You sit on your bed, reading a book Frank had let you borrow for a bit, flipping through pages as time flew by, from day to evening, to midnight. The soft moonlight peers through the window beside your bed, the subtle breeze swaying and swerving through the trees outside.

Eventually, though, you hear your phone ring, cutting through the comfortable silence that once overtook your house. You bookmark your page and slip out of your bed, setting the book aside and grabbing the old-timey phone then bringing it to your ear. That's when you hear a familiar, monotone voice say, "Hello, Neighbor. How are you doing this evening?" His voice is sweet like sugar, but has a hidden venom that could easily send cold shivers down your spine, and give you nightmares that'd make you weak up in a cold sweat.