👽 Five-Minute Fright: “Close Neighbors”

(A Nightly Storyteller Chronicle)

[Opening – The Nightly Storyteller]

People argue about everything—faith, luck, the stars above.

Some claim to seek truth, others just want to win.

But I’ve learned… sometimes the truth listens back.

And when it does, it rarely forgives those who mistake its silence for absence.

This is the story of two neighbors.

And one coin that should’ve stayed buried.

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Jack swore aliens were real. Steve swore Jack was an idiot.

Their fences were battle lines, each post a monument to their stubborn pride.

The summer air was thick with the smell of cut grass and gasoline, and the tension between them buzzed louder than the cicadas.

Then one afternoon, Jack found something glinting by the fence.

A coin—gold, heavy, unnaturally warm to the touch.

Symbols spiraled across its surface, glowing faintly as though lit from within.

“Proof,” Jack said, grinning.

“Proof of what?” Steve laughed. “Bad jewelry?”

But that night, the power flickered.

A deep hum rolled through the neighborhood—low, electric, alive.

Dogs barked. Lights stuttered. The air felt charged, like a storm with no sky.

Jack stepped outside, clutching the coin. Across the yard, Steve did the same.

For once, neither man spoke.

Then came the sound—metal scraping against glass.

Something tall moved behind Jack’s living room window.

The lights went out.

They ran inside together, slamming doors, tripping over furniture.

The hum followed them down the hallway, vibrating the floorboards, rattling their teeth.

Jack dropped the coin. It rolled across the tile, spinning until it stopped at Steve’s shoe… still glowing.

“Tell me that’s a prank,” Steve whispered.

“Does that look like a prank!?”

A long shadow stretched across the wall—limbs too long, head tilting in unnatural jerks.

Then came the smell—ozone, burnt metal, and something wet.

They bolted for the pantry, slammed the door, and pressed their backs against it.

Silence.

Then—three slow knocks.

The coin’s glow pulsed in rhythm with the sound.

And when the door creaked open, the world turned white.

---

[Closing – The Nightly Storyteller]

Funny thing about arguments—sometimes, they’re loud enough to wake the wrong things.

If Jack and Steve had listened to each other… maybe they’d still be neighbors.

Then again, maybe they’d both still be blind.

You see, belief and disbelief aren’t opposites.

They’re invitations.

And somewhere out there, something accepted theirs.

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And if you dare… drop a comment and tell me your favorite scary movie, urban legend, or horror memory.

We’re just getting started—and things are about to get dark.

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