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The Footprints

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The kid woke up gasping, having just had a nightmare. In his dream, a large man with a white, blank mask had crept slowly across the dripping grass, through the sliding glass door, and up to his room.

He then opened his door, and loomed over him, with what appeared to be a piece of melted plastic, melted to a sharp point. Then stood there. Just waiting. And not with bated breath, but with heavy, eager pants and wheezes before slowly, patiently walking out.

It's just a dream, the kid thought, it's just a dream, nothing bad, just my mind cleaning itself out...

Normally, that alone would be enough to calm him, and after about an hour of tossing and turning, he'd fall asleep. However, there was a problem.

He desperately needed to use the restroom, and the restroom was across the hall.

The hall which was currently dark enough to hide a large stranger and his blackened, jagged shank.

It's fine, I can hold it, it's fine...

Then a fresh wave of pain swept through his clenched muscles and he had to face it- he had to go. Now.

Mustering his courage, he leapt from his bed, threw open his door, and dashed down the hall and into the bathroom, slamming the door closed and locking it. With the last vestige of control, he held it just long enough to pull the toilet lid down and get situated before he relieved himself.

For a few seconds, he laughed a little at his foolishness. A dark creature, outside his door, stalking him? Please. And to think, he actually took his paranoia to such lengths as to run down the hall like that...

He chuckled to himself again and reached down to pull his pants up. His smile froze as he got up, still staring at the floor as he realized it was already too late.

Muddy footprints were on the tiles, leading in from the door.

They didn't lead out.

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