By Noah Moon
I was sitting in bed reading one night. The time was about three o’clock in the morning. I had never been one to go to bed before five a.
m. I found it the most peaceful time of my day when I could put on a pair of loose cotton pajama pants and a white undershirt and
crawl into bed with my book awaiting me. Oh the feeling of pulling my warm comforter over my legs after a long day at work. I don’t
know if there is anything quite like it. I rested my head back against my wooden headboard and turned on my reading lamp on the
nightstand. I stretched my arms one good time to get rid of the last of the day’s stiffness. I grabbed my book off the nightstand and
opened it to where I had it marked. The book I was reading was so good that I had spent my day like a child who can’t wait to get
home to play with a new toy. I was entrenched in this book. I was so in tune with the characters and their world that I almost felt as if I
were a part of it. When I read I can block out everything else around me. The walls to my house are very thin and I can hear every
bird that chirps during the day and every cricket that sings at night. Before I took up reading, these noises used to drive me crazy. It
was all I could do to fall asleep. I could hear every car that drove by in the neighborhood at four in the morning. It would always sound
like they were pulling into my driveway. I hated that. It scared the life out of me. It made me so paranoid that I started keeping a
baseball bat beside my bed. Though since I started reading, I hadn’t even thought about it that much.                                            
On that aforementioned night sitting in my bed I was, as usual, immersed in the book I was reading when I heard sticks in the woods
outside of my house begin to break as if someone was stepping on them and crushing them. The breaks were steady. I lifted my eyes
from my book as if I could see through my walls. I listened closely and soon the sound of the breaking twigs and branches stopped. I
shook my head and disregarded the whole moment. I went back to reading. I heard dogs in the neighborhood begin to bark, which was
nothing unusual except that it was so much more intense than usual. It wasn’t the bark of dogs yapping at a bird or squirrel in a tree
that had been taunting them. It was a barking as if they saw or sensed something that scared the hell out of them and that they wanted
to make sure everyone in the neighborhood was on their guard. I had hoped that some of my neighbors would go outside and shut
their stinking dogs up, but it didn’t happen. It’s so hard to read when dogs are barking their heads off. I tried to push the noise out and
concentrate on my book. I had just started getting back into the flow of the story when I heard something on my back porch. It was
footsteps coming up the stairs. My heart began to race, because20these weren’t the steps of an animal. These were the steps of a man
in heavy shoes. And judging by the sound of the footsteps it was a large man. I felt as if a lump had settled in my throat. Who or
whatever it was, was walking slowing on the wooden planks of my back porch. The hands holding my book were trembling. My
breathing became so hard and loud that I couldn’t hear anything. I tried to slow it down. The footsteps were making their way around
to my patio. Oh God, I could see a shadow outside my bedroom window. I could have sworn it was a man’s shadow, but for some
reason that I can’t quite explain, it didn’t look like a human man’s shadow. Either way it was large. Its breathing was heavy. Even from
inside my house I could hear its deep and loud breathing. I was trembling so bad that I didn’t even notice that I had dropped my book.
I slowly rolled my covers off my legs and got out of bed. I grabbed my baseball bat and clutched it tightly in my hands. Whatever it
was, it was walking so slow that it was driving me mad. I could swear it was stalking me. It moved out of my view from in my
bedroom. I went out into my living room to see where it was going. It was leaving my patio and heading for my front porch. My
breathing was coming faster than it ever had. Cold sweat was dripping off my forehead. Every muscle in my body was so tight that I
felt stiff. The thing was walking towards my front porch. I could20see its shadow through my blinds. It didn’t walk like some lurching
monster. It walked slow and steady in a way that let me know it was toying with me. As I stood in the middle of my living room, I saw
it start to walk towards my stain glass front door. As it reached my door, it stopped and turned as if it were looking in on me. Even
with my front porch light on I couldn’t make out its face or being for that matter. I stood in my living room with my bat trembling in
my hands. I saw the thing raise one giant hand and begin to pound on my door. It was pounding on MY DOOR! I felt a warm
sensation run down my legs that let me know I had pissed myself. The thing stopped knocking. I waited still trembling. I wanted to yell
at it to go away but I had no voice. A cold chill ran down my spine when I heard the most God-awful voice speak from the other side
of my front door, “I KNOW YOU’RE HOME! I KNOW WHO YOU ARE!” Fear gripped me like it never had before. I finally
found my voice and yelled back, “I’M CALLING THE COPS! GET OFF MY PORCH!” The thing didn’t move. I reached for my
cordless phone on the table beside of me without taking my eyes off the thing at my door. I hit the talk button only to find that my
phone was dead. The thing terrorizing me had cut my phone line. It stared at me as if it were mocking me. I threw my phone down
that I would scare the thing off by saying that, but I sure as hell didn’t expect the God-awful laugh it gave me. So deep and uncaring. I
was scared out of my mind. I didn’t know what to do. Just when I thought it was going to be an all-night showdown, the thing outside
my door simply turned and walked away. I listened as its heavy footfalls walked off the end of my front porch. In my panic, I had
forgotten about my cell phone that had been sitting in its charging cradle. I kept my eye on my front door as I made my way over to it.
I snatched it as fast as I could and dialed 911.                                                                                    
Fifteen tense but quiet minutes passed before the police arrived at my front door. I answered it quickly and took a quick scan for
myself to make sure my unwelcome visitor was gone. The officers were very nice and checked my entire property. They had made me
feel more at ease although I didn’t think I would ever be at complete ease ever again. They checked my property thoroughly and had
almost assured me the coast was clear until one of the officers called me to my back porch. His voice was uneasy. I asked him what
was wrong. He told me there was something I should see. I went to my back porch and nearly filled my pants. On my steps were
written three words, in blood. I’ll BE BACK!