text: It was a crisp Monday morning, an unprecedented bitterness wafting through our rickety house. I dressed myself to look presentable and descended the stairs into the kitchen, where I snatched a granola bar from the cupboard. I scooped up my backpack from beside the door, leaving without even a farewell from my negligent stepmother. Once I stepped outside, I drew my jacket more tightly around me. There was an icy breeze today, which was odd because the weather patterns in this town rarely differed. I cut between a few houses to get to the back alleys, in which I would begin the two-mile walk to school. I don’t take the main roads anymore, not since a kid got hit by a car there. I’d rather take the abandoned paths beyond the neighborhood, which are lined with dumpsters and garbage. It was then that things took a turn. I rounded a corner, and froze. About ten yards away from me was a very short man, about four feet tall, standing very still. His entire body was draped in a jet-black cloak, except for his face, which was wrinkled and pale and arranged in the most brutal smile I had ever seen. His platelike eyes were as wide as saucers, as if staring into my soul. In his pudgy little hand was a razor-sharp knife. He seemed a more twisted and vile version of the Grim Reaper, yet he never moved a muscle. For a moment, we both stood there, staring at each other. I brought my hand to my face and rubbed my eyes thoroughly. *He must be a vision,* I thought. But when I opened my eyes again, the Man was gone. He had disappeared in a split second, leaving no trace of his presence behind. Shaken, I continued on my way, but his face remained in my memory. When I arrived at school, I feigned serenity, though my sighting of the Man had unnerved me. I swallowed the ever-growing lump in my throat, and managed to survive the first half of the day without a hitch. Of course, I should’ve known that my peace wouldn’t last eternally. During recess, I saw a small boy from my class curled up by the fence with a book. It was Robbie, the timidest and most withdrawn kid in my grade. Under normal circumstances, I would not have taken notice of him, but the cover of the novel he was reading sent a chill down my spine. *The Strange One*, it was titled, and sported an image of a short man with a remarkable likeness to the one I had encountered on my journey to school. I approached Robbie, quaking. “Robbie?” I whispered, my voice quivering. “What is that book about?” His head snapped up from the page and he gazed at me curiously. “Want to have a look?” Nervously, I took the book from him and thumbed through to a random chapter. My heart stopped as my eyes flickered to a sentence in the middle of the page. *She saw a figure just beyond the tree, clad in a cloak with a pale face, and a knife in its hand.* Alarm bells chimed in my head and I goggled at Robbie, my eyes feral. “Is this... fiction?” I queried, desperately hoping it was. To my horror, Robbie did not give me the direct, reassuring response I desired. He stated, “I suppose it was written as such; however, it might be real. Why perceive something as fake just because you haven’t seen it with your own eyes?” *Whoever sees the Strange One will die within two weeks. It is an unavoidable destiny.* I tried to steady myself before I fainted. Deserting Robbie, I dashed back into the schoolhouse and towards the girls’ bathroom. At the sink, I splashed cold water on my face and stared at my reflection in the mirror. My mouth was dry and my hands were trembling, but then I saw something that made my heart turn to ice. I gawked wordlessly at the mirror. A few yards behind me perched the Man, grinning silently and creepily. The blood drained from my face. Slowly, I turned my head to look over my shoulder, but saw only the tiled back wall. I whirled back to the mirror. The Man had vanished. The air had grown frigid, as if I was in an icebox. In a fit of terror, I sank to my knees, not taking my eyes off of the place where the entity had been standing. Black dots danced in my vision, but I forced myself to rise. As soon as I was stable, I dashed out of the bathroom and ran for my life back outside to the schoolyard. I did not utter a word about what had happened for the rest of the day. Over the next two weeks I encountered the Man five times more: once standing menacingly in a sewer, once peering into my window, once hiding in the corner of an empty classroom, and once watching me from my closet. The fifth time was by far the eeriest: I was watching television when it began to flash and glitch, and a distinct image of the Man flickered onto the screen. On each occasion, the moment I blinked, he disappeared. I was concealing a horrible secret, one that chilled me to my core. And anyway, who could I confide in? What options did I have? My father was away on business. My stepmother wouldn’t care. And, according to Robbie’s novel, I was supposed to die at the hands of the Man tomorrow, fourteen days succeeding my first sighting of him. That night, I had a restless sleep and was tormented by nightmares. At about three a.m., I awoke to a persistent knocking on my bedroom door. I called for my stepmother, but only silence met my ears in response. I stumbled out of bed and ventured tentatively over to the door. Under the crack of the doorframe, I could see a person in a black cloak stationed mere inches from my nose. I knew without hesitation that it was the Man. And he kept knocking. I skidded backward and started shaking all over, shivering like I was cold. I sobbed, I prayed, I moaned, I willed to be anywhere but here. Anywhere out of reach of the Man. I scrambled back to my bed and buried myself under the covers, crying. Abruptly the door burst open and a figure materialized in front of me. As my eyes adjusted to the dark I saw none other than the Man, his knife raised high above his veiled head. I opened my mouth to scream, but only an anguished squeak escaped. It was all I could do to console myself as I watched his dagger come down, down, down. My world dissolved into shadows.