Literary magazine

The living room door slammed shut, and there was the

“You,” Steve said, slowly, intoning each and every word,

sound of heavy breathing. All at once, the cold had dissi-

“there.”

pated, and there was warmth. Yet silence reigned still.

You saw what it was out there. You are not going out.

There was no sound from beyond the refuge of the wood-

They waited in silence for an age. Johnny didn’t notice

en door, from out in the corridor.

the cold anymore. He didn’t notice much of anything any-

Johnny looked at the others. They were staring, wide-

more. He only looked out of the window. The figure —

eyed, at him, almost like a pair of twins; Johnny sup-

the thing was still there. It stood still, almost like an exe-

pressed hysterical, dark laughter. Then slowly, feeling his

cutioner about to perform his deed. And as Johnny

way to the door like a recently blinded old man, he drew

looked closely, the fear having given way to a dull curiosi-

apart the curtains that covered a tinted glass window,

ty, he realized with a kind of wonder that it had no human

and looked.

face. This was something far more primal.

He was suddenly acutely aware of his heart beating, and

Immediately, several things happened at once.

acutely aware that it might stop at any moment.

There was a thudding, an almighty thudding, on the door.

There was a figure, standing in the darkness, in the corri-

Johnny found a scream escaping his lips, yet there was

dor of his own home. It was shrouded completely in

no sound. There was the tinkle of window glass shatter-

shadow, yet there was something terribly wrong, some-

ing, and Johnny felt the night wind almost buffet the side

thing unspeakably evil about it. In the reflections of the

of his face. In that instant, he was acutely, viscerally

glass, it was liquid, inky, but Johnny, the intuition coming

aware of his own mortality. And in the surreal state of that

to him like the first stab of winter cold, knew what it was,

moment, Johnny looked through the curtain again, and

and knew what it was there for.

even then felt the stab of dread as he beheld it. Then, as

he watched, it turned. Johnny saw it turn its face, or

It was waiting for them.

whatever it was, towards him. His heart stopped its

That — whatever it was, spirit, demon, apparition — was

cheerful beating, and slowed. Blood, warmth, rushed to

waiting for them, out there in the oceanic darkness of the

his forehead, and that spurred him into action just as he

corridor of his own house.

noticed that Martin had gone out of the door.

With an effort, he drew himself back from the glass. The

Steve was quick to act, and even as Johnny realized the

other two were crouched against the door, helpless. Mar-

acute selfishness of Steve’s action, he fully empathized

tin had begun to babble.

with it. The door was pulled firmly shut, and the two of

them sat down on the floor, with their backs to it, panting.

“That’s nothing. That — ha! That’s some damned guy. It’s

some damned guy who wants some bloody food — I

Another age passed.

don’t know — and broke into the house; what else, I

No-one spoke. Johnny rose once, almost infinitely slowly,

mean, who else could it be, alright? Look! What? We all

to peer through the curtains again, even though his heart

six-year-olds again, are we? Eh? This is rubbish. This is

was fervently begging him not to. Martin was nowhere to

absolute rubbish. Three grown men, afraid to bloody go

be seen. It, however, was still there. It was not merely

outside and…what?”

laughing now. It was positively shaking with laughter,

He trailed off, suddenly. Johnny dared to look again out-

chortling at their fear and their terror. Johnny felt sure

side. The trees rustled, and now there was noise. There

that it was looking at him. He wasn’t sure that he could

was a shuffling noise, like a gnarled branch being

bear the sight for much longer.

dragged through an autumn forest floor. The figure was

When he came back, Steve was gone.

still there. And now — and Johnny was sure of this, he

felt it — it was smiling. It was laughing, in its infernal

mirth.

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