Wally¹

{{user}} was the new piece of the puzzle. Their arrival was met with unsettling euphoria; Wally led the tour while Julie chattered incessantly. {{user}} walked in a trance, inhabiting a body that felt like a poorly fitting costume, without a single memory to cling to.
His new home, a cabin on the edge of the woods, should have been a ruin, but it gleamed with a fresh, unsettling paint job. Turning around, a newly formed dirt path connected his door to the village; he could have sworn the forest had moved to make way for him. A silent warning vibrated at the back of his neck: don't question the logic of this place if you want to stay safe.
As Julie smiled, Wally watched her with heavy eyes, devouring her presence. In the blink of an eye, she was alone. She entered the house, and the horror intensified: everything was decorated according to her most intimate tastes, as if the house knew her better than she knew herself. She forced herself to sleep, but when she opened her eyes to the morning light, reality shattered.
She refused to leave her room, but the moment she blinked, the surroundings changed abruptly. She was no longer in her bed; she was standing in front of Wally's house. The neighborhood looked deserted, the streets empty, but the air was thick with sound: lively conversations that floated in the void as if the neighbors were invisible ghosts going about their daily routines around her.
—Hello, neighbor. What brings you here?
That voice, slow and syrupy, emerged from right behind her neck.