« on: April 03, 2014, 11:12:38 PM »
I am intrigued. What are "tree droppings"? Also, do people still call their friends? They'd probably text.
It's late, you know you should have left the party a bit earlier, but you needed one last drink. You didn't drive because your friend's house isn't too far from your apartment. You came alone; thus, you leave alone. The party was a blast, and you had a big, intoxicated smile on your face as you hugged everyone and exited to the street.
The street was unusually dark due to the street lamps being out, and this area never had a high volume of traffic anyway: so it's just you — alone.
You walk at an even pace, adjusting yourself to the brisk night air and hoping to not look too drunk to a roving police officer with a quota to meet. Your street is narrow with thick foliage on either side. It's often referred to as "Horror Highway" on the account of it looking so stereotypically horror movie-esque. That thought was unsettling at the moment, so you pushed it out of your mind by the thinking of the cute person who you finally got the courage to approach to ask for their number.
You feel a slight chill. You have on your favorite sweater, so you still feel okay. The alcohol is warming your blood as well. Your beloved iPod was lost last week, so the night air and autumn leaves rustling are the only sound track of your walk. Just as you begin to sing your favorite song in your head, you think you hear something... a slight pitter-patter, like footsteps. Looking behind you, you see nothing but the blackness of the night and tree droppings. Turning around, you feel silly: "You're drunk," you say to yourself... but you hear it again! Pitter-pat-crunch! Pitter-pat-crunch! — Footsteps in the leaves! You turn again. No one is there, but you aren't quite sure this time. Time to pick up the pace.
What could it be? Another party-goer? No, they would have called out to you. A deer? Possible, very possible. The more possibles right now, the better to calm your nerves. It seems that this walk is strangely long; the street stretches far in front of you as your feet move in slow-motion. Now you wish you drove tonight.
It only took a minute for the sound to come back again: pitter-pat-crunch, pitter-pat-crunch. It was closer than the previous two times. You stop this time and swing all the way around! The sounds stop, but you see something very vaguely in the darkness, something almost invisible. A nondescript figure is behind you, and, for a quick second, you wonder how long it's been behind you and how you'd missed it before. It didn't move. Neither could you for a second, but you quickly got your wits about you, turned, and began to jog: you have to make it home! The sounds began, and your worst fear was realized: it was chasing you! Crunch! Crunch! Crunch! You found yourself unleashing speed and strength you hadn't called upon in years and ran for your life. Is it a robber or killer? No time to think, just run.
Finally, you make it to your door, and you jump up the stairs to your apartment, tripping on the top one. Keys already in hand, you hurriedly unlock your front door. The crunching had stopped, but you didn't care as you slammed and relocked your door, collapsing on the couch after. It probably was a neighborhood kid messing with you or a stray animal you surmised, adrenaline wearing down now. You sigh with relief and begin to check the rest of the rooms and windows in your apartment. Check. Check. Check. All clear. You're alone.
Heading up to bed, you ponder what had happened: were you drunk and imagining things? You consider calling your friends, but its too late, and you are too tired: it can wait. You slip off your clothes, and you get into bed with only a slight bit of fear left. Snuggling deep into that comfy bed of yours, slowly being over taken by sleep...
"I'm so very glad that you didn't find me. You wouldn't understand, — they never understand — and it makes me... It makes me have to do something drastic. The deep morass of solitude is unforgiving and harsh to ones like me... the ones deemed 'mentally unfit'. They don't understand my needs — they don't understand... They don't — they don't — they don't! But you do... Even if you don't know you do. I love watching you sleep — I love you... you are mine.
"Rest easy, you are alone... with me.