Prompt by u/mattmaster68:
There are people that steal valuables from graves and homes, but that’s not you. Instead, you like breaking in then adding/moving things without anyone knowing.
Lisa had just come back from a lovely weekend trip, when she noticed she hadn’t locked the door before leaving. The door opened easily, without her even putting her key in the lock. It was late, the house was dark and cold. It would have been very nice to have a heavy bat on her then.
She slipped into the house, but left the door momentarily open in case she’d need to make a quick escape. She held her breath and listened for any sign of movement. Nothing. She flipped a switch and the hallway was bathed in light. Nothing wrong there.
She started to calm down a little. She dropped her bags on the floor and moved further into the house. She turned on the light in the living room.
Dozens of gleaming black eyes stared at her. Her heart stopped.
She almost screamed, but then she got a better look at the eyes and let out a relieved, if slightly hysterical laugh. Garden gnomes. They were just garden gnomes.
Three of them stood on the table, six or so were sprawled on the couch and sofa’s. A lot more were placed all around the room. On the floor, on the shelves, on the window sill. There was even one attached to her curtains!
How did this-? Oh, of course. The door. But who would do something like this? Had they stolen anything? The television was still there, and the radio. On first glance, the only thing that had changed from before she left were the gnomes.
Lisa swallowed, her throat felt dry. Someone far more malicious than this gnome weirdo could have easily entered her house. She needed a glass of water.
In the kitchen, a few dozen more gnomes watched her. On the counter, on the dinner table, on top the backrests of the chairs. She opened her tableware cupboard and had to push a gnome aside to grab a glass.
With her water, she went back to the hallway. The gnomes were freaking her out. Their little beady eyes seemed to follow her wherever she went. She plopped next to her bags. Here she was safe from their gazes. Or not.
In the picture frames hanging on the walls, usually filled with pictures of herself, her family and her friends, were more fucking gnomes. Pictures of gnomes mowing the garden. Pictures of gnomes sitting on swings.
She hastily stood up and moved upstairs. Surely, whoever did this would have left her bed alone? She stepped inside.
Her glass shattered.
There, in the corner of her room, stood a gnome. No, not a gnome, *The* gnome. It was enormous. It’s pointy hat reached almost all the way to the ceiling. Glowing eyes stared at her. A deep echoing voice shouted, “Always lock your door!”