*Magnify*
SPONSORED LINKS
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1017657-Dying-Day
Rated: E · Short Story · Horror/Scary · #1017657
He's coming...but who might that be...?



A man stood on the corner across from the family diner that used to be a treat for us on Sunday’s. It was funny now that you think about it, how things change for both better and worse.

The man wore a T-shirt that was plain black and a pair of jeans that seemed to be new. The hat he wore was a baseball cap that read, “Go Sox!” He stood on that corner for what seemed like forever, it wasn’t a bus stop, maybe he had called a taxi.

He kept standing there when the first drops of rain fell from the dark evening sky, as the wind picked up, I saw the tree's wave and whip through the air. The man was now soaking wet but he didn’t flinch, the drizzle became a soft pounding, and the frizzy black hair under his baseball hat dripped from the rain water.

I glanced back over to the other tables in the diner, the family diner, I felt out of place here. I wasn’t married and probably wasn’t going to be for a while. The rain picked up into a slight tapping to the window, which made me think that the man would probably hunt for shelter soon. I didn’t look. I kept myself busy by watching the waitress’ talk to the younger children. I looked at the families, and the kids, and the ceiling . . . until I could bear it no longer, I glanced outside the window to see the man, to see if he still was standing in the rain, waiting for something that was taking a long time to arrive...

He was there, he looked as if he hadn’t moved a muscle, his clothes looked as if they got heavier and more cumbersome. I imagined how his socks must feel.

I started tapping on the wooden table in a rhythmic pattern. Pound, pound, tap. Pound, pound tap. Over and over again. The sky darkened and the trees waved around more. Pound, pound, tap. I felt warm and uneasy, the blood in my veins seemed to have started to pump faster, in the tune with the beat of my quiet pounding. Pound, pound, tap . . . Pound, pound, tap.

I thought I might lose my mind if my waitress hadn’t come at that exact moment in between the middle of the rhythm I had created. I sighed and thanked the waitress, a really attractive young girl of about 20. I went to work eating my order.

I was halfway through the meal, when I glance outside to the corner where the man was, He was gone. The rain was coming down harder now, and I supposed there would be flash flood warnings or something on the news when I get home.

I stared out to the corner for sometime longer, almost thinking it was impossible for the Stranger to have disappeared. I glance over the street for him, but he was gone. I felt an unbelievable sigh escape my lips. . . HAHA . . . pound, pound, TAP . . . POUND, POUND, TAP . . . THUD . . . It took me a long while to figure out what that was. It was my heart...

I saw the man as I drifted to sleep, he was rain soaked and smelled like the rain, his badge glared from some light I couldn’t quite see. The man had a sorrowful look in his eyes. It looked like he was hating something, something he hated to see for a long time. I felt nothing for some reason, no feeling in my legs or mind, I felt hollow. The man stood out from the other people that were around me. I didn’t notice them much, they seemed to just be painted on the world now, as scenery. Not the part of the picture, not the message being portrayed they were just scenery.

I stared at the man, he was the only one in the room that seemed to actually be there. He reached into a pocket of his jacket, it sprayed some rain water on my face, I didn’t say anything.

He pulled out what looked to be a mirror. The edges were a beautiful wood, nothing I had ever seen. He walked closer to me, his clothes dripped from the rain water. He wore a fake looking smile. I heard what seemed to be voices in the scenery, it sounded urgent to me, but all urgency left me.

He stood above me, drops of rain splashed my face. He lowered the mirror to my face, his smile grew more fake with every passing second, but I trusted him still. He lowered the mirror to my face. I saw a movie in that mirror, one that was around 26 years long, but over in a few seconds. Than i understood... But I felt hollow all the same. . .I went with him.
© Copyright 2005 Take apart your head (ohiois4lovers at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1017657-Dying-Day