Hell Theater
Neighbors

Creepypasta is about a woman who has a new neighbor. The neighbor was initially friendly, but over time the neighbor's friendly attitude began to unsettle.

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I'm not usually familiar with my neighbors. There were only three rooms on the floor of my apartment, but I can't remember the last time I talked to Jude and Stella. I was not at all surprised to find out they were moving. But I'm surprised they didn't tell me about it at all.

But never mind, my new neighbor's name is Ken. From a glance at his apartment room, most of Jude's 2nd belongings are still there. I think they left it and sold it along with their room. The right decision. I imagine it must be very troublesome to move that much furniture. The 2nd thing is a painting. I saw him leaning on the sofa as I peeked inside. The painting looks like an ancient map, composed of 2 different parts that seem to symbolize the country2. After thinking for a moment, not only did Ken use most of Jude's furniture, he even dressed a little like him.

It's weird how I don't really know Jude and Stella. You know, it's the awkward relationship of today's neighbors who only greet each other when they meet in the hallway. Sometimes we promise to stop by and have a chat, but it's all just a small talk.

Ken's different. He came that night, but I was getting ready to go out. In fact, it comes almost every night. Since I was busy outside the house, there was always a polite reason for me to reject his invitation.

At first, Ken just stopped by to borrow something. With a big smile on his face, he would stand at my door and borrow scissors or tape. He even borrowed my kitchen equipment. From the smell of his cooking it seems he used a small stove commonly used for camping. Maybe the gas company hasn't connected the gas lines yet?

I sometimes offered to use my kitchen, but he always refused. Benar2 a polite man.

But even though Ken looks kind and friendly, I have to say that he's a little stubborn. Since the middle of last week, he came every night once or twice, sometimes even up to three times. He also invited me to sit2 in his apartment. First he took me to see a sports match on television, but I said that I would only bore him. He looked sad and tried again a few hours later, until I finally became tired of refusing all his calls.

However, all the reasons became strange and more bizarre. He invited me to see a movie, but I thought such a thing was too intimate for an acquaintance. Then he invited me to cook together, but by then I had bought food. And to be honest, I'm starting to get uncomfortable with all the calls. Maybe because he looks so lonely and looking for a new friend in the city?

However, Ken sounds like a local. In fact, he seemed to know more about this environment, more than anyone else who stayed longer than him! I had to make a duplicate of the key, and when I asked him, he described the path to the lock shop in a way I had never heard before. Unlike ordinary people – turn left there, turn right there – he explained it by describing the person2 I will meet.

“Go down that street,” he said, “and when you see the face of a fat cashier, turn left.”

He continued,

“When you pass the poster of an adult film that makes every male2 ashamed to see it, turn right. His shop is the only store with two people behind the cashier, a married woman and a young man who laughs reluctantly at his every joke.”

The description is true2 scares me. But in reality, when I walked along the route, his word2 was still ringing in my head, and I saw it true2 happened. The time where the face of a fat cashier, there was a narrow alley between two houses – shortcuts that I had never noticed before.

I could see how the men2 glanced at the movie poster, their faces turning a little red rather than usual. And the young man also laughed at the woman's joke. It's all the same as Ken said.

Is human true2 easy to guess? Does that person2 always do that? is the person2 who is at the cashier always standing in the same place?

The third time was when I was getting ready for bed. Somehow I got the impression that he was trying to get into my apartment. He was friendly and polite, but rather pushy. He even asked if he could take a picture of me. He said for his collection. I might have been a bit rude when I turned it down, but I was just too tired to deal with a strange neighbor.

The last time he came was today, just a few minutes after I got home. I was cooking, so I wasn't too sure I heard a knock at the door. I then heard it clearly when he started banging on it. He called my name. He sounded panicked and angry at the time. I didn't really hear what he said and I don't remember it either, but a few words continue to be imprinted in my memory.

“Come on, you have to help me finish it.”

“I only need one more.”

“Come on, I know you're inside.”

I wasn't sure why I didn't open the door at the time, but I felt it was the right decision.

“Please, I'm right2 need you.”

“You have to help me! Not many have the right color like you.”

With each sentence spoken, he became even more angry.

“I don't have much time!”

“You have to help me, whether you want to or not!”

And just as I was about to call the police, I heard a siren. I froze in place as soon as I heard the sirens grow louder and realized they were heading to my apartment. Meanwhile my door shook because someone out there was trying to break it.

Then I heard a scream outside the door, the doorbell ringing constantly.

Next I heard shouting and cursing sounds, right at my door.

I even heard the police shouting about a murder charge.

I didn't really understand what they were talking about, but he started talking about cut2.

Skin piece.

“A map,” I said to myself, “It was just a map.”