Right Behind You.

You are in the forest.

It is night.

You stand in a clearing.

A cool breeze blows in from the northeast.

You are not sure how you got here.

You are not sure why you are here.

You stand in the clearing for a moment.

The hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

A chill starts to run through your body.

It starts in your left index finger.

Slowly, it crawls up your arm.

It crawls like a dying man, mortally wounded.

But it crawls with purpose.

Soon, it reaches your shoulder.

From there, it spreads across your body like lightining.

You shake it off.

You are afraid.

You are not sure why you are afraid, but now this fear gives you purpose.

You take one step forward.

Then another step, another step, and another step.

You're not sure why, but you know that you must never look behind you.

Maybe that is why you are afraid.

Afraid of what you do not know, what you can not see, what you can not comprehend.

Like the chill, you shake this idea off.

The hairs on the back of your neck stand up again.

You think you hear a sound behind you.

But you must not look back.

You walk a little bit faster.

You can hear your footsteps against the earth.

The sound seems to echo in the woods, or maybe that's just your imagination.

Eventually, you come upon another clearing.

Four rocks jut out of the middle of the clearing.

The three rocks that surround the fourth are large, but not as large as the fourth.

The fourth looms over the rest, like an intimidating overseer.

You walk to the nearest rock and touch it.

It is cold and lifeless, just as a rock should be.

Somehow that reassures you.

You move on to the next rock.

It is as bare and cold as the first.

The third has a surprise.

A piece of lined paper.

On it, is a depiction of a man,

He is tall and slender.

He wears a black suit.

He is surrounded by trees.

He does not have a face.

His face is pure white.

It is featureless.

You are not sure why, but you feel the need to take it with you.

You take the piece of paper.

You fold it up and put it in your right front pocket.

Somewhere, a gong sounds.

It seems far away, and the sound is low in pitch.

But it is loud, and it reverberates throughout the forest.

The hairs on the back of your neck stand up again.

You can feel him behind you.

You know he is there.

You don't look back to check.

But how can you be sure?

You now know what paranoia feels like.

You walk west of the rocks, and back into the forest.

Every tree seems to hide him, every bush, a potential ambush.

And yet you walk on.

After awhile --you are not sure  how long-- you come across a tree.

It is a large tree, dwarfing those around it by a confiderable amount.

You know you will find another page here.

You walk around the tree, and soon enough, you find it.

There are several depictions of the man on this one.

In the middle of the page, there are these words: "YOU CAN'T RUN."

The night seems to get darker, the shadows, more meanicing, the breeze develops a stutter.

The gong sounds again.

You walk north of the tree, but you do not run.

You do not look behind you, and you do not run.

Run, and he will find you.

The forest is a blur, you think he is everywhere, and yet he is nowhere to be seen.

You reach another clearing.

This one is larger than the rest.

As you enter it, you resist the urge to look behind you.

One half of the clearing is filled with five rows of large fuel tanks.

You choose the middle row, though it feels more like you're being guided.

On the middle tank, there is another.

This one simple reads: "HE IS WATCHING."

The gong sounds again.

You are paralyzed by fear, but somehow you manage to move away from the tanks.

On the other side of the field, there is a building.

You know it is a bad idea to go into the building.

You know what you will find in there.

You know you will not survive.

But you go in anyway.

The page has your mind ensnared like a siren's call.

There are no doors.

There are no lights.

The hallways are small and cramped.

You hear water dripping in a distant room.

You take your first right.

It leads to a room with a chair.

On the chair is the page.

There are several depicitons of the tall, slender man on this page.

But there are no words.

You must turn around to leave the room.

You fear leaving the room.

The room is safe.

For now.

Against ever fiber of your being, you slowly turn around to face the doorway.

He is not there.

An overwhelming sense of relief fills you.

You retrace your steps to the exit.

You turn around to face the dark hallway you came out of.

You smile, and chuckle to yourself.

You have narrowly avoided death.

Still laughing,  you turn around.

And he is there.

The tall man with no face is there.

The sound of static fills your ears.

Nobody hears your scream.

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