open.
Someone’s in the house! his mind screamed at him.
He searched through coats and boots and other odds and ends stuffed into the hall closet, but he couldn’t find the shotgun.
“Where the fuck is it?”
It had to be in here. This is the only place he ever kept it.
But it wasn’t in the closet.
“Looking for this?” Greg heard a man whisper from behind him.
Greg turned around and he didn’t even have a split second to react before he saw the butt of his shotgun arcing down at his face, he didn’t even have time to put his hands up in defense.
There was an instant flash of pain and then the world went black. Greg was out.
7.
Tara slept on the couch as the TV’s flickering light washed over her. The rest of the apartment was in darkness.
From the darkness came a whisper.
“Please help me.”
Tara’s face twitched, her eyes closed tighter.
“Tara,” the voice whispered. It was a man’s voice and it seemed closer to her now. “Tara, help me.”
Tara opened her eyes and she was face-to-face with Greg. Blood matted his hair and stained one whole side of his face. His eyes bulged with unknowable fear.
“Please, Tara. You have to help me. The Shadow Man’s here.”
Suddenly, the man was dragged away from Tara, pulled by his feet into the far shadows of the living room. His mouth was open in a silent scream. He tried to claw at the floor, but he couldn’t stop the invisible force that was dragging him back into the darkness. Three of his fingernails popped off as he left claw marks in the wood floor.
Tara jumped up on her couch, her legs tucked up underneath her body, her eyes wide open. “No!” she shouted at the darkness.
She fumbled with the lamp next to the couch and tried to wrap her fingers around the switch, nearly knocking it over before she finally twisted the knob.
The light. The blessed light.
She looked around at her living room in the soft glow of the lamp, but there was no blood-soaked man huddled in the corner.
Greg, her mind whispered. His name was Greg.
Tara let out a long breath and closed her eyes for a moment. But then she opened them – afraid that the horrible image of the man might come back if she kept her eyes shut too long.
She looked back down at the floor where he had been dragged away. But there were no claw marks on the floorboards, no broken-off fingernails, no trail of blood from his body.
Tara got up on shaky legs and hurried into the kitchen. She turned on the light over the stove and then opened the refrigerator to grab a bottle of water. She was so thirsty – she drank half of the water down. Her hands were still shaking from the nightmare, but she was beginning to calm down a little.
Something on the coffee table in front of the couch caught her attention. She hadn’t noticed it when she’d been on the couch even though it was right in front of her.
She set the bottle of water on the counter and walked back into the living room on legs that still felt a little unsteady. She stared down at the coffee table. There was a sheet of paper on the table and two pencils. One of the pencils was snapped in half.
She looked down at her right hand and saw a cut on the inside of one of her fingers. It was just a small cut, it had barely bled, it didn’t hurt and she hadn’t even noticed it until now.
Tara looked back at the paper and two pencils bathed in the flickering light from the TV and soft glow from the lamp beside the couch. She couldn’t remember bringing the paper and pencils out of her office.
She’d been sleepwalking again.
And she’d been drawing in her sleep again.
She sat down on the couch and stared at the paper which was face-down. Her night terrors were getting worse. The Shadow Man was back and he was out there killing people, and she could feel him in her dreams. And the Shadow Man knew that she could see him. The Shadow Man wanted her to see through his eyes, he wanted to show her the things he was doing.
And she knew that the
Someone’s in the house! his mind screamed at him.
He searched through coats and boots and other odds and ends stuffed into the hall closet, but he couldn’t find the shotgun.
“Where the fuck is it?”
It had to be in here. This is the only place he ever kept it.
But it wasn’t in the closet.
“Looking for this?” Greg heard a man whisper from behind him.
Greg turned around and he didn’t even have a split second to react before he saw the butt of his shotgun arcing down at his face, he didn’t even have time to put his hands up in defense.
There was an instant flash of pain and then the world went black. Greg was out.
7.
Tara slept on the couch as the TV’s flickering light washed over her. The rest of the apartment was in darkness.
From the darkness came a whisper.
“Please help me.”
Tara’s face twitched, her eyes closed tighter.
“Tara,” the voice whispered. It was a man’s voice and it seemed closer to her now. “Tara, help me.”
Tara opened her eyes and she was face-to-face with Greg. Blood matted his hair and stained one whole side of his face. His eyes bulged with unknowable fear.
“Please, Tara. You have to help me. The Shadow Man’s here.”
Suddenly, the man was dragged away from Tara, pulled by his feet into the far shadows of the living room. His mouth was open in a silent scream. He tried to claw at the floor, but he couldn’t stop the invisible force that was dragging him back into the darkness. Three of his fingernails popped off as he left claw marks in the wood floor.
Tara jumped up on her couch, her legs tucked up underneath her body, her eyes wide open. “No!” she shouted at the darkness.
She fumbled with the lamp next to the couch and tried to wrap her fingers around the switch, nearly knocking it over before she finally twisted the knob.
The light. The blessed light.
She looked around at her living room in the soft glow of the lamp, but there was no blood-soaked man huddled in the corner.
Greg, her mind whispered. His name was Greg.
Tara let out a long breath and closed her eyes for a moment. But then she opened them – afraid that the horrible image of the man might come back if she kept her eyes shut too long.
She looked back down at the floor where he had been dragged away. But there were no claw marks on the floorboards, no broken-off fingernails, no trail of blood from his body.
Tara got up on shaky legs and hurried into the kitchen. She turned on the light over the stove and then opened the refrigerator to grab a bottle of water. She was so thirsty – she drank half of the water down. Her hands were still shaking from the nightmare, but she was beginning to calm down a little.
Something on the coffee table in front of the couch caught her attention. She hadn’t noticed it when she’d been on the couch even though it was right in front of her.
She set the bottle of water on the counter and walked back into the living room on legs that still felt a little unsteady. She stared down at the coffee table. There was a sheet of paper on the table and two pencils. One of the pencils was snapped in half.
She looked down at her right hand and saw a cut on the inside of one of her fingers. It was just a small cut, it had barely bled, it didn’t hurt and she hadn’t even noticed it until now.
Tara looked back at the paper and two pencils bathed in the flickering light from the TV and soft glow from the lamp beside the couch. She couldn’t remember bringing the paper and pencils out of her office.
She’d been sleepwalking again.
And she’d been drawing in her sleep again.
She sat down on the couch and stared at the paper which was face-down. Her night terrors were getting worse. The Shadow Man was back and he was out there killing people, and she could feel him in her dreams. And the Shadow Man knew that she could see him. The Shadow Man wanted her to see through his eyes, he wanted to show her the things he was doing.
And she knew that the
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