You'd stumbled upon Fifth street by accident. 

You had just fled your last home, and had been driving around, trying to find a place to stay. After having drove for what felt like hours, you found yourself on Fifth street. 

Looking around, as you drove slowly, you found a old looking motel and checked in. 

Having saved a lot of money in preparation for leaving, you could thankfully afford the (admittedly quite cheap) cost of staying there for the night. 

When morning rolled about, you went searching for a job. 

Despite the large street, there weren't many people out, and the few people that were out scurried from place to place quickly you noticed. 

You stumbled upon a grocery store, almost walking right past it before you noticed it was there. 

The manager gave you the job of clerk without even asking to see your resume, which was odd, but you needed a job so you were grateful for it. 

Your manager asked you where you were staying, and offered help you find a place to stay when he heard you were staying at the hotel. 

He managed to find you a nice townhouse, that was owned by his aunt, and helped you move in. 

The house looked old, but it was yours. You liked it. 

When you went out exploring the next day, you met Frank. 

Frank offered you a cigarette, when you declined, he lit it for himself. 

When you told him you were planning on staying he just laughed, telling you not to bother, that the town wasn't worth staying permanently. 

You didn't understand why he thought so, and went on your way. 

While exploring, you found an old library. 

You asked around, trying to find out if it was open. 

The first person you asked told you to stay out of the library, the second person agreeing with her. 

No one told you if it was open or not, so you ignored their warnings and tried to go in. 

You regretted it. 

The library was full with books, but they were rotten, oozing a green slime you didn't care to figure out what was. 

There was a figure behind the desk, but it was only a mannequin. 

You couldn't leave the library fast enough. 

At your afternoon shift at the grocery store, you learnt quickly there weren't many people on Fifth street, no more than maybe a dozen customers coming into the store. 

It was boring, but you were being pretty much just being paid to sit there, so you didn't complain. 

When you returned to your townhouse for the night, you noticed the water had a reddish tint. 

You ignored that. 

At night, there was a knock on your window. 

You looked over, but there wasn't even a tree there, although you did notice a mannequin that looked quite similar to the one you saw at the library in the opposing townhouse. 

You shuddered, remembering the library, and did your best to return to sleep. 

When morning rolled around, you had managed to get a few hours of sleep in, although it felt as if everytime you shut your eyes, the mannequin would come just a little bit closer. 

It was probably just a trick of your imagination you thought, looking into the window again in the morning, not noticing a mannequin in the room. 

Just a stressful night, and you were tired you tried to convince yourself. 

You went to work, and did your best to focus on the radio, trying to find a good station, but the only one that worked seemed to only report on the weather, and play the same old song you remembered vaguely from somewhere you couldn't quite remember. 

Every time you tried to change it, the station warned of rain. 

The town was dry, and you hadn't seen a cloud in the sky. You wondered why it warned of rain. 

You went to bed that night, and again, just like the previous night, the mannequin appeared to get closer every time you shut your eyes. 

You didn't get much sleep that night. 

The streets looked almost as if they had veins running through them, with the amount of cracks in them you thought, as you walked to work, sleep deprived. 

When you went out again after your shift you stumbled upon a church with its windows broken. 

They were broken by a strong wind, the priest said. 

The air had been stagnant the whole time you had been there. You hadn't felt so much as a tiny breeze against your skin since you had arrived there. 

You nodded, smiling, and went to cook yourself dinner. 

Fifth street was odd you thought, eating your pink-ish rice, and your stew. 

The mannequin looked like it was almost outside your window when you went to bed. 

You didn't sleep very much. 

The next day, you went about your normal day, but rather than explore, you tried to drive out of Fifth street. 

You couldn't find an exit, the street looked as if it were looping, but that couldn't be true, it looked straight when you walked on it. 

You drove back. 

The mannequin was inside your room when you went to bed. 

It's a hallucination you thought, trapped in your bed, paralyzed with fear, barely blinking. 

You didn't take your eyes off of it, but when you woke up (when did you fall asleep?) It was gone. 

The manager told you goodbye when you left the store. 

Frank offered you another cigarette (you declined again), and the priest asked you to let him pray for you. 

You allowed him to. 

As you walked home, the air seemed heavy, almost like a blanket. 

You got in bed.

There were no records of you being on Fifth street when the sun rose again.