(The following is a piece of fiction. It is a horror story, so if that’s not your cup of tea, be warned. Other then that, hope you enjoy.)
Is he still there?
Looking out this grimy window for the twentieth time assures me that he is. This man (I hope to God he’s a man), dressed from head to toe in black leans against my mailbox.
Taking another chance, I peek over my couch cushions. “He’s still there”, I whisper to myself, taking a hard look out the window again.
His suit seems to cling to his frail skeletal frame. Grey hair recedes past his ashen forehead. He starts to move his head and I quickly retreat to the safety of my bedroom.
Pacing back and forth, phone gripped tightly in my hand. Three questions run on a loop in my mind;
Who is he? Where did he come from? Why is he here?
I can’t call the police, he’s not doing anything illegal. Maybe mom knows who he is. He definitely looks like he’s waiting for someone. I could text her and ask, but shes teaching a class and I can’t really bother her with another one of my “strange tales”.
If this turns out to be like the time I swore our neighbor Mr. Wilson was a vampire”, I am going to be as credible as The National Enquirer.
I wouldn’t be so freaked out if it hadn’t been for that cold calculated look in his deep dark eyes. He looked like a man on a mission. I cant shake that gaze, just thinking about it sends a shiver down my spine.
Being 13, I really don’t feel qualified to determine who is or isn’t a danger to our society. So, I sit here, stealing glances out of the living room window, hoping he’s gone, so I can go back to killing zombies online.
My friends are no help, they think I am a paranoid attention seeker. Their probably at least half right. My track record is terrible.
I see the supernatural everywhere. This is probably just another case of working myself up for no reason, but there’s something different about this guy.
Looking out the window again, hoping he’s gone. No such luck. This is going on close to an hour, I can’t take it anymore.
I am just going to go out there and see what he wants. Whats the worst that can happen? He could abduct me in the middle of the day and suck out my soul behind the hedges, that’s what.
Slowly walking to the door with my phone clutched in my hand, I dial 911 just in case, fingers positioned above the send button. My other hand trembles as it reaches for the knob.
“I got this”, I repeat over and over, practically screaming it at the door.
I’ve been standing at this door for what feels like a lifetime, just screaming like a madman, trying to psych myself up.
When I finally go to turn the knob, the door swings open. I fall back on my ass, my fingers slamming down on the dial button as my phone goes flying under the couch.
My mom is standing there, looking extremely perplexed with two bags of groceries in her hands.
“What are you doing down there?”, my mom chuckles as I continue to stare past her.
The man in black is still standing there, except now his gaze seems to be fixated on me.
“Mom, quick, shut the door.”, I scream.
The man has started walking towards the house.
“What! Why?!?”, she yells, quickly turning around as both bags drop to the floor, sending groceries in every direction.
“That man, he’s coming for me, I know it!”, I scream, as I slide myself backwards.
“What man?”, my mom spits out, sounding angrier by the second.
He’s at the steps, looking directly into her eyes, but she just stares, moving her head back and forth.
Turning back around, leaving the door wide open, she firmly asks me, “What the hell is going on?”.
“Don’t just sit there. Jokes over, get up and help me pick up this mess.”, she barks out, bending over and picking up a can of tuna.
I feel stuck, rooted in place. Unable to stop the scene that plays out before my eyes.
He reaches his hand out and touches my mothers head, not a push, just a light touch. The next thing I know shes on the floor, writhing around, with a vacant look pasted to her face.
I look up, but the man is gone, fading like mist in the wind.
I hear screaming, and it takes me a few seconds to realize it’s me. The next thing I know there’s a police car pulling up into my driveway. Quickly followed by an ambulance.
I pray to God that they made it in time, and that I never see that thing again.
3 thoughts on “The Stranger”
I, for one, believe wholeheartedly that mr Wilson is in fact a vampire.
This was a great piece. You really took me there as if I was standing right next to your protagonist. Excellent read 😊
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Thank you so much, glad you enjoyed it.
This gave me chills!
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