text: I’ll begin by saying that I am by no means a successful writer. I’ve got nothing published nor have I ever made money for my effort. Every story or poem I’ve written has been just for me and a select few dear friends. I’ve had a rough go of life lately so I tend to write some pretty dark stuff. For example, I wrote a short story about a young man fresh out of the army (Chris) who had his apartment broken into by a beautiful women (Chloe) who said she was in trouble and running from someone. Chris takes care of Chloe for a while, insert drama, until he falls in love. The whole thing plays out like a romance until Chloe, who turns out to be a serial killer with a very specific M.O. cuts his throat in his sleep. I wrote this story entirely in my car at the parking lot of where I work. This is where it all began. I always arrive early to the parking lot, sun still hiding under the horizon. I turn on the overhead light, grab my notebook, and set to work. I was fighting the frustrations of finding the best way to end the story with Chris and Chloe when I feel tiny needles prick the back of my neck. I look up distracted because it was that distinct feeling of somebody watching me. I do a glance around and see nothing until I check my rear view. Piercing blue eyes set in a pale and perfect face meet me. I immediately turn around to confront the intruder but when I look back, she’s gone. I knew right then who I had seen. Someone I’d only ever seen before in my mind. Chloe. My heart threatened to beat out of my chest. I quickly left my car and made for the office. Thankfully, though the hour was early still, the doors into the building were unlocked. After the strange morning, the rest of my day passed without incident. I was quite sure of what I saw but how normal everything was at work and having all those people around was comforting so I dropped it. I thought it must have just been stress playing tricks on my mind. Those eyes were so vivid though, just as I described them in the story. They shined in the darkness of my car, piercing with all their wickedness. I checked the back seat at the end of the day before traveling home. A few days go by normally, as days tend to do, until I see my Chloe once again. I was woken by a crash in my apartment. Just as Chris was. I investigate, grabbing the nearest weapon of opportunity which so happened to be a metal baseball bat I had since I was nine. I open the door ordering the intruder to reveal him/herself. “SHOW YOURSELF” I put as much menace as I can muster into my otherwise inoffensive voice. “You needed only ask, creator” a lovely voice calls out in the darkness. I hear bare feet on carpet approach, nearing the blind corner the living room wall creates. Luminous and evil, her blue eyes come into my view. I flip on the lights next to me ready to attack and see her stop, smiling at me. She’s near as tall as I am. Her skin is pale to an alarming degree, scars on her arms hardly visible. Her clothes are torn and painted crimson with what appears to be fresh blood. She does not look exactly how I first described her in my story. Her fingers are elongated along with the rest of her limbs in a grotesque way. One of her hands carries an ornate letter opener, it was me who put it there I recall in irony. Her smile reveals black teeth, startling in their sharp contrast to the paleness of her lips. I can’t stop shaking just recalling this night. “Why are you here?” I asked meekly. “I am here dear creator...” she purred, “to be the monster you made me out to be” then she lunged.