Microhorror Writing Contest

Jennifer stood by her window, phone in hand.  He was out there again.  It had been a night or two since the old man stood outside her house.  Whenever he missed a night, she took it as a blessing.  She had hoped she would never see his tired, disheveled face ever again.  Yet, here he was. 

The man in question had been visiting her property for some time.  He looked like he had lived a long life and wasn’t in a good place.  She could tell from a distance that he had marks on his arm.  Were they from drug use?  A fight he had been in?  She didn’t know, and didn’t want to find out.  And most importantly, she just wanted him to go the hell away.

She had moved into her dream home a few months back.  It started off slow, with him occasionally standing across the street, seemingly staring her in the eyes.  She had called the police a few times, but nothing had been done about him.  He was never directly on her property, and he never got too close.  Could he just go away now?

Some nights were different, however.  It wasn’t always the case, but it was becoming increasingly frequent.  Occasionally, when their eyes met, the man would wave his arms, occasionally even yelling a “Hello!”.  She never answered, though, and Jennifer would always pull the shades closed.  This was the second time he was out here this week.  And this evening, those arms were flailing like he was a bird trying to take off.  She looked at the phone in her hands, slammed it down, and decided it was time to end it.

She stormed through the front door, grabbing the poker from her fireplace in case she needed to use it.  She didn’t want to, but she wasn’t going out there with that man unarmed.  As she did, his arms stopped flailing.  

“Hey!” She yelled, “What do you want from me?  Why do you keep coming back around here?”

He spat a disgusting ball of spit on the ground.  “This your place?  Used to be my place a few years ago.”

She lowered the poker slightly, not taking her eyes off of him. “Is that it?  That’s why you’ve been coming around?  Yes, this is my house now, and I would appreciate some privacy”. 

“You live here alone?” The man said, coughing.

She didn’t want to say yes, even if it was the truth.  “Uh.  I live here with my sister, and she’ll be home soon.  Now, please leave,” she said, trying to sound as confident as possible.  As she did, she headed back for the door to go inside.

“Suit yourself!” He yelled,  “Tell that sister of yours to call the police, though, if that guy is at your bedside again all night”.

A cold chill ran down her spine.  Panicked, she ran for the phone to call 911 as she heard footsteps coming down her stairs