I had a disturbing conversation with my neighbour’s 10-year-old son.
(From reddit, by u/samhaysom, website)
I didn't hear Michael at first.
The noise of the mower filled my head like a swarm of angry wasps, drowning everything else out. I was finishing off the last strip of grass, closest to my neighbour's wall. Being as quick as I could. The last hint of light was bleeding out of the sky, and I wanted to get back inside as soon as I could. A beer in front of the TV was calling.
But when I reached the far end of the garden and cut the power, I heard a voice behind me.
"Paul?"
I jumped slightly. You know when you're so caught up in your own head you forget your surroundings? My wife is back from holiday tomorrow — she's been off in Spain with a couple of her friends for the past week — and I'd been thinking about my plan to meet her at the airport. Timings, when I'd need to leave, all that. I was in my own little bubble. The voice floating over from my neighbour's garden punctured through it.
I turned from the mower and stared over the low wall into the garden next to mine. I couldn't see anything at first — the sky was mostly dark overhead, and the only light spilling into the gardens came from single street lamp on the road behind my house. It did little to shift the shadows.
"Over here."
I shifted my gaze and finally saw him. Michael. My new next door neighbour. I'm pretty bad at guessing kids' ages, but I reckon he has to be around 10. He's got a shock of messy black hair and these big, brown eyes. The kid's a starer, too. I've only seen him a couple of times since he and his mum moved in last week, but every time I do he gazes at me like I'm an animal in the zoo. It's a little annoying. This was the first time he'd actually spoken to me, though.
"Oh, hey... Michael, is it?" I actually knew his name perfectly well — I'd bumped into the estate agent selling the house next door and he'd told me — but I didn't want to appear over familiar.
"Yeah, I'm Michael. And you're Paul, my mum said."
"That's me. How are you guys settling in?"
"Okay, I guess." Michael stared up at me with those large, brown eyes of his. I don't have much cause to talk to kids, so I may have been completely wrong about this — but I had the feeling Michael was making a lot more eye contact than someone his age normally would. He hardly even blinked. Young kids — at least in my limited experience — tend to be all over the place. Little bags of energy. But Michael was the exact opposite.
It's probably close to his bed time, I found myself thinking. And then, off the back of that: You want to be glad he's not bouncing off the walls. If he was one of those kids, you'd never get any peace.
Amazingly, considering they were still in the early moving stage, I'd barely heard a peep out of Michael and his mother. I'd been expecting to hear the sound of furniture shifting and boxes being lugged around all week, but I hadn't. They'd hardly made any noise at all. I'd hardly seen them at all, for that matter. They'd arrived late one evening the previous week, and I'd caught a glimpse of them from the window of my study — but that was pretty much it. I remember Michael's mum as a tall, attractive woman who looked a little older than me, but I hardly even got a proper look at her face. And this conversation with Michael was the first interaction I'd had with either of them.
I'll go round at some point when Beth's back home, I thought now, folding down the mower's handle. Then we can introduce ourselves properly.
"So, Michael," I said, picking up the mower and carrying it back along the garden, "what are you and your mum up to this evening? I'm guessing it must be close to your bedtime soon?"
"Nah, nowhere near," he said.
I chuckled. "Okay, well my bedtime's pretty early, so I'm going to head in and catch a bit of TV, I reckon. I'll see you round, yeah?"
I reached the little wooden storage area at the end of the garden and slotted the mower underneath. I was on my way to the back door when Michael's voice stopped me. "Paul?"
"What's up, mate?"
"Do you always mow the garden so late?"
I smiled. "No, I usually try to get it done when the sun's still out. Only my wife's back home tomorrow, and I wanted to get the place looking nice for her. I guess it must look pretty odd to be out here mowing at night, eh?"
"Nah, I don't think so. I think everything's more fun at night."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah! I go on adventures all the time." I could hear the excitement in Michael's voice, even though I couldn't see his face properly. He was just a shadowy outline in the darkness of his garden. "One time we even went night fishing — have you ever been?"
I shook my head. "I've been fishing once or twice, but only during the day."
"It's way more fun at night, I reckon. Everything's more sneaky at night."
I found myself grinning again. Despite my urge to go back inside, the kid was sort of entertaining. "Well, maybe you and your mum can show me and my wife sometime. Sounds like you guys are way more exciting than we are."
I turned once more to the back door. This time I was actually holding the handle when Michael's voice stopped me.
"Paul?"
"Yes, buddy?"
"Paul, do you have anything to drink? Like juice, or anything?"
I hesitated. "Er, I'm not sure. I don't think I—"
"Do you mind if I have a glass real quick? Mum's still sleeping, and she's been super tired this week. I don't want to wake her."
I paused with my hand on the door. If Beth had been in, I probably would have said yes straight away. Likely without even thinking about it. But standing there in the dark garden, I was suddenly aware that it might look a bit odd if I invited a 10-year-old kid into my house. Even if he was my next door neighbour. And I doubted his mum would like the idea all that much.
"Do you not have anything to drink at your place, mate?" My hand was still on the door, but I hadn't turned the handle yet. I stayed in the same position, my mind whirring with excuses. And when I heard a voice directly behind me, I almost jumped out of my skin.
"No, we don't have anything."
I spun round and found Michael standing about a foot away from me. Staring up at me with those large, brown eyes of his. The kid must have clambered over the garden wall while my back was turned. Must have done it without making a sound.
"Please, Paul? Just a super quick drink, and then I'll go back home. I won't even sit down, I promise."
I made a quick mental calculation in my head. Our back door opens straight into the kitchen, and I had orange juice in the fridge. Michael would probably be in and out in a couple of minutes. His mum might find it a little odd that he'd been inside the house if he told her — but wouldn't she find it just as odd if her new neighbour had refused her kid a drink when he asked?
I hesitated for a couple more seconds, then sighed. "Okay, go on, then. But you have to make it quick, okay? I really do want to go to bed soon."
Michael smiled up at me and nodded. I turned the handle and stepped inside.
*
"So you're a bit of a night owl, huh?"
"What does that mean?"
I opened the fridge and grabbed the orange juice. "It means someone who prefers it at night. You know, because you said you go on adventures — night fishing and stuff?" I moved to the drying rack by the sink and grabbed a glass.
"Oh, yeah. I'm definitely a night owl."
I started pouring juice into the glass. "Man, not me. Or at least I wasn't when I was your age. I used to be scared of the dark."
"You'll get used to it."
"Hm?"
"I said you get used to it. Once you spend enough time in it."
"Right."
I turned and handed the glass of orange juice to Michael. He took it from me and smiled. He moved the glass towards his mouth, then paused, watching me over the rim. "You know, my mum doesn't like me doing this any more."
"Doing what?"
"Going in to houses with strangers. Not after last time."
I stared down at the kid. He looked back up at me, the smile no longer on his face. Somewhere down in my stomach, I felt something uncomfortable squirm. "What do you mean, mate? What happened last time?"
Michael glanced over his shoulder at the closed back door. As if he was checking to make sure his mum wasn't there. He moved the glass of orange juice away from his mouth and placed it on the kitchen counter. Then he shrugged.
"Nothing, really. It's just that in the place we used to live, I made friends with this old man who lived a couple roads over from us. He invited me in for a drink, too. Only then he got weird."
Oh Jesus. I tried to keep my expression the same, but I was suddenly wishing I'd said no to the kid's drink request after all. This didn't sound good. Some old pervert in his last town had invited him in for a drink, and then he'd got weird. How was his mum going to feel about him being on his own in my house now, given that something bad had clearly happened in the last place they lived?
"He... got weird?" The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. I should have just sent the kid packing there and then, but I guess my curiosity got the better of me. Michael shuffled on the spot, staring back at me.
"Yeah, he wanted me to come down to the basement with him. Told me he had this really cool Lego collection, and I asked if I wanted to see it. He insisted I see it, even when I said I had to go."
My mouth suddenly felt dry. "So... did you go with him?"
Michael shook his head back and forth, hard. "No way. I ran back home. Mum told me I have to only go as far as the kitchen when I'm in strangers' houses."
I felt mild relief wash over me. Then I replayed what Michael had just said, and felt the relief being replaced with confusion. "Wait, how do you mean?" I asked. "Are you in strangers' houses a lot, then? Like friends of your mum's, and stuff?"
Michael opened his mouth, then closed it again. He turned and moved his hand back to the glass of orange juice on the kitchen side. But instead of picking it up he only prodded it with his finger, sliding it over the surface. When he looked back at me he carried on speaking as if he hadn't heard my question.
"Mum was really angry when she found out about the man. She made me promise I'd never, ever go back there."
"Did she tell anyone? About what that man said to you, I mean?"
"No way." Michael looked away from me again. There was a slight smile on his face, like he was in on some joke I wouldn't understand. "She did something way better than that."
"Oh yeah? What did she do?"
"She made him disappear."
I had my mouth open to ask another question when I realised what Michael had just said. The next thought I had was that I must have misheard him. "What did you say?"
"I said she made him disappear. I told you, night's the best time to hunt."
Michael fixed me with those brown eyes of his. Only right then they looked darker than brown. Almost black.
"I... I don't..." I tried to find words, but I was at a loss. Michael smiled up at me.
"It's funny," he said after a moment. "People think mum won't come in unless she's invited, but they've got the rules all wrong. As long as one of us has already been invited, then it's fine. She can come back with me any time she wants."
The kid smiled at me once more. "Don't worry, Paul. I'll tell her you were nice to me. Make sure she goes easy on you when you meet her. Thanks for the juice."
He turned away and pulled the back door open. I found my eyes wandering over to the glass of orange juice, my mind vaguely aware that he hadn't touched a drop of it. But when Michael spoke one more time, I turned back to him. He was framed in the open doorway, half lost in the night.
"It'll take some getting used to," he said, "but you won't be scared of the dark much longer."
Before I had a chance to reply, he'd melted into the shadows.
