Chapter 3: The plastic house

A jingle played faintly in the air, looping endlessly.

“He’s your neighbor, he’s your friend,  

 Mr. Sweetheart to the end!”

You stepped onto the sidewalk, heart pounding.

Then—bump.

A woman in a yellow dress turned with a wide smile. Her watering can spilled slightly as she looked up.

Her skin looked smooth—like vinyl. Her eyes were round and glassy. Her name tag flickered, unreadable.

You took a step back. “Um… hi. What’s your name?”

The woman beamed.

“Well hi, new neighbor! My name is Mrs. Bell. What’s yours?”

You hesitated. “I’m… Y/N. Where are we?”

Mrs. Bell tilted her head, smile still fixed.

 “What do you mean, new neighbor?” she asked, voice light but sharp.  

 “We were expecting you. You told us you came to this neighborhood because you had nowhere else to go.”

She leaned in slightly, eyes wide and unblinking.

 “Are you okay?”

Your breath caught. “I never said that. I just got here. I think I’m going mad. What is this place?”

Mrs. Bell clapped her hands together, the sound hollow and sharp.

 “Why, you’re in Farmeville, of course!”

She handed you a folded paper. It was a map of the neighborhood.  

Every house was labeled—neat, cheerful names.  

Except one.

The house at the end of the lane.  

The one with red curtains.  

No name. Just a star.

You folded the map and slipped it into your  pocket.

“Okay,” you said slowly. “I guess I’ll… look around.”

You took a few cautious steps down the sidewalk. The air smelled like bubblegum and warm plastic. The trees didn’t rustle. The sun didn’t move.

Mrs. Bell’s smile twitched.

 “Oh, don’t wander too far,” she said sweetly. “And definitely not too near the house with the red curtains. That one’s… special.”

You paused. “Why?”

Mrs. Bell tilted her head, watering the can still in hand. “Oh, no reason! Just neighborhood rules. You’ll learn them soon.”

She stepped closer, voice lowering into a singsong hum.

 “Mr. Sweetheart is a very cool person,” she said.  

 “He has very fluffy pink curly hair, white skin like porcelain, and blue eyes like the sky—but softer. Like baby blue.”

You blinked. “Why are you telling me this?”

Mrs. Bell giggled, the sound sharp and hollow.

 “Because you’ll meet him soon, silly! Everyone does eventually.”

Your stomach turned. The jingle overhead looped again.

“He’s your neighbor, he’s your friend,  

 Mr. Sweetheart to the end!”

They looked down the lane. The house with the red curtains sat quietly at the far end. No name. Just a golden star.

You took a step toward it.

Mrs. Bell’s smile faded.

“I said not too near.”

Mrs. Bell’s watering can tipped slightly as she turned toward the sound of a distant voice.

“Oh! That’s Mr. Bunny calling,” she said, voice bright but strained.  

 “He’s always needing help with his garden. Such a handful.”

She leaned in one last time, her vinyl smile stretched tight.

“Remember, don’t wander too far. And don’t go too near.”

Then she walked off, heels clicking like plastic on pavement.

You watched her disappear around the bend.

The neighborhood was quiet again. Too quiet.

You turned toward the house with the red curtains—the one marked only by a golden star. It sat at the end of the lane, slightly crooked, slightly darker than the rest. The curtains didn’t sway. The windows didn’t blink.

You stepped closer.

End of chapter 3

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