When You Gaze Into the Abyss

Peering out the patio into the night, my eyes darted back and forth, looking for movement. There was something out there, had been out there for the past three nights. The feeling of being imprisoned within the confines of my own home had been growing, fear rising with the knowledge that I was slowly being hunted.

Worse was that every time I stepped outside, the air was laced with a malevolent heaviness that stifled me. There was no singing of birds, no humming of insects. Every instinct told me to flee, but I knew that for some reason, I had to stay.

So I called my brother, a priest at a local parish. He had agreed to come over to rest my fears. When a knock rang out, I ran to the front window, relief flooding me at the sight of him. Quickly unchaining the lock, I opened the door. “Brad, thank God.â€?

He looked at me, and my blood ran cold. His eyes were dead, lifeless, black as a starless night. My knees buckled as a cruel smile curled his lips.

“Whatever gave you the impression that I was Brad?â€?

View this story's 16 comments.