He

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Thrillers  |  House: Booksie Classic
Sometimes our fears are closer to us than we think.

Submitted: October 11, 2015

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Submitted: October 11, 2015

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He always stares. Utterly dead behind the eyes, with hideous features overgrowing on his scarred, frostbitten skin. I hate the way he stares. With just a slight movement of his hypnotic eyes, he can read anything my mind speaks in an instant. I know he can.

Cautiously placing my numbing feet on one sturdy, concrete step per every couple of seconds, I dubiously headed into a painfully overcrowded town centre lit by only streetlights and Christmas decorations. I prefer to leave the decaying comfort of my own home when the day is turning into night. He tends to visit my home at night, which makes the outdoors more welcoming. It’s harder for me to see him when I am surrounded by mostly other bodies and natural darkness. Catching the light of the seasonal decorations still made my body as tense as before. I knew he was close.

Towering over my vulnerable self, an artificial monstrosity being strangled by tiny, white lights stood. The lights hyperactively flashed on and off in a way that made it hard to tell if they were functioning correctly. I put all of my efforts into avoiding only the metallic, reflective spheres which hung lifelessly on the replica of a Christmas tree. The solid coloured ones didn’t cause me any distress. The baubles seemed to increase in population the more I struggled to look away from the embodiment of long-lost festive tradition which blocked my pathway.

He was there.

No force had the ability to take my sore, irritable eyes off of his still, cadaverous face. Now that my skeletal body was no longer scuttling along the ruinous roads, the slight warmth I felt seconds ago began to abandon me. My rawboned fingers began to twitch and crack like twigs being torn off of a felled tree. The image in front of me seemed to be fading to blackness as my leucous eyelashes began to engulf my eyes. A sudden warmth hit me, breaking the hypnosis I seemed to have put myself under. It was a human touch, reminding me of my insignificance. An agitated last minute shopper who subconsciously bumped into me in an urge to buy an evidently limited item for a loved one. I uttered an unintelligible apology under my breath but the shopper was out of hearing distance by then. I thought of thanking her. She broke my gaze.

At this point, my mind was slowly beginning to welcome in other thoughts, besides the thought of him. I took a cowardly step away from the monster that my eyes were fixated upon just moments ago before he could influence me further. I couldn’t look back. I didn’t look back. I left him behind me. But I knew he would walk wherever I walked.

I wasn’t in the town centre for any reason but to stay away from the place I see him most. I wasn’t there to purchase a valueless, neglectable item for someone that most likely forgot to buy me a gift. Or to meet a friend in a restaurant which sells overpriced, two day old food. I was there because I thought I’d be safer. I thought he would know to leave me alone.

Continuing to scrape my poorly-gripping, worn down shoes along the glacial ground, preventing myself from slipping and damaging any of the fragile bones that belong to me, the distance between myself and the monumental indoor market was now short. My pace was consistent as the surprisingly gratifying giant grew closer. I forced my tired eyes to look nowhere but directly ahead of me and in moments of intolerable discomfort - down at the ground. The branches that forced themselves out of my torso felt a lot more numb now. My trembling hands sat like unwelcome guests amongst useless items, kept due to sentimental tendencies, in the pockets of my oversized coat. I wore clothing that struggled to wrap my emaciated frame, which was a constant reminder of the distance between me and anything I’ve ever owned and loved.

Fear still swam around in my blood. I knew he could be just a breath away. Sweat was slowly spreading over my dry and blemished skin as my mind began to overflow with the idea of him. Naturally, my walking pace increased as all focus was pulled away from making sure my frail legs weren’t about to snap, and placed upon his probable presence.

It had been too long now. He never allows me to evade him for longer than the time it takes for me to feel content. Trepidation overtook me. Scraping my overgrown fingernails against each other in the pocket of my coat and grinding my molars together, my head flinched violently. I tried hard to keep my eyes on the ground but something demanded that I turn my head.

He was there.

Why did I let myself look in his direction? I knew he would be there, motionless, just staring. He always stares. Only three footsteps separated us this time. I could see through his colourless eyes, sitting on his scratched and bruised skin, and he could see through mine. Overexposed bones crowded his face, accentuating his almost inanimate stare.

The feeling of paralysis had returned. Terror, was followed by nausea which was soon caught up by uncontrollable hatred. My entire body was tense, causing severe tremors which pained and rushed too much blood to my head. My brain was a dormant volcano. I loathed him.

The fingers attached to my frail hands contorted into fists and I slowly let them rise from my pockets. They continued to shake just as violently as before. The urge to inflict pain upon him was burning through my weak and pathetic body. Nothing broke his stare. But I knew something that would.

A distorted memory is all I have of what I chose to do next. My right hand tore through the reflective glass, merging with the shrill sound that came out of my chapped, broken lips. I felt formidable. I felt fearsome. I felt alive. My body wouldn’t stop me. I struck him continuously with my bare hands. The combination of sweat and blood trickled down my sleeves. I felt insane. Shards of him were cutting into my skin, creating more scars on my arms. I stopped. He was gone. Broken into tiny pieces. Just how I wanted to see him. Frantic-faced bystanders appeared in the bloody shards on the floor I looked upon. But I couldn’t look at him. If I didn’t look, he wasn’t there.

I knew I’d see him again soon. Just as soon as I took a closer look in the other mirror right beside me.


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