• At first I didn't think anything of it. After all, we'd been friends for quite some time; he wouldn't hide something if it bothered him too much. But, he hadn't left his house for over a month and he even refused to answer his phone. I decided to go to his house in person. When I arrived, something felt off; the windows of his house all had their curtains drawn and some even had wooden boards placed on the inside. I made my way to the front door, now more than a little worried. As I made my way through the concrete path, I noticed the unkempt state of the lawn. Tall grasses grew everywhere, along with gnarled weeds strewn near the path. Their prickled leaves extending out across the pavement, as if to hamper my advance. I arrived at the front door. I pressed the doorbell, but there was no sound. I knocked, the sound echoed throughout the house but then returned to its eerie silence.

    After a few moments, I decided to open the door. As my hand reached for the knob, I noticed deep scratch marks in the metal. My hand withdrew. Noticing the window nearest the door, I chose to look through, to check if I could see him within. After all, perhaps he fell asleep inside and simply couldn't hear me. I peered through a small crack in the boards but I couldn't see through the intense darkness. Only the faint outlines of furniture could be made out. Bracing my fear, I took hold of the door knob and turned. Too my surprise, it was unlocked. I pushed the door, but it jerked as it opened in. The light from outside poured into the home. Everything appeared normal save for a thin layer of dust on the table and sofa. I took a few steps in, towards the coffee table in the main room. Taking a quick glance at the assorted magazines and remotes placed upon it, I realized something. These were in the same position last time I had been here. They hadn't been moved in at least a month. My eyes darted up as a cold chill ran down my spine.

    I considered calling out for my friend, but a sense of fear and anxiety gripped my throat. Looking for him would be better, I thought to myself, then I could surprise him he'd probably enjoy that; I tried to justify my hesitation. Taking a quick glance around, something caught my eye; several punctures in the wall nearest the stairs. I moved to get a closer look and immediately regretted doing so. The carpet along the stairs had been disturbed, almost torn in several places, adorned with several small red stains. My eyes followed the stains up the stairs. At the top, silhouetted by the faint pale light shining through the drawn window, a figure stood.

    Michael? Is that you? I asked my voice nearly cracking. The figure did not reply. C’mon Michael don't try to ******** with me, I’m not in the mood, I tried again, my demeanor nearly able to mask how simply terrified I was. Still, it did not reply. I stood there in silence, staring at it for several moments. It felt like a small eternity that my eyes locked onto that shadowed face.

    The silence broke. Not by speech, but by a simple sound like a faucet hadn't been completely shut off; the simple drip of liquid upon liquid. The sound came from the figure before me. I noticed a small droplet leave the figures hands and fall to the floor. In that brief moment, against the ghostly light seeping in, I saw the true color of the liquid; a deep scarlet.

    My eyes widened, breath shortened. Michael what the hell did you do! I screamed, failing all measures of calm I had attempted. The figure took solemn step down the stairs. The figure's body came into full view. Its torso was covered in open wounds and scratch, highlighted by the seeping crimson slowly dripping upon the floor. I took a step back, nearly falling. My whole body shook. It took another step down the stairs. I tried to move further away, but no matter how hard I begged, my muscles wouldn't move. Tears began to swell as my own limbs betrayed me.

    It took another step, and another until the figure's face emerged into the light. I couldn't help but hold my hand to my mouth, partially to prevent myself from throwing up. It was Michael alright. His eyes look to have been carved out, brutally, leaving reddened craters. His lips had been torn off, revealing a permanent smile of jagged broken teeth. Blood was flowing from everywhere on his face, but even so there was no mistaking it was Michael. All bodily inhibitions fled and I darted for the open door. He jumped from the stairs with inhuman speed and acrobatics and started after me. I sprinted as fast as I could but twisted figure caught up. I only had enough time to grab the door before I felt knife-like punctures in my shoulder. It tore into my flesh and severed muscle. I felt the figure begin to pull on the leverage it had gained.

    I screamed in agony as my pain receptors lit like fireworks. I looked back and it had its fingers in my shoulder and was puncturing its way to my shoulder blade, all the while baring the sickening hellish grin. I kicked and flailed wildly, but the more I struggled the deeper it went in. I pulled on the door, hoping I could pull myself outside but the things grip tightened. Its strength was too much; I could feel my grip upon the door slipping with even passing moment. In desperation I flung my leg as hard as I could in one final attempt to free myself. I felt a sickening crack as my foot connected to the thing's lower jaw. In that moment I pulled with all my strength and propelled myself onto the front patio. Momentarily shocked by the success, I laid there, prone against the pavement. All too suddenly I was reminded of the situation. i jumped to my feet and reached to close the door. Before the door could close, the thing lodged its hands in the way, scraping violently at the door. I could feel it opening the door against my strength. I could see its decrepit face as it forced open the door; its soulless bleeding sockets both terrifying and mesmerizing me.
    My arms slacked and the ting began to pry the door ever more forcefully.

    I snapped to my senses and pulled once more, this time closing it against its fingers. There was a crack then the fingers retreated back inside. I closed the door. I darted for my car. I fumbled for my keys, and in so doing, dropped them. As I reached for the keys I quickly looked back. Surprisingly, there was no sign of it. It made to no attempt to follow me. I quickly grabbed my keys and got in the car. I decided to make one final glance before taking off and it was there, standing in the window, the boards destroyed. It simply stood there and smiled with what remained of its lips. I couldn't hit the pedal fast enough.