It started out as a small bump on my wall, paler than the rest of the paint and oddly warm to the touch. I pokeed, prodded and even tried to pry it off with a small kitchen knife, only to hear a faint scream come from the other side of the wall as blood trickled down the cut I'd made.
It was organic, that much I could safely say. It was organic and it was bigger than the day before, in fact over the course of the next week or so it grew and grew and grew until it was undeniably a knee. A few dozen centimeters above it were the beginnings of yet more bumps with ridges along one side and a smoother surface on top.
A hand was coming.
Before the month was up the wall had developed one leg that appeared to be mid-step, perfectly still and receptive to both touch and temperature. Above it was most of one arm and half a hand. Beside it was the beginnings of the other leg and right above it all was a series of indents that I knew would end up being its face.
I managed to move out before then, forfeiting an unpleasant amount of cash to terminate the lease early but it was worth it to not see what would eventually break free from the wall and stumble into the rest of the bedroom, the house - the town.
The next person to move in vanished before the end of the week and while the guilt hits me like a suckerpunch every time I think about knowingly letting another person move into its path, I know the estate agents saw it when we were signing the paperwork and all they did was shrug.
They went missing two days ago so I don't doubt that I'll be next.
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