Chapter 1: The Inheritance of Fear

The moving truck's engine faded into the distance, leaving Alex and Tobi standing in front of their new home with nothing but cardboard boxes and the sweet promise of a fresh start. The two-story suburban house looked like something from a magazine—pristine white siding, a wraparound porch, and windows that caught the afternoon sunlight like welcoming eyes.

"I still can't believe we got this place for that price," Tobi said, his arm sliding around Alex's waist. At thirty-four, he still had that boyish enthusiasm that had first caught Alex's attention years ago. "There has to be a catch, right? Maybe the basement floods, or the neighbors are serial killers."

Alex adjusted his glasses and studied the house's facade. As a graphic designer, he had an eye for details that others missed, and something about the perfect symmetry felt almost too calculated. "Or maybe we just got lucky for once."

"Lucky?" Tobi grinned, his investigative journalist instincts already cataloging the neighborhood. "When have we ever been just lucky?"

They'd been together for eight years, married for three, and Alex had learned to recognize the signs. Tobi's curiosity was like a living thing, always hungry, always searching for the next story, the next mystery to unravel. It had made him an award-winning journalist, but it also meant he couldn't let sleeping dogs lie.

"Come on," Alex said, picking up the first box. "Let's see what we're working with inside."

The house was even more beautiful inside than out. Hardwood floors gleamed under crystal chandeliers, and large windows flooded each room with natural light. The kitchen was a dream—granite countertops, stainless steel appliances, and enough space for Alex to finally pursue his cooking hobby seriously.

"This is insane," Tobi said, running his hand along the marble island. "Houses like this don't just fall into normal people's price range. There's got to be a story here."

"Maybe the story is that we worked hard and saved money," Alex replied, though he had to admit the deal had seemed too good to be true. The previous owner had been eager to sell, almost desperate, and had accepted their below-market offer without negotiation.

They spent the afternoon hauling boxes and setting up the essentials. As evening approached, Alex was hanging his collection of plants in the living room when Tobi called out from upstairs.

"Alex! You need to see this."

The tone in his husband's voice made Alex's stomach clench. It wasn't excitement—it was something else entirely. He found Tobi standing in what would be their home office, staring at the far wall.

"What is it?" Alex asked, then saw what had captured Tobi's attention.

Mounted on the otherwise bare wall was a large calendar—not a typical store-bought one, but something that looked handmade. The paper was thick and yellowed, and the months were written in elegant script. But what made Alex's breath catch were the three dates circled in what looked like blood-red ink: February 6th, June 19th, and September 23rd.

Below each circled date, in the same crimson ink, were two words written in a shaky hand: "Don't Go Out."

"That's... weird," Alex said, moving closer. The ink had an odd texture, as if it had been applied with something other than a pen. "The previous owner must have forgotten it."

Tobi was already examining the calendar with the intensity he usually reserved for investigating corporate corruption. "Look at the dates, Alex. They're not random." He pulled out his phone and started typing. "February 6th was a Tuesday this year, June 19th is a Sunday, and September 23rd will be a Friday. No pattern in the days of the week, but..."

"But what?"

"The spacing." Tobi's eyes were bright with the thrill of discovery. "February to June is roughly four months, June to September is three months. It's like a countdown."

Alex felt a chill run down his spine. "A countdown to what?"

"That's what we need to find out." Tobi was already moving toward the door. "I'm going to talk to the neighbors, see what they know about the previous owner."

"Tobi, wait." Alex caught his arm. "Can we maybe get settled first? It's been a long day, and—"

"This will just take a few minutes. Come on, aren't you curious?"

Of course Alex was curious. But there was something about the calendar that made his skin crawl, something about the way the red ink seemed to shimmer in the fading daylight. "I guess we should introduce ourselves anyway."

They started with the house to their right, a modest ranch-style home with a well-maintained garden. A middle-aged woman answered the door—Mrs. Patterson, she introduced herself—with a smile that seemed painted on.

"Oh, you're the new neighbors!" she exclaimed, but her eyes kept darting past them toward their house. "How wonderful. We're so glad to have new people in the neighborhood."

"Thank you," Tobi said, turning on his considerable charm. "We're excited to be here. I'm curious about the previous owner—Mr. Hendricks, right? Did you know him well?"

Mrs. Patterson's smile never wavered, but something flickered behind her eyes. "Mr. Hendricks? Oh, he was... private. Kept to himself mostly."

"The realtor mentioned he'd lived there for quite a while," Alex added.

"Yes, yes. Quite a while." Mrs. Patterson's hands were fidgeting with her apron. "Such a shame he had to leave so suddenly."

"Suddenly?" Tobi leaned forward slightly. "Was there some kind of emergency?"

For just a moment, Mrs. Patterson's composure cracked. Her smile faltered, and Alex could have sworn he saw fear flash across her face. But then it was back, bright and artificial as stage lights.

"Oh, you know how it is. Sometimes people just need a change of scenery." She was already stepping back, preparing to close the door. "Well, welcome to the neighborhood! I'm sure you'll love it here."

The door shut with a soft but definitive click.

"That was strange," Alex said as they walked back to their house.

"Strange doesn't begin to cover it." Tobi was practically vibrating with journalist instincts. "Did you see how she reacted when I mentioned Hendricks? And that thing about leaving suddenly—the realtor told us he'd been planning to move for months."

They tried two more houses with similar results. Bright smiles, enthusiastic welcomes, and an almost aggressive refusal to discuss the previous owner. The last neighbor, an elderly man named Mr. Hudson, was watering his roses when they approached.

"Ah, the new folks," he said, his voice carrying a slight tremor. Unlike the others, his smile seemed genuine, if sad. "Beautiful evening, isn't it?"

"It is," Alex replied. "We're Alex and Tobi. Just moved in today."

"Jim Hudson. Lived here forty-two years." His eyes drifted toward their house, and his expression grew somber. "That's a fine house you've got there. Real fine house."

"Thank you," Tobi said. "We found an interesting calendar inside. Had some dates marked on it. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that?"

Mr. Hudson's watering can slipped from his hands, hitting the ground with a metallic clang. Water spread across the sidewalk as he stared at them with wide, frightened eyes.

"Calendar?" he whispered.

"Yes, with three dates circled in red ink, and a warning not to go out," Alex said gently.

The old man's face went pale. He looked around quickly, as if checking to see if anyone was watching, then leaned closer.

"You boys seem nice," he said, his voice barely audible. "Real nice. Maybe you should think about... about taking a vacation. Soon as possible."

"Mr. Hudson, what—"

But the old man was already hurrying toward his house, leaving his watering can behind. At his door, he paused and looked back at them one more time.

"February 6th," he said, and Alex's blood turned cold. "That's next week, isn't it?"

Then he disappeared inside, leaving them standing in the growing darkness.

Back in their house, Alex and Tobi sat in the living room surrounded by half-unpacked boxes, staring at each other in the lamplight.

"Okay," Alex said finally. "That was officially creepy."

"It's not creepy—it's fascinating." Tobi's eyes were bright with the thrill of a mystery. "Don't you see? Everyone knows something about that calendar, but they're all terrified to talk about it. The question is why."

Alex looked up at the ceiling, knowing the calendar was hanging just above them in the office. "Maybe some questions don't need answers."

"Every question needs an answer, Alex. That's how truth works."

"But what if the truth is something we don't want to know?"

Tobi moved closer and took Alex's hand. "Hey, look at me. We're in this together, okay? Whatever this is—some weird neighborhood superstition, a prank, whatever—we'll figure it out together."

Alex wanted to believe him. He wanted to dismiss the calendar as the quirk of an eccentric former owner and the neighbors' reactions as small-town paranoia. But as night fell around their new home, he couldn't shake the feeling that they'd stumbled into something much larger and more dangerous than either of them understood.

Outside, the wind picked up, rattling the windows. And somewhere in the walls of their beautiful new house, Alex could have sworn he heard something that sounded almost like whispering.

February 6th was five days away.