So...I have no need for outside interference to terrify myself. I'm perfectly capable of doing that on my own. Just bring in a windy night, preferably an autumn night so the leaves can rattle, and let me go for a walk. My imagination has a habit of seeing things that aren't there, or attributing creepiness to things that don't need it. While I'm on the walk, throw in a set of wind chimes to jingle just as I walk by, they'll set me on edge even faster. It doesn't help that I'm either receiving a message telling me to call someone when I get said message, or I'm sending it but interrupting myself before I find out who its recipient is. This is the second time that it has happened. The same message, typed out three times in a row. Both occurrences happened while on a walk late at night.
Call me when you get this message.
Call me when you get this message.
Call me when you get this message.
Three times, in an outgoing text message. Sure it's a template on the phone, and I'm sure it was just my keys pushing some buttons. But really, three times, on two separate occasions? Sets my mind to searching every shadow for an assailant, or every rustling leaf an approaching footstep. Tonight's walk also had the pleasure of being graced by a creature of the night. I don't know for sure what it was. One moment I'm walking down a sidewalk, and then I see a blocky figure where the sidewalk ends. I get a strange feeling from it and go to move to one side of it, but for some reason I convince myself to stay on my path. Surely it's just one of those electric pole box things, right? But no. About ten feet from it, it bolts across the road into some heavy shrubbery. The next thing I find? On a sign behind the creature is a Lost Cat poster. It's such a weird coincidence that it sort of sets my entire mood for the rest of the walk. Tinny sounds echo down the deserted street as the wind brushes up against metal signs on pole and ropes on a flag staff. The music playing in my headphones is no longer comforting, but a barrier to sounds I should be listening for. The short distance through a shadowless expanse of sidewalk, buried in the void between street lamps, is tense and I wait for something to rush me. Even mostly closed curtains on houses I walk by have a hidden threat, vigilant eyes watching me as I go. I complete my walk, still spinning every so often, hoping to catch a glimpse of the pursuer I'm sure is there. The door unlocks with some effort, and while most of the house is dark, I sigh in relief that I had left my soft lights on in my room to welcome me home for the night.
