Another oneshot I wrote about a boy who sees a mysterious figure out his bedroom window, and goes to investigate. I may continue it into a real story later.
He was out there again. Except maybe “he” was a “she.” It was hard to tell in the dark. Three nights in a row I’d looked down on to the street from my bedroom window and watched the shape standing there, almost hidden behind the tree that refused to
die. I got the feeling whoever they were, they were only a year or two older than me. The first night I’d just stared for a while and then got bored. The second, I’d opened the window to shout something, but there would been nothing to shout at. Tonight,
I was going to scramble downstairs and throw open the door. Really I was. Really.
After the sun set behind the houses across from me, the only light shining down the street emanating from a flickering streetlamp, I glanced out of the window once more. There it was… just standing there… motionless. I watched as it watched me; it was so dark: I couldn’t make out a single detail of its features. It was even more terrifying with no face.
I turned away from the window, leaving a patch of steam from my breath. This was it. I started to reach for the doorknob, but I stopped dead. My brain started yelling at me.
“What are you doing, you idiot?,” it told me frantically. “Danger!”
It echoed in my mind. But I pushed the thought aside. My curiosity got the better of me, making me reach the rest of the way towards the doorknob. I grasped the door’s cold handle and slowly turned it. I hesitated for only a moment, then I threw the door open to reveal the crisp autumn air. The figure was still there. I half expected it to have disappeared again, just as it had the night before. But it was still there, waiting, and watching me. It made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I
knew right then I shouldn’t have come outside, I shouldn’t have bothered to find out what the figure even was. But I couldn’t turn back; my legs wouldn’t move. They didn’t respond to any command I gave them to turn around and run. They just stood there – frozen and useless in my fear.
Finally, my quivering voice broke the silence. “Who are you?”
“We are curiosity,” said a small girl.
“We are fear,” rumbled the deep voice of a man.
“We are darkness,” whispered the voice of a woman.
“I am… death.” The voices replied in unison, unrecognizable to any gender or age, just pure terror, speaking aloud to me. Then my heart turned to ice as eyes black as coal, turned the world around me into darkness.
“It’s astounding,” said the news reporter live on the Channel 7 News. “This is the seventh time this month, as we show here that a person has been found outside his home… dead.”
Behind her, three men lifted a gurney with and body bag into their van.
“Another mystery that we hope to uncover.” For effect, the reporter walked over and touched the tree the where the boy was found – a sad and desolate gesture.
“Back to you, Phil.”
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