I see it when it isn’t there. I feel it watching me, even though there are many objects between us.
Why do I feel this. It isn’t really able to do that, right?
No! Remember that that is what it wants you to think.
It can see you.
It thinks about you.
It plots for you.
It waits until the moment you fall asleep too rise form its small tittle rocking chair, to do the one thing it exists for.
I looked out my window to the house that it stays in. The little girl was in her room playing with it. She didn’t realize the danger she was in.
Then she put it in it’s chair.
I should have been able to think nothing else of it. But I had to jump behind the curtains when I saw it look at me. That slight unnerving smile. The drooping, thoughtful, yet dead eyes.
It saw me. It knows I know. It must keep its secret. No one must know its evil thought. Not even me.
It will come for me.
It will cross the street.
It will find a way into my house.
It will creep slowly up to my room.
it will open my door.
Even now I feel it plotting. Even now, as I peek through the window, I can see it move its stiff little body.