A strange smell awakens me from my sleep, indescribable. The only word I can come up with is foul
A strange lanky figure stands in my corner, no facial features except large white dots for eyes and skinny cheeks.
“What the fuck?! Who the fuck are you?” I shouted in panic at whatever the thing is.
It was panting, like it had just finished a marathon without consuming a drop of water. It blinked, making a squishing sound.
“Seriously, get the fuck out my house now, I’ll kill you!” I exclaimed, grabbing my handgun from the side drawer
“Too late, John” it said. Its voice was metallic, like it was speaking through a metal pipe.
“This thing is loaded! Leave my house now, or I’ll blow your brains out!” I cooked the gun, safety’s were off and I had a clear shot at its buldging head.
“It’s been awhile John, it’s been a long time of this, yet you haven’t noticed.”
“What does that mean?! Huh? Huh?”
“I’ve watched you for awhile. At Maria’s party, while you ate that overcooked burger because you had no other food in the fridge, and every night when you walk home”
“Why? What the fuck is wrong with you! What are you!”
That’s when I fired my gun. Black ooze shoots onto my wall, and moves. It crawls around like caterpillars and enters the vents, leaving a trail of black mystery fluid on the pain.
I don’t remember the rest of that night. But I woke up at around 8:24 am, I came to the conclusion it was a horrid nightmare, but alas, I was wrong
He’s talking to me now. At night he Whispers in my ears even though I can’t see him. It’s always something cryptic, something I don’t understand. It’s kind of nice though, in a way it feels like I have someone with me, someone who sticks with me, or to me. Especially with how frequent its gotten, it was weekly, then every 3 days, then every day. Now, I think I can never stop hearing him. His wet panting, booming voice and cryptic wording echoes through my eardrums. He doesn’t stop talking.
I forgot I wrote this. But I’ll give an update. I can see him now. Before, it seemed as if he was not there, like I was hearing things. But now he’s there. Coming ever closer, I can see him from out the window now, every day. His lanky body edges ever closer to the door. His words become louder, more personal. I don’t know what to think, if I’m okay with this or not, if he is friendly or not. I like to think he is, like he isn’t going to hurt me. Like he doesn’t have malicious intent when approaching me.
It’s been a week, He’s here. In my room. It’s like he takes a few steps a day, and now he’s in my room. I don’t know how he opened the door, but he’s in. As I’m writing this he’s staring at me. His shining white eyes staring at me, his skinny arms raised above his thin, sopping head. I’m not sure what to do. He doesn’t respond to me anymore, and I just need to know one, very important thing,
are you my friend?