*The following story is fictional.
They all looked so calm and peaceful sleeping in their beds. How I hated them.
The streets had never been this empty. I wandered down the dimly lit sidewalk, tiptoeing over cracks and dips, careful to avoid the puddles of black water that collected in the more broken spots. I thought back to the others, sleeping and content in the boarding house. My face twisted into a scowl at the thought of their pleasant dreams. Why should they get to sleep so peacefully when I could not? The matron of the house insisted I see a doctor for my “irrational fear,” but I knew it wasn’t irrational. It was just hard to explain. She told me that no one would be able to get past the fence, let alone up to my window to look in. But I saw it- a pale, smiling face patiently watching me.
Turning a corner, I realized I did not exactly know where I was. Where I lived before we had always joked about 3 a.m. being the “witching hour,” the hour where it is least advisable to look under the bed, check the closet, or investigate the noise down the hall, as you would find things that should not be. Unholy things. Deadly things. Things people refuse to acknowledge despite seeing their fleeting shadows and hearing their movements in the dead of night. We joked, and I never fully believed, until I started seeing the shadows dance and the flicker of movement outside of my window when everything should be silent and still. At first, I still didn’t believe, but then I looked closely through the pane of glass, fearful of opening it for what may be waiting outside. I peered out and did not see him at first, just an unexpected whiteness. Then I refocused my eyes and found his. He was smiling at me, wide and manic, and in his eyes I did not see sanity but madness and excitement. The man outside was so pale, paler than I thought anyone could be. His powder white skin contrasted sharply the blackness of his bushy eyebrows and the pink of his gums. His teeth were a bleached white, clearly revealed as his lips were stretched thin to the point of nearly disappearing as he grinned. Darkness surrounded his vibrant blue eyes, eyes that seemed to be opened as wide as possible, staring back at me. He looked manic, out of his mind and ecstatic. I stood there in horror for a moment, unable to speak or scream, stuck in silent terror as he smiled back at me. He remained unblinking, unmoving on the other side of the thin glass pane. I finally managed to scream and fall back, waking the others. I told them what I saw and was told that I was making it up for attention. There were several mutters about my need for attention getting me thrown out of my last house. No matter how I protested and insisted, screaming and pleading for any of them to believe me, they would not. The matron had looked out the window and seen nothing, just the empty lawn and the black iron fence surrounding the property.
After a couple weeks I began to convince myself that I hadn’t seen anything; it was just my tired brain playing tricks on me. I stopped believing that when I woke up and saw a figure moving in the dark of the room. I looked around; no one else had stirred. Sitting up, I saw the movement again. There was a shadow cast against the open bedroom door – odd, as the door is normally shut and locked at night. I shifted and lightly placed my feet on the floor when the shadow began to change size, shrinking as the figure moved closer to the door. I froze when I saw the face of the shadow’s owner. He was pale and smiling, gazing directly at me. I couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. The man was dressed in a charcoal-colored suit, shoes shined to perfectly reflect light. His hair was slicked back, and his eyes were filled with insanity, just like the last time. I considered what I would use as a weapon should he try to come closer, realizing quickly that there was nothing of use nearby. In the fleeting moment that I scanned what was around me, the man had moved closer; he was now standing in the center of the room, our beds forming a circle around him. He continued to smile and stand in silence, just staring at me. Afraid to look away and find him coming even closer, I opened my mouth and let out a scream, jolting the others from their slumber. One of them yelled at me as they went to turn on the light. I looked away for a moment to follow their movement, and when I turned back to the center of the room, the man was gone. I tried to tell them what had happened, fighting their disbelief, when I felt a breeze against my skin. I turned and found his escape route: the very window I had first seen him through. I shouted and insisted that he had been here, had been in our room, had stood in the middle and watched me. Of course they did not believe me. I was told I would be punished for waking everyone and causing unnecessary panic. I would get the cold, dark solitary room with the rock hard mattress.
Naturally I could not sleep in the punishment room, so I snuck out, which brought me to the street I had never seen before. Taking in my surroundings, old falling-apart buildings, dim street lamps, cracked sidewalk and breaking street, I realized how utterly lost I was. Nothing looked familiar. Well, one thing did. His pale skin glowed under the flickering street lamp, and the ever-present smile on his face gleamed. The grin was different now though. It had an added element: hunger. Predation. He smiled at me and waited. I lowered my stolen umbrella and stood on the dilapidated sidewalk, unable to move. I knew what was coming. He stepped forward, taking inhumanly long strides, crossing the street in seconds. This time I could not scream, I could not cry for help or tell him to stop. I couldn’t run; I felt paralyzed and immobile, as though a tar pit had formed under my feet to seal me to that spot. The man reached me in seconds. Standing close enough for me to feel his body heat, he reached into his pocket. I closed my eyes, not wanting to see what he pulled out. My neck felt sharp for a moment, then wet. I slid to the ground, and opened my eyes to look at him one last time. He was still smiling, but his eyes had changed. Now instead of anger, I saw hatred. He hated me, despised me, reviled me so much he could not take true pleasure in what he had done. Staring up at the well dressed, pale man with the eternal smile and eyes full of insanity and loathing, I felt my body grow heavy. My vision started to fade, and a thought ran through my mind: I warned them. Now he’s got to find someone new, and he knew exactly where to go.
