It took thirty days before the thing stopped looming over me.
You see, I'm a lonely introvert. People literally celebrate whenever they see me with another person besides my parents. I don't have any siblings. Ever since I stepped to college, I live at least a hundred miles away from mum and dad. I'm currently living in a small town. There is no such thing as a "close neighbor" here—the next house is five lawns away. It's incredibly quiet at night, and it's not so different in the morning and the afternoon either. It's not like I wanted to be in such a place of utmost solitude. College here is very, very affordable, and I just had to be here.
There are only two schools here—the local one and the university. The local one is where those puny children and unruly high school students adhere to, while the university, which is situated in a small ass compound, is where I go to. It's my first year in college, and I'm handling it well.
And I'm handling it even better given the fact that the thing's gone.
It was stealthy, though it never failed to show its big fat face whenever it wanted to. I couldn't even tell if it was in the same room with me, and I wouldn't even notice that it was there until I see it. It could transport itself from the entrance door to my bedroom in a second. Regardless if it was morning or night, it was just fucking there, accompanying me everywhere. I think it wanted to be my friend. Fuck that, I don't need friends.
There was this one night when I was studying for an early test. My room is a small one. It houses my bed, a small desktop table, a huge mirror, and a single window. I sat in front of my table, jotting down notes as I read through my book. Wanting to have a short burst of reprieve, I looked out of the window.
There it was.
Its pitch black beady eyes stared back at mine, casually moving around as it admired what I was doing. Its pale white skin looked like it was sinking down--just like it always has. Its perfect teeth were chomped down into a confusing smile. Its black, moist hair dropped down behind it, making me initially suppose that the thing's female, but how the hell am I supposed to know?
Seconds later, its face started to rapidly twitch, and it was gone. You think I would be scared—but no, this was the twenty-seventh night. I was used to my new friend's existence.
Later that night, when I had finally finished studying, I reluctantly turned the lights off and slumped flat in my bed. My room isn't air-conditioned, so I always leave the window ajar to let the evening breeze come in. It was significantly colder that night, so I completely covered my body with my blanket. Closing my eyes, I attempted to sleep. It was a tiring night, after all.
Hours later, I was awoken by what seems to be an eerie moaning noise. The thing never made a single sound before, so I thought there was an old woman outside. When I flipped my blanket away, it was there, standing beside my bed. Its eyes pierced through my skull. For the first time ever, I saw its body—a mass of dark leathery clothes. Its frail appendages limped beneath it. Removing its smile unprecedentedly, it moved its mouth to speak the following words in a groan, "I don't want you to be alone."
Three days later, the thing just stopped appearing, though I don't think I'll ever forget its stare; its lifeless, cold stare that always seemed to convey a message. Up to this day, I still have no idea who that thing is, or what it is, or whatever it's trying to do apart from it not wanting people to be alone.
Apparently, I'm not the only person who has experienced its haunting. One of the local farmers of my town told me that the same thing stalked him approximately five years ago. He added that he also had a friend in a distant city that went through the same thing. There were a couple of similarities between our experiences:
1. The thing first made its appearance behind us while we were taking a bath.
2. On the tenth night, it remained perched on top of the ceiling from nine p.m. to three a.m., staring down without moving.
3. The same incident on my twenty-seventh night happened to them, though the farmer had it in his twenty-ninth night and he was having a midnight snack instead of studying, and his friend reported that he had it in his twenty-sixth night and he was browsing the internet instead of jotting notes down.
4. We were all living alone at that time, and we were all introverts.
5. We were never harmed by the thing.
Overall, I don't think the thing wanted to do damage. Maybe it was kind all along, and its grotesque appearance only made its endeavor harder. I guess I'll never know.
But you can.
Once you take your next bath, why not risk it and turn around? If you happen to gain more information about the thing and its goal, feel free to comment below. I'm more than happy to piece my additional knowledge with yours. Its stare may hold more than what it seems, and we can solve the riddle behind this being if we all work together.
Best of luck. Don't forget to say hello to it for me once it comes.