It was 11:30 on a Wednesday night. Me and my girlfriend just finished eating dinner at their house, after we ate, I rested for a while and told her that I gotta get home.

She accompanied me to the corner of their street, and said our goodnights and kissed her.

The streets at their village were creepy at night, yellow light lamp post in every corner of the street, trees high enough to cover the moon, sods grow anywhere on the sidewalk, and bushes that could cover neighbor to neighbor. Houses were mixed with modern typed house and old creepy ones that could get you the creeps. Maybe seventy percent of the houses at their village were old. There’s a club house that looked like it haven’t been used in a long time and a torn-down house beside it. Some parts of the street was so dark because there was no corner streets, and you could see the light of the moon passing by the trees.

Every night I walk this streets, but tonight was different, in a way that I felt someone was watching me, following me.

I was walking down that dimmed street where there’s no lamp posts that could light up the street, the only light you’ll see was from the moon and some rooms in one of the houses. I just realized that there were no lights that were lit from those old creepy houses, not even one. Every night I walk this streets I never realize it until now, when I walk this dimmed street.

I continued walking, trying to distract this thoughts from any creepy s**t. But I just couldn’t do it, somehow my mind keeps telling me to be ready and defend myself.

After walking for a minute or two from that dimmed street, there would be a street corner with a lamp post, but the lamp post wasn’t lit, when I got closer I looked up and thought,

‘Huh! Guess the light’s broken.’

After inspecting the lamp post on that corner street, I looked at the other street and at the other end corner of that street, the light was lit, so maybe I was right that this lamp post was broken. While I was looking though that street, the corner end would only be going to the left because there was this huge gate covering the street. At other side of that gate, I saw a guy with his hoodie covering a shadow on his face, in the middle of the street, holding the gate with his two hands, facing towards me..

Now I thought my minds playing tricks on me, so I rubbed my eyes shut for a couple of seconds, and when I open it up, the guy was gone, and I took a deep breathe of relief and exhaled with my eyes closed. And I told my self,

“Come on, there’s nothing there.”

When I opened my eyes again, the guy that I just saw was there, not behind the gate, in front of it, about 10 meters away from me. His head tilted up with an emotionless expression on his face, pale lips, and his hands were dripping with something liquid. I didn’t get enough time to think what that liquid substance is, I didn’t get enough time to think and ask what he wants. Because before I open my mouth and ask, he started sprinting towards me and suddenly having a knife on his hand and a screw driver on the other. So I ran.

About 3 or 4 corners I looked back and he wasn’t there anymore, but I kept running until I reached the gate of the village.

I told the guards that I was being chased.

“What does this guy looked like?” they asked.

“I didn’t get enough time to look and observe his f*****g appearance for gods sake!” Panting. “But he was wearing a black hoodie, a knife on his hands and a screw driver on the other.”

The guards were looking shocked of what I just told them. One of them went to open their metal filing cabinet and pulled 2 papers.

He showed me a photograph of the guy that chased me, and told me, “This man was reported missing 4 years ago…” I looked at the other paper, where there’s this horrible photograph of the guy. He continued, “…He was found dead inside his home about 7 months ago. Have you seen the torn-down house beside the old club house?”

I took a deep breathe, and exhaled “Yeaaah.”

“That was his house.”

After that incident, I never walked those streets at night ever again.

  • Bonnie Manz

    I’m sorry the grammar and punctuation was so bad I couldn’t finish your story.

    • Elijah Enero

      Yeah, I’m just starting to write. I’m not good, I’m not great, but you know.. a little practice would make me better, right?

      • Bonnie Manz

        Absolutely everyone starts somewhere. Don’t give up you can only get better.