The day was February 1st, the day to before my 21st birthday, and unknown to me, to be the worst day of my life. The day started off without a hitch, my friends were being the wonderful dicks they were, and my girlfriend was radiating beauty per the usual. They came and picked me up after work and swept me away to our favorite restaurant in town, a slightly lazy looking pizza and wings shop in downtown. It was around that time when it became unhappily unordinary.

The few drinks I had consumed compelled me to the restroom, and after abiding to my bodily functions; I walked up to the sink to wash my hands. The atmosphere in the room seemed to be heavier. The room itself seemed to get mustier, dustier, as if I had wandered into an abandoned Victorian-age house. In the mirror, I saw a stall door swing slowly open. A feeling twisted in my stomach, telling me I was no longer alone. I turned behind me and saw that nothing had moved. I turned stiffly back to the mirror, and jumped. The mirror was cloaked in dust, the words, “Goodbye, Sam,” smeared into it. I stumbled slightly and gripped the sides of the sink. Sam was my name. 'This had to be a prank,' I rationalized. “Brad! You punk! Get out here!” No answer. “Come on guys! Knock it off!” Silence.

I scoffed and swiped at the mirror to spite them. In the reflection, there was figure. It was a tall man, too tall to be one of my friends, and wore ordinary clothing. He wore some very unusual items, though. Twin swords were strapped to his arms, attached at the wrist and just below his elbow. Two sheaths rested on either side of his ankles. He had some sort of fabric bound tightly around his head, and a wrap around his eyes, if he had eyes. I was unsure at the time. When I turned to face him, I found that I was alone. I turned once again to the mirror to finish washing my hands. I looked again for the figure in the reflection and found he was a head taller than me and standing right at my shoulder. I dropped my sight to the sink drain and gripped the sink again, and gasped. Chills ran up my spine as he breathed into my ear. But it wasn’t a quite breathing. Two voices whispered softly into my mind. I turned towards him once more, and again, he wasn’t there. I stood there for a moment, weighing my options, trying to convince myself this was all a hoax. After a moment, I turned to the mirror again, turning degree by degree. He was there. His head seemed to inhabit the entire mirror, as if he stood inches away from the surface.

I turned to try and run out, slamming directly into the figure’s chest. The figure evaporated and the dust coated my lungs as I tried to breathe, struggling for breath. I stumbled blindly towards the door and through tear streaked eyes, I saw him between the door and me. I stopped and watched him for a moment. He smiled a big wide smile that that stretched and tore the fabric at his face, the smile extending into the wraps around his eyes. A high-pitched screeching emitted from the mouth he opened, at such a high volume I couldn’t hear anything else. It grabbed for me, and I felt cold metal against my neck. I swatted at its head and managed to shove past it.

I slammed the door against the wall in my attempt to escape, running to my friends sitting at a table, where the food had arrived. I frantically tried to convince them what had happened in the men’s room, only to be shrugged off. My girlfriend, Jennifer, was the only one that seemed to be worried. In my sleep that night, I heard the voices again. They both spoke in unison, yet the words seemed to have different meanings tied to them. One of the voices was very wicked, unnerving, verging on insane, while the other one was welcoming and soothing. The voices were neither male nor female, but they always sang, “Listen to our song, so you are not steered wrong, if you value your life, and to live, you strive, listen to me. Never travel in packs of two, or he will come after you. Never stay, never stray, or he will kill you. The clock strikes. Time’s up! Time’s up!” Over and over again, they sang, a thousand times.

It was now the 2nd, my 21st birthday. I tried to forget the figure, but I couldn’t, I honestly don’t know if anyone could. Jenny and I went to a movie that day, and the voices continued to sing on loop, haunting me. After, we began the drive home. The highway we were on was usually very busy this time of day, but there wasn’t a single car other than us today. Almost 15 minutes into our drive, the voices seemed to be singing with more enthusiasm. While I was thinking about this, I looked forward into the road. It was there, the man thing stood in the middle of the lane in the road.

I slammed the wheel hard to the right and Jenny screamed as I swerved hard and clipped the road barrier and the car began to roll. The car rolled for what seemed an eternity slammed into a second, and we ended up upside down and leaning against a column of an underpass. I managed to go though that and sustain no major injuries. I kicked out the window and I climbed out relatively easily. When I stood, I looked around and saw the figure standing a few yards away. “Sam?!” I heard Jenny yell. “Sam! Help me! My leg...” she moaned, “it’s stuck. I think it’s broken.” I snapped out of it quickly and started the task of rescuing her, the whole time stuttering to answer her questions of why, and what was happening.

I tried to explain everything the best I could and after she simply smiled at me. “No, no one is going to hurt you.” She stood on her own feet against my protests and shoving, and began to walk towards the figure. I tried to stand in front of her and stop her but she just brushed past me. “There is nothing to be afraid of, I will show you.” She walked to the figure and turned back to me, smiling. The figure lifted its arms and thrust its swords into her back, on either side of her spine, criss-crossing in front of her. She embraced the blades and tried to beckon me as blood poured from her mouth. I stumbled back and started to run away. I looked back to see the Jenny slid off the blades and crumple to the ground.

I ran to the center of town, towards the largest building I could find, hoping a mass of people would be there. I ended up at the clock tower, with only a single couple across the street. I could run nearly fast enough. The figure had caught me and grabbed me by the shoulders, I tried to shrug him off but he held me too tightly, I clawed uselessly at his face. The wrapping around his head was loosened and his left eye revealed. It was large and rimmed in black, with a large unnatural red iris that took up most of the eye, and a tiny pit of a pupil, it was truly the most terrifying thing I had witnessed in my life. The eye seemed to contain the world’s worth of insanity and chaos, seemingly unclouded and able to see everything wrong with the universe and enjoy every moment of it. There was such a potency of anger and rage that it seemed to burn you from the inside out.

It grasped my head and slammed my head into the bricks of the building, pulling back and thrusting my head against it again. The pain was so great I couldn’t react; bits of bricks and dust flew past my ears and fell to my feet. The figure pulled my head back again and I tensed for the pain, but it never came.

The clock above me rang five times, irony not lost to me. I was born at this time, 21 years ago. I opened my eyes to face death, but found I was no longer being held. The figure stood a few feet away, the wraps now hung on its shoulders, both eyes exposed. The right eye of the figure was not like the other; it was a very cool blue, so clear I found myself willingly loosing myself into them. It was beautifully rimmed in long black lashes, seeming to contain only reason and emotions. It seemed both deadly and merciful, and I found my breath caught in my chest.

The figure then walked towards the two people who were confused on what was happening and didn’t now how to react. The figure walked past them, pulling a dagger from his sheaths and throwing it into his neck. The movement was very graceful, sliding down the length of his sword and embedding itself deeply without interference, killing him instantly. Then he turned the corner and disappeared from sight.

Apparently I had blacked out, because I woke up in a hospital. Ever since that day, my life has been different. I learned from the hospital that my drunkard mother had not remembered my age before I was old enough to do it myself, and that I was actually 22 instead of 21. Also, through research I found that I was not the only one that had been attacked by this creature. Many other people were killed by it but not a single one was under the age of two or was 22. Stories came that children of slaughtered families were spared due to them hiding under their blankets while their families screamed. Perhaps this creature has compassion too. One of these children was the daughter of one of my mom’s friends from high school, who I took custody of. The voices have stayed. They sing softly most of the times and louder when I need them to, and sometimes my newly acquired daughter sings with them absent-mindedly. “Listen to our song, so you are not steered wrong…”