When Regina and I bought the old Victorian house on Maple Lane, we thought we’d found our forever home. The streets were lined with maple trees, the neighbors smiled sweetly, and everything felt like a dream. So naturally, we planned a warm, cozy housewarming party to meet everyone. But from the very first knock on the door, something felt… off. Our guests arrived smiling—but every single one of them was wearing the exact same thing: red gloves.
At first, we assumed it was a charming coincidence, maybe even some quirky neighborhood custom. But when we asked, no one gave a straight answer. Not even Mrs. Harper, the lovely widow from next door, who simply patted my hand and said, “Oh honey… you’ll understand soon enough.” Later that night, after the guests had gone, we found a note shoved under the front door. It read: “Welcome to the neighborhood. Don’t forget your red gloves. You’ll need them soon.” That’s when the unease really began.
Over the next few days, things only got stranger. Red chalk symbols began to appear on our front lawn. We heard soft whispers outside our bedroom window at night. One morning, we opened our door to find a small voodoo doll on our porch—wearing tiny red gloves. Regina wanted to call the police. I wanted to call a moving truck. Instead, we did the only thing we could think of—we invited everyone back for a community meeting and demanded answers.
To our shock, the room erupted with laughter. Mrs. Harper wiped a tear from her eye. “It’s tradition,” she said through her chuckles. “We pull this prank on every new couple. You passed the test.” Apparently, the red gloves were part of a long-running neighborhood joke meant to welcome newcomers with a little mystery and mischief. Weeks later, we got our playful revenge—planting fake insects and rubber worms at the next block dinner. That night, the laughter echoed down Maple Lane. And yes—we’ve kept our red gloves. Just in case the next new couple moves in.
