Cry.Black.Tears

It was night. As usual, our shop was the last to close. This shopping centre no longer enjoyed the crowd it used to have years ago and most shops close early. Ours, for some unknown reason, abided by our opening and closing hours of 6am to 9pm faithfully (or stupidly depending on how you see it).

“Clip clip clip,” I heard that familiar clicking of heels on the tiled floor. Aunt Lucy was here. I never liked her for she had a sharp tongue and no one was spared from her insulting sarcasm. My sister liked her though (birds of the same feathers flock together), what more can i say. She didn’t come alone. Her husband, Uncle Lionel, stood beside her as well as her brother, Uncle Tony. They looked serious and uptight. Something was wrong.

“We need to talk.” Aunt Lucy said curtly and looked pointedly at Mum.

Mum nodded and told me to look after the shop with forced casualness. She wouldn’t look at me in the eye.

“What lousy acting, something must be up!” I thought in my heart but aloud I said, “Sure. Come back soon! I’ll tidy the shop first.” and pretended to busy myself with baskets of clothing. As soon as their shadows whipped pass the corner, I called my sister and together we closed the shop hurriedly and sneaked out after them.

We found them outside the building on the front porch. Hiding behind the staircase, we eavesdropped.

“He’s back.” Aunt Lucy whispered. It was a statement, not a question. Her voice was filled with dread, like how a person might sound to know that the inevitable has come.

“Yes, I know. I felt him.” Mum replied, in an equally hushed and dread-filled tone.

“What can we do? Why now? Why again?” She was close to breaking down. I never saw her this vulnerable before. “We can’t let the children know. It’s too dangerous for them.” Aunt Lucy decided, her voice a little stronger now with something in mind to protect.

“No, Lu. Letting the children know is the best way to protect them!” Uncle Lionel protested.

“But it’s too dangerous! What if -”

“Wait. Someone’s eavesdropping.” Uncle Troy interrupted in his matter-of-fact tone. Damn, I knew he had psychic powers! I would sometimes see him talking to people I can’t see and it creeps me out.

We knew we were busted and meekly trooped out from behind the staircase. Aunt Lucy made a sort of strangled sound and I was going to steer her off with some crap but before either of us could say anything, my sister gasped and her face went pale. I looked at her and at my relatives, who were all wearing the same mask of terror. I was confused at first. What, they got tricked by my sister’s acting? Since when could she act anyway? But now I felt the air turning colder, felt the tentacle-like evil infused air brush my cheeks and I realise that this was no act. I recoiled in horror and following the direction in which everyone’s gaze was transfixed, i saw framed in a window in one of the high-rise buildings across the street, the dreaded hooded figure staring at all of us.

“You can see him?” Aunt Lucy’s lips were barely moving.

“Yes,” my sister said, almost like in a trance. “I can sense him, feel him.”

“Yes,” Aunt Lucy replied, dazed. “We all can.”

“Except me.”

Surprise surfaced beneath the mask of terror on my family’s face except my sister’s but no further questions were asked. We were all too captivated by the hooded figure.

And so in the night, six figures were seen standing in the moonlight, staring at something the passers-by couldn’t see. They are waiting, but for what? None of them knew the answer. In their guts, they sensed a disaster fast approaching and they can do naught about it. I watched as the hooded figure turned and disappeared from the window. I wonder what will happen when he appears again.
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And we come to the end of my frigging long nightmare.

Part 1
Part 2

Follow up by TrueStoriesNot- From the Attacker

“There!” my younger sister gasped and pointed to the left.

I spun and looked in the direction she pointed. My panicked eyes searched the scene before me. Parents taking their toddlers for a walk, children playing by the water feature, couples sitting on benches… where? and suddenly I spotted him.

A lone hooded figure looking like Death the Grim Reaper but without the scythe stood unmoving just slightly behind the last lamppost as the next lamppost disappeared behind the bend. His face was shrouded in shadows but there was without a doubt he was staring at us, and only at us.

It felt like time stopped when we locked eyes (or perhaps I imagined I am looking into his eyes because I couldn’t even see his face). My body stiffened as terror gripped me. You remember the fear you felt before an exam you were unprepared for? Or perhaps the thought of jumping off a cliff to do the flying fox when you’re afraid of heights? Or the despair when you realised that this was not within your control and it was going to happen regardless of what you do. This was a time when I felt all three at once but amplified a thousand times more.

Noises became muffled and entered my ears in slow-mo, dragging each tone, each pitch to an unbelievable slow speed till I did not even know what is was that I’m hearing. Was it my blood pumping? Perhaps. I am aware of a vein jumping at my temple, and my heart pounding extra hard in my ribcage as adrenaline spurred by fear coursed through my body. I was trying to steady my breathing, letting air out from my mouth in short quiet breathes, like breathing too noisily might be a trigger for it to attack. Instinct took over as I reached out, took my sister’s hand in my own numb one and took a small tentative step, then two, backwards. Soon we were breaking into a run for the shopping mall behind us.

Part 2
Last part