I live next to an ancient Wizard.

You know the type. All old and wrinkly, at first glance not worth more then a bucket of nothing. They fade in and out of your perception; you wander sometimes if there is even someone there at all. That's a glamour. I tend to imagine it’s like putting on a gray shroud that makes you unnoticeable by all others. That’s the way my neighbor is. We’ve lived next to him for months now, but haven’t seen him more then a dozen times.
When we do see him, he comments on the weather rather hurriedly, as if at any moment that weather might change and dash to pieces what he’s just said. I think his name might be Gerry, but I’m not even sure how I know that.
He lives in one of three apartments in this building. The building is one of those rushed; lop sided jobs that you can actually see “settling”. The main floor takes up the entire first floor and basement, and even includes two porches, front and back.
The Wizard’s apartment is slightly larger then our own, or slightly smaller, depending upon the time of day. If you walk around the outside from the East corner of the house to the top of the stairs, you would estimate the distance at around fifteen feet. Yet when you enter the hallway, you would swear that it’s about fifteen feet from the bottom of the steps to the Wizard’s front door. But if that were true, then that door would have to open up onto the East side of the house, which it clearly does not, as the East side of the house has two small windows set far to the right and left respectively.
I once read a book that involved this same phenomenon; it was called House of Leaves, and was written by a man named Mark Z. Danielewski . If you get a chance, check it out, I doubt that you’ll finish it, but it’s a great trip into what I call experimental reading/writing. At any rate, in the book they deal with a closet door that mysteriously appeared one day when the family was away. The door lead into a closet, which eventually was a hallway, which eventually became a giant winding stairs complete with unknown Lovecraftian entities lurking in the darkness. Our next door neighbor, Grant (I think that’s his name) is a Wizard, and the occultic activities that he’s been initiating are having a direct physical (or metaphysical as the case may be) effect on our house.
Our downstairs neighbor stopped us one day about a month ago and asked what religion we were. The old lady said she didn’t ride that train, and then said that I was a Witch. He said he already knew that I was a Witch. That was when my interest was sparked and I joined the conversation. He said that we were conducting “occultic activities” upstairs and that it was affecting his household. His household consisted of himself, a single 20-something dad, his two kids and a pit bull named Dakota. He further explained that his spiritual awareness came from his prior experience with the Church of Satan, and there was some insinuation made that Witchcraft and Satanism were in someway similar.
I won’t go into detail at this point on what words were exchanged. Having Satanism compared to Witchcraft is a gut punch to the bread basket of my spiritual self, so I was upset, and when I’m upset I tend to say things that I wouldn’t ordinarily mean. I said those things and more. I made insinuation that it was his family that was causing the spiritual anomalies (which he never specified outside of it being some sort of negativity that he and his children could “feel”), and that he should look in that direction for the culprit of these imagined occurrences.
In retrospect I feel bad for jumping down the guy’s throat, but he said the wrong thing, and I reacted in the wrong way. I hate talking to my neighbors anyways.
I now know what was going on then, and what is quickly escalating now. Gary the next door Wizard has created some sort of spacial anomaly in his apartment and it’s beginning to warp and stretch the fabric of reality. I don’t know what he’s got over there, but it’s not just his lazy boy and an old black & White. You can literally feel the pressure through the walls. Whatever he’s got in place to contain what he’s working with is just barely doing its job. Either that or what he’s working with is so substantial that conventional circle protection just isn’t adequate enough.
That is why I think he’s an ancient Wizard, and not just some long lived fairy folk. The guy radiates and aura that is set to kill. Inadvertently fuck with that guy, and your day is going to take a dramatic turn for the worse.
My hypothesis is this, that Grendel my next door neighbor who happens to be a Wizard and is more then likely older then time itself, has created a workspace to craft his spells and design his rituals. This workspace may be on another world, in another dimension or simply an idea that has been given shape via the Wizard Garrett’s considerable talents as a wizard of the Multiverse. I have no doubt now that the man is walker between the worlds, a traveler of the outer skirts of reality. Walking into his apartment is a matter of decision for this very ancient man. If he chose to, he would undoubtedly be able to walk “into” any portion of reality that he wanted.
I’ve estimated that the bulk of the energy is centered around what would be his living room, which is directly opposite our own. You can feel the nothingness of it. The paradoxical nature of something being there and not being there is almost tangible enough you feel you could reach out and touch it.
He also makes the most amazing smelling food. The only time that I ever hear noise is when something is cooking in his kitchen. I suspect he uses a Golem for most of the domestic jobs.