Sarah and Katie were in the front yard of their lovely Victorian style house playing with a few of their friends. It was a beautiful, early autumn day. Leaves on the trees were changing colors into elegant shades of yellow and red – the leaves were just beginning to fall to the ground. Clouds were slowly gathering overhead, and thunder echoed faintly through the mountains. All the children were running around screaming and laughing when all of the sudden Katie, who was around the age of five (ten years younger than her sister Sarah) stopped where she was and just stared at the little white house across the street.
The house sat alone . . . one of only two houses on that side of the street, which were separated by big open fields on either side. No doubt the yards of those houses turned into deep, dark woods, leading into the mountains behind the houses.
Across the street, in that old creepy house, an older man lived alone. He often stood in the window and watched the kids playing in his neighborhood. This day in particular, he was watching the kids directly across the road. He watched with loathing disgust as they screamed and laughed. He stood tall and stiff, his face completely emotionless. In his hand was a knife . . . he was holding it up facing downward away from his body as if he was ready – waiting.
Sarah ran up to her little sister and pushed at her arm, “You’re it!” Katie didn’t say anything; she just stood there motionless with her face full of terror. Sarah turned her gaze towards the old creaky house to see what Katie was looking at. “There’s nothing there, Katie. Come on, let’s play.” She pulled at Katie’s arm, but she just let it limply fall back to her side.
“Sissy,” Whined Katie, “der was a mean, ugly man. He was staring at me. He – he had something,” stuttered Katie.
“Katie you’re just imagining it. The old guy who lives in that house is completely harmless. He’s a retired soldier; he’s just messed up mentally now . . . people believe he went crazy. He’s not going to do anything – he never even leaves his house.” Sarah tapped her sister’s shoulder gently. “Come on, you’re the one who begged me to come out and play.”
Katie reluctantly turned away from the old house and ran off to resume playing with her friends before it got too dark to play outside anymore. They had begun to play a game of catch, which Sarah tired of quickly. Just as she was heading back inside, Katie yelled “Oh no! Da ball went into da cweepy man’s yard!”
Sarah turned around and grabbed her by the shoulders and gave her a quick shake. “Katie, stop being such a baby! Just go and get it . . . nothing is going to happen!”
“No, no . . . I won’t! Da cweepy man might det me!” Katie whined with tears forming in her eyes. “See, der he is! He’s looking again!”
Sarah looked over at the window. “Ok, so he’s looking out the window. You’re such a wimp! He won’t do anything! I told you, he’s just got some mental issues from fighting in a bloody war. And it’s the creepy man might get me, not da cweepy man might det me!” Sarah said sarcastically as she stuck her tongue out at her sister.
Katie stuck her tongue out in return. “Come on, let’s go inside.” Katie said to her friends as she walked towards the front door.
“You’re all just a bunch of big wimps!” Sarah turned around just before she made it into the house and decided to go get the ball before it got dark and she wouldn’t be able to find it. “Ugh, things I have to do for my sister!”
As she crossed the street, the old man was still standing in the window. “He looks nice . . . ” she whispered to herself. As she stepped onto his brown, crunchy lawn, she yelled out to him that she was trying to find her ball. The man nodded slowly. “See, he’s harmless.” She couldn’t find the ball anywhere. “Maybe it made it to the back yard?” She looked up into the window to see if the man was still standing there. Sure enough, he was. As she looked up at him he lifted his hand slowly and pointed towards the side of his house. She waved as a kind gesture and said thanks as she ran towards the back.
Walking alongside the house looking every which way she made it to a door at the back of the house. Suddenly, the door opened, startling her so that it made her jump. She looked up slowly noticing the man was standing in the doorway wearing a worn out pair of blue jeans and an old plaid shirt. He was holding a ball in the palm of his hand. She just stood there looking at it for a second. “This isn’t our ball . . .” she thought to herself. “Eh, just take the ball and go back home. She won’t even notice the difference.”
“Thank you,” she said as she hesitantly reached up to grab it. The man handed it to her and nodded, saying absolutely nothing. They both stood there a few seconds just looking at each other, until Sarah smiled and nodded then silently began to turn away to walk back home. The mysterious man grabbed onto her arm just as she was about to take her first step. Now . . . she was scared, though, she tried desperately not to show it. Sarah looked down at his hand that was gripping her arm. He was holding onto her arm so tight that it was almost too painful that she wanted to cry out in pain.
“Come eat some ice cream.” The man said in a monotonous voice, breaking the silence. His face was emotionless and stern. His eyes looked deep into Sarah as if he could see down into her very soul. It frightened her. She felt that he could sense just how scared she was even though she tried to seem untouched by his persistency.
Still trying not to sound or look scared she said as calmly as she could, “no thank you, I really have to get back before supper.” When his grip didn’t loosen she tried to pull away, but had no success. She tried to scream for help, but the man cupped his other hand over her mouth and began to drag her into his house. She kept struggling to get away, digging her sandaled feet into the dirt trying to find a footing. She kicked and squirmed as the ball fell – rolling across the dirt.
The man seemed so strong – too strong, really, for being so old. He was only maybe in his mid-fifties, but he always seemed so fragile to everyone that saw him, which made him appear older. Once he finally succeeded in getting the girl through the door he slammed it shut behind him. The room was surprisingly neat . . . not a thing out of place.
The man began pulling the young girl towards his nightstand where a big sharp knife was laying. He hated children, especially the pretty ones. He grew up always being teased by the other children all the way through high school and then on through to college. The girls took pleasure in teasing and torturing him . . . going out with him only to stand him up or make some kind of fool out of him. The boys would beat him up whenever they could find him alone. He despised young people. He would take each one out; one at a time . . . they had no right to live.
Though Sarah felt helpless, she bit the man’s hand to try to get away from his strong grip . . . that was the only thing she could even attempt to do. The man yelped and grabbed his hand to look it over. He was bleeding pretty badly. Sarah took the opportunity to try to run away, but he caught hold of her shoulder and threw her back. He heard a squeal and looked back finding that the girl had fallen against the corner of the dresser. Her head was bleeding and she was only half conscious, slumped down toward the ground. He smiled slightly, grabbed his knife off his nightstand, and slowly began walking towards the helpless girl – knife up and ready – blood flowing down his arm from the wound on his hand. She was able to gain enough strength to look up and let out one loud, eerie scream, but it was too late.
