The Man Who Waits

    Do you see him?

     He's right outside the window, waiting in the woods. He's waiting in the old, abandoned places, in the places you think you know when day has turned to night, in the places you walk through faster after dark. He's waiting where his form is obscured by shadow and fog.

    He's right in the corner of your vision.

    He's right behind you whenever you wonder if you're alone, only to vanish when you turn around to look.

    He's right there. But you can't see him.

    Not yet.