I was saddened to see my next door neighbors go. I watched from my window as they loaded their trunk with green and red suitcases. I watched until I couldn’t see their black sedan anymore.

That was 2 months ago. Now, I watched as the new neighbors moved in next door. A family of four. When I first saw them, they seemed normal. Harmless. The men wore sweater vests and the women wore button up blouses. They appeared to be your typical American family. Husband, wife, son and daughter. So I decided to introduce myself to them.

“Hi, I’m Harriet, I live next door” I said with a cheery smile and a gentle wave. “Do you guys need any help with anything?”

The man and the woman exchange glances, before the wife turns her focus back to me. She smiles brightly and nods her head, handing me a vase from the trunk. “If you wouldn’t mind setting this on the dining room table?”

“Of course” I reply kindly, gently grabbing the vase from her old delicate hands. I slowly and carefully walked into the house, and set the vase down in the middle, before returning outside to help the family move the rest of their belongings inside.

“We’d like to have you for dinner” the woman says with a warm smile.

“Oh, that’s really not necessary” I laugh awkwardly, brushing the seemingly harmless idea off. “But thank you” I add as I head to the door.

The man kicks the door shut, locking it behind him before stepping in front of it, blocking my way out. I could tell by the look in his eyes, that I wasn’t going home. Then everything went black.

When I woke up, I realized that I couldn’t move, almost as if I was strapped down somewhere. When my vision came back into focus , I saw the family sitting around the table, each holding a knife and a fork. I scanned the area for any sign of food, before it dawned on me.

“We’d like to have you for dinner” wasn’t an invitation to share a meal with them. I was the meal.