.
Finally, the sound led her to the study, its window facing the neighboring house, now curtained.
Edith crossed the space in swift strides.
The crying grew clearer - a spectral sound audible only to her. Her psychic influence had already altered the plot, rewriting Lindsay as naturally clairvoyant. A minor adjustment.
Opening the study window, she gazed toward the house.
The weeping intensified, followed by an overwhelming sense of danger!
Instantly, Edith shut the window, activating her psychic abilities while retreating swiftly from the study.
"What could that crying mean?"
She fled to her bedroom. After ten seconds inside, she ceased using her power. Her film salary of 900 redemption tickets had been completely deducted.
Though aware that her protagonist status likely ensured survival without using her abilities, circumstances had demanded immediate action. Spirits needn't manifest visibly to kill - such risks, especially in the dead of night, proved too perilous.
Her encounter with the weeping and recognition of the neighbor's supernatural nature earned her 500 redemption tickets. Though insufficient compensation, it exceeded nothing.
Tomorrow... action would become necessary.