The first knock on the door seemed innocent enough. But as more neighbors arrived at our housewarming party, the night took a strange turn. Every single one of them was wearing identical red gloves, as if they were hiding something in plain sight.
My wife, Regina, and I were thrilled to have moved into our dream home—a beautiful Victorian villa in a picturesque neighborhood with tree-lined streets and friendly faces. Everything seemed perfect. We planned the party to get to know our new neighbors and celebrate this new chapter in our lives.
At first, everything was going smoothly. Our house buzzed with laughter and lively conversations. Mrs. Harper, one of our elderly neighbors, was among the first to welcome us. “You’re going to love living here,” she said, smiling with a mysterious glint in her eye.

As the evening progressed, I started to notice something odd. Every neighbor was wearing red gloves, all in the same shade. With the warmth of the crowded house, it was strange that no one took them off—not even to eat or drink. I mentioned it to Regina, who found it peculiar as well, but we decided to brush it off for the moment.
Curiosity eventually got the better of me. I approached Mrs. Harper, who was standing near the snack table. “Those gloves are interesting. Is there a special reason for wearing them?”
She hesitated, casting a nervous glance around. “Oh, dear, you’ll understand soon enough,” she replied before quickly changing the subject.
Later, after the guests had left, while we were cleaning up, Regina found a note tucked under the door. Her face paled as she read it aloud:
“Welcome to the neighborhood. Don’t forget your red gloves. You’ll need them soon.”
We laughed it off, thinking it might be a harmless prank. But over the following days, unsettling things began to happen. Footsteps could be heard outside our windows at night. Tools disappeared from the garden and reappeared in strange places. One morning, we found symbols etched into the soil around the house.
The tipping point came when Regina called me to the backyard. “Gabby, look at this,” she said, her voice trembling. In the dirt, there was a crude drawing of a hand with long, thin fingers.
The next day, I decided to confront Mrs. Harper. She seemed hesitant but eventually explained: “The red gloves are protection against the Hand of the Forgotten, a spirit that haunts this neighborhood. Everyone wears them to stay safe.”
I laughed, thinking it was just a local superstition. Regina and I chose not to take it seriously, but the strange occurrences continued. One day, we found a creepy doll with red gloves on our porch. That was enough for us to call a meeting with the neighbors.
During the meeting, the truth finally came out. Mrs. Harper, with an amused smile, revealed that it was all part of an elaborate neighborhood prank. “It’s our way of welcoming new neighbors,” she explained.
Despite the initial scare, Regina and I couldn’t help but laugh. We felt relieved and, at the same time, embraced by a community that clearly knew how to have fun.
A few weeks later, we organized a thank-you dinner and decided to return the favor. We planted realistic fake insects throughout the house, eliciting laughter and startled reactions from the neighbors.
That evening, as the last guests were leaving, Mrs. Harper smiled at us. “You two are a perfect fit here,” she said.
Regina hugged me, sighing with relief. “I think we’re going to be very happy here.”
And so, we began to feel truly at home, surrounded by a peculiar but warm-hearted community. In the end, even the strangest traditions can be the start of great friendships.