FLESH

The bell rang once.

Not loud. Not urgent. Just enough to pull Stella from the thin quiet of the house.

She looked up from where she sat by the window, a book resting open in her lap, unread. For a moment, she didn’t move. The sound felt… misplaced. Like it didn’t belong to the afternoon.

The bell rang again.

Stella stood this time, slow and hesitant, her eyes drifting toward the door as though it might answer her first.

No one visited.

Not here. Not anymore.

The hallway felt colder than it should as she walked through it, her steps soft against the wooden floor. The house had a way of holding silence too tightly, like it was afraid to let it go.

She reached the door and paused.

Then opened it.

No one was there.

Just the street stretching ahead in that dull, washed-out light of late afternoon. The kind of light that made everything look faded—like a photograph left too long in the sun.

Stella stepped outside, her gaze shifting slowly from one side of the street to the other.

Empty.

The houses stood in their neat rows, quiet and watchful. Paint peeled from a few of them. Curtains drawn too tightly in others. It hadn’t always felt like this.

There used to be more people.

She knew that much.

She just couldn’t remember when it changed.

A movement caught her eye.

Across the street.

A man.

He was standing near Mrs. Hale’s front yard, bending slightly as he helped her carry a box inside. His movements were calm, careful—almost practiced. Like he had done this many times before.

Stella watched him.

Everyone knew him.

Or at least, everyone seemed to.

He was always there—helping, fixing, carrying, offering that same quiet presence that people seemed to trust without question.

He turned slightly, and for a brief moment, Stella saw his face.

He was smiling.

It should have looked kind.

It should have looked warm.

But something about it didn’t reach his eyes.

His eyes—

Stella frowned slightly, trying to place what felt wrong. They weren’t cold. They weren’t angry.

Just… still.

Too still.

Like nothing behind them moved at all.

Her fingers tightened slightly around the edge of the door.

For a second—just a second—it felt like he was looking at her.

She stepped back immediately, her breath catching in a way she couldn’t explain.

“That’s stupid,” she muttered under her breath.

Of course he wasn’t looking at her.

She was overthinking. She always did.

People trusted him.

People liked him.

And he helped.

That should have been enough.

Stella glanced back once more, but he had already turned away, disappearing into the house across the street.

The moment passed.

Just like that.

She exhaled slowly, shaking her head as if to clear it, and stepped back inside. The door closed with a soft click behind her, sealing the quiet back into place.

Still—

Something lingered.

A thought she couldn’t quite push away.

She moved to her room, grabbing her jacket without thinking too much about it. Staying inside felt heavier than usual.

A walk would help.

It always did.

But as she stepped out again, locking the door behind her this time, her gaze drifted—almost unwillingly—back across the street.

The house was quiet now.

Too quiet.

Her chest tightened faintly.

There used to be more people here.

She was sure of it.

Thirty

The number surfaced in her mind without warning.

Now—

Stella’s eyes moved slowly down the street.

Counting without meaning to.

One.

Two.

Three…

The spaces between houses felt wider than they should.

Or maybe it was just the silence stretching too far.

Fifteen

Only fifteen

Her steps slowed.

The thought settled deeper this time, heavier.

People didn’t just disappear.

Not like that.

Not without noise.

Not without someone noticing.

Stella’s gaze lifted again, instinctively searching the street.

Empty.

But not quite.

Because even when no one was there—

It still felt like something was watching.

And for the first time, Stella didn’t try to ignore it.

She started walking anyway.

But the feeling followed..