! written by u/chris_bryant_writer on 2017-06-29

The neighbors were weird.

It started with their house, which appeared as if overnight. It was an awful contraption of two stories with unfinished roof and walls.

But my wife told me not to judge--maybe they were still finishing construction. But a week passed and it seemed as if nothing was being added.

Movers came and went, and it was clear they were buying furniture and putting it in their home. Their unfinished, strange parody of a home.

But one day, after returning from work, my wife forced me to meet them.

"We need to welcome them to the neighborhood," she had said.

"But they don't look like they belong," I complained. Maybe harshly, because my wife gave me a look that said I was going over to meet them whether I like it or not.

And so we met them.

They were the Warriors. Stanley Warrior and Molly Warrior. Strange names--until I found out the husband worked for the military. And then I found out the wife worked for the military as well.

My wife gave me a look that said i shouldn't have judged them so readily and a part of me was torn. I was always taught to respect those who served. But at the same time, the Warriors were weird.

But they acted normal enough--even if it felt off somehow. they called us occasionally. We went over a few times. We talked and ate like friends. But it was always in spurts.

For a month they'd be as friendly as can be. And then the next week, gone, totally missing from life, as if they'd disappeared.

They certainly didn't return our calls.

And then one day, I heard the husband had gotten promoted--to a General. It was impressive and we went over to congratulate them.

But the house was dark.

And it stayed dark for weeks and weeks.

And then it began.

I came home from work, and I found something strange about the house. The walls had been moved, doors had been taken out. Furniture gone.

When I got inside, I dropped my briefcase. The entire living room was gone. Replaced by a bed, and exercise set, and an easel.

That's when I felt the first urge. I had no idea what it was, but I had a sudden desire to paint. And so I sat at the easel and painted.

I had no idea where the materials came from. I had no idea when I had bought painting supplies. A part of me was angry at my wife for doing all of this. A part of me thinks she hadn't done it.

As I painted , I heard the shower start. It had to be my wife. I got up, and then the force pulled me back, and I began to paint again.

The shower stopped. Then started again.

What was happening? This force, what was it? Why was I so compelled to paint now?

I sat there until I had finished four paintings, all the while, the shower turning off, then on.

When I finished the last painting, the force seemed to have lifted, and I rushed to the bathroom. Inside, I found a scene that horrified me.

The bathroom had been remodeled as well. The toilet had been removed as well as the sink. The shower had been pulled from the wall and place in the center of the room. My mind said the water shouldn't have worked, and yet it did.

On the floor, I noticed puddles, and the sharp scent of urine filled my nose. My wife was inside the shower, sobbing.

"What the fuck is happening?" I asked.

"I don't know," she said through sobs. "I just keep taking showers, I can't stop. I get out and then get back in, and when I have to go..."

My wife seemed like she was on the verge of breakdown. I moved closer to try and comfort her. The water stopped, and then she stepped out.

I tried to give her a hug, but then I felt an urge, and the force began to pull me away.

"What's happening?" I asked, hushed, as the force drew the two of us out of the bathroom and into the living room.

My wife was crying now, and soaking. She dragged a trail of water behind her. And then, she cried out, "I feel like I want to be in the bed. Matt, stop me, stop it!"

But I couldn't do anything, because I too had the urge to be in the bed. I stripped and got under the covers. I could feel the damp in the sheets from the showers my wife had taken.

I felt the urge to have sex with her.

What depravity was this?

"I'm sorry, I can't help myself," I said, the urge forcing me into the act. Neither of us enjoyed it. My wife cried, I wish I could have cried.

What was happening to us?

The sun was setting as we finished. We were tired, panting and feeling the ache of all the strange happenings. I felt hungry, I could only imagine my wife felt it as well.

I got up to try and get something to eat and then I discovered a horror I hadn't noticed while we were in bed.

Someone had built a wall around us. There was no doorway. Nothing.

I banged my fist against the wall. I screamed.