Charlie walked down the street. It was late at night, maybe around ten P.M. He was going home from his job, at the nearby beer store. He hated it, he thought it was a boring job that did not pay as much as he needed. Being only nineteen, however, it was really the only job he could get.
Charlie was a taller person, six and a half feet at most. He had black hair, combed to the left side, and grey eyes. He was considered, by many, to be a miserable person to be around, no fun, and all work. He rarely was seen to smile, and seemed scared of something most of the time, like something was grinding at his mind, something he would not admit to anyone. A hidden fear or something along those lines.
He knew what this fear was, and he refused to admit it to anyone. The image of a human, or a mockery of such, burned in his head. Pale white skin, an evil, sadistic glare, eyes with no white, no color, just black. That thing was haunting him, his dreams, his mind, he had seen it on one occasion. Just a flash, a corner of his eye.
That was at night, a few weeks ago, he knew it was her. He was sitting at home, watching the television, when he felt something creep up behind him. He turned around quickly in Fear, seeing only a flash of a mockery of a woman. Long, black hair, pure white skin, eyes with white pupils and black irises and whites. Her cheeks where slit open, showing shark like teeth. She, if it could be called a she, was burned into his mind forever.
And she, if it could be called a she, was behind him. Only a few feet from Charlie. She was stalking her prey, like a leopard watching an antelope. A few minutes passed, Charlie none the wiser to the being behind him. At last, she spoke.
“One, two, Blanky’s after you. Three, four, you’re at death’s door. Five, six, it will be over quick.” Every single muscle in his body tensed up, shot up with fear and adrenaline. He ran through the two options he had. Run like hell or die. He ran.
He ran as fast as he could, that thing half running happily behind him. His heartbeat increased, his face was wet with sweat, and he could barely run anymore, he heard that thing singing behind him happily.
“Seven, eight, it’s far too late.” He ran faster, even though his body was burning, he could barely breath, he felt sweat drip down his chin and nose, and then…he tripped. He fell on his elbows, which, behind covered by this shirt, did not skin, and broke the fall, his knees, however, skinned and bled. The being seemed to smell the blood, and it excited her. She, or it, walk up to Charlie, extended a hand to help him up, when he refused, she pulled him up.
The last thing Charlie felt was his arm being torn open by the being, blood pouring down it, he passed out, and never woke up.