Don't Look For Me

He's there again...

That same figure, every night, just outside my bedroom window.

He doesn't do anything, he just... stands there, by the street lamp.

When I first saw him, I panicked, I called the police. I watched as the squadcar just rolled past him, without even a sign of stopping. I didn't sleep that night. I didn't sleep well at all for the next two weeks. I kept feeling his icy stare on the nape of my neck. I moved my bed around, I slept on the couch, I even blocked the window. I still felt his stare. One night, I must've been able to sleep because I was woken by the door shaking as if he was trying to get in. I rushed through the peephole. No one. I went to the window, there he was, unmoving, and in the same position.

Now he stands by the street lamp again. No... Something's wrong. He's gone...

I can't get to the door fast enough. I look through the peephole, he's not there either. I slowly slide back the bolt of the door lock, and gently open the door. I start walking down the hall of my apartment, taking care around any corners to not be surprised if by him. I reach the door to the outside and look through the frosted glass of the sidelight.

He's still gone... I should be elated, I should run back to my apartment screaming and hollering in celebration but no. Something is wrong.

Against my best judgment, I will my body to move towards that all too familiar streetlamp. I reach the lamppost and look down both ways of the street.

Nothing. Not a soul.

I turn back around and freeze. A chill runs down my spine. My hair stands on its ends and my stomach feels like a swallowed a bag of cement.

He's inside my home.

I watch him move around at blinding speeds, barely a blur passing around my apartment. He pauses to look at me occasionally, staring out the same window I watched him through.

Suddenly, he blocks the window with something. I remember my legs below me and on some primal instinct, I run back to my apartment door. I try to open my door. It's locked. I rattle against the door hoping to break the lock to no avail.

With nothing left to do, I return to the streetlamp outside. Maybe he'll leave and I'll be able to get back inside. I stand and watch him through the window.

A sound breaks the silence, a grating sound, like rebar scraping against concrete. I look towards the sound, a thing walks towards me. Its large hands drag against the ground, the mottled nails scratching against the sidewalk. Its human-like head is turned unnaturally against its shoulder.

I dared not to study its face as my legs moved almost on their own accord towards my apartment seeking safety even if my home was still occupied.

I slam open the apartment entrance, I don't know if I'm screaming or not. I can't hear anything beyond the sound of my racing heartbeat.

I see my door and reach for the handle. My legs are pulled out from under me as my fingers brush against the brass knob, I'm too late. It has me. One of its massive hands wrapped around my thigh. Its arms stretched impossibly long slowly retracts in pulling me closer to it.

As I grow closer to this thing, its mouth stretching to swallow me, I come to a realization.

I look towards my door.

Don't open the door.

Don't go outside.

I hear the bolt slide back.

Stop! Please! Stay inside!

I scream out as I feel my shins scrape against rows of teeth.

Don't open the door!

Don't look for me! Please!

The last thing I hear is the turn of the brass doorknob and the creak of the hinges.

Please... Don't look for me.