The Visitor

        Abigail Morris is a thirty-three-year-old single mother. She is just arriving home after a grocery run that lasted much longer than she intended due to an unfortunate wreck on the highway back home, causing a lineup that appeared to have no beginning or end. Upon reaching home in her small one-bedroom apartment, Abigail will soon find herself in a situation in which time is running out – but for whom is the question?

               She enters the door to her small living quarters at approximately eight o’clock at night, her infant daughter, Natalie, held close to her hip. Natalie had just gotten over her crying fit after being confined in their small car on an unmoving highway for so long, but now has a flustered appearance that says she might just start up again at any moment now.

               Abigail sighed heavily as she let her purse slide off her shoulder and onto the floor as she power-walked to the kitchen, her forearm straining as the several bags loaded with grocery items and household goods pulled against her. She was about to allow these bags to collapse to the kitchen floor like she allowed her purse to at the door, but caught them just before they hit the floor as she remembered the carton of eggs, and had no idea which bag they could be in. So instead, she bent her tired knees and gently set the groceries on the floor, then moved to the small child playpen she kept at a nearly equal distance between the kitchen and the sliding glass door which led to the minute balcony of their apartment room, and put little Natalie inside.

               Natalie wasn’t quite ready to walk yet, so she crawled interestedly around her small enclosure as she cooed happily at the various toys littered about the space. Abigail had to stop and watch her, thinking to herself how precious her daughter was and silently wishing to herself that she would never grow up – dirty diapers and all, she would have her daughter this sweet and innocent being for as long as she could dare to hope. As she stood before her daughter in her playpen, her eyes wandered to the sliding glass door, giving her a view of the street outside.

               As she looked outside, she saw a thick fog had abruptly materialized on the pavement, obscuring the view of where the sidewalk ended, and the asphalt driveway began; even the yellow streetlights gave little clearance to any distinct view of any solid descriptors of the outside world. She absently noted that no other light in any window in the other neighboring apartment complexes was on, even though the night was still on. When she made this vague observation, she saw an odd faint red glow coming from within that thick mist on the street. She couldn’t make out what it could be from, or even any kind of form around it – it was like a small red orb floating in the fog under the slight illumination given by the streetlights.

               She turned back around and began to put away the groceries, humming to herself as she did so, and allowed herself to believe that Natalie’s soft coos worked in tune with her hums. When she closed a cabinet after putting away a can of green beans, she noticed something eerily strange; a sound coming up the fire escape rail on the side of the building.

               She heard footsteps coming up the rusted walkway. They were heavy and fast as if someone were trying their best to sprint upward, and it was getting very, very close.

               Abigail shot her head to the side and let out a sharp scream, as she saw two crimson eyes peering at her over the handrail of their balcony. These eyes were surrounded by a shadow that resembled the shape of a head, but all other recognition ended there. She could see no hair or skin color, no type of clothing, nothing to give a single descriptor to a policeman other than simply a shadow with two red eyes. Natalie noticed it too, and she looked at the macabre figure curiously as she absently shook her small stuffed bumblebee.

               “You get the hell out of here!” Abigail yelled at the strange figure, “I’m calling the police!” She took her eyes off of the thing and glanced at her purse over by the front door. She made to retrieve it and grab her phone, but as soon as she looked away from those red eyes she heard rapid movement, like clanging metal as it was pushed around. She shot her eyes back at the thing and saw it was now fully on their balcony in a twisted crouch. She could see now that it was closer that it wasn’t breathing; it was as perfectly still as one of the flowerpots that sat on the balcony guard rail. Unmoving, those deep scarlet eyes remained unblinkingly fixed on her, so long as she looked back. “What… What do you want?” She choked out. The shadow did not move, did not speak a single word. It only stared at her.

               Abigail thought she could side-shuffle away towards her purse, hoping she could call the police. Slowly she shuffled her feet to the side, and the thing’s eyes scrutinously followed her as she went. She felt she was close, but it was still too far as she had broken the line of sight with the creature.

               Quickly she jumped back into view and saw the thing had stood up higher, the tip of its head almost in line with the top of the sliding glass door. Its hand was frozen as it was reaching towards the door handle and its horrid eyes now fixedly looking down at Natalie.

               This froze Abigail’s blood, and the air was caught in her lungs – it was after her daughter; her Natalie. But as long as she was looking at it, she learned, it could not move. So, she did the only thing she felt she could do at that time; keeping her ease fixed on the malevolent shade she pulled up a kitchen chair and sat, staring at it until… Well, she didn’t know until what. But what other choice did she have?

               There Abigail sat, locked in a staring contest with a creature whose eyes were locked on her daughter. Natalie would look up at her mom and try to get her attention with a conversational coo and slam her bumble bee on the floor. Abigail would think that the shadow was probably grateful for Natalie’s attempts to steal her attention; to give the thing a chance to move ever closer.

               Abigail wished so badly that there was a clock somewhere in her peripherals but knew there was obviously none. Time passed by and Natalie began to cry fiercely for her mother. Tears streamed down Abigail’s cheeks, wishing she could comfort her daughter, but was too determined to not move an inch as she watched the ephemeral statue-like thing.

               Another hour or so, and Natalie fell asleep. The thing outside the door, though it had not moved at all, seemed to have an even hungrier look in its eyes as it watched the sleeping infant.

               Her eyes are so, so heavy now. How much time had passed, now? It must be at least past midnight now, and she had had such a busy day, she was so tired. She slapped herself in the face several times, trying hard not even to blink.

               Despite it all, eventually, her eyelids did close. Her head nodded down…

               Abigail gave herself whiplash with how fast she shot her head back up to look at the red-eyed shade. It was no longer level with the door frame. Now, the sliding glass door had been slid open, and the shadow had crept halfway through the doorway with an unnatural crescent-moon-curve to its back. Its eyes remained a blood red, though now there was a wide – inhumanely wide – grin across the black space where the rest of its face should be, revealing rows of white, spaced-out teeth. One of its hands remained on the glass door’s handle while another was stretched out towards Natalie. Its arm was long and lanky, almost twice the length of Abigail’s own. Though the distance between the balcony door and Natalie’s pen was several feet long, the distance was halved by that spindly arm alone.

               Abigail let out a horrified gasp and clamped a hand to her mouth. She felt the urge to reach out and touch it, but was too afraid of the unknown consequences of doing so; would it kill her? Would it be, in some way, given permission to move on its own volition whether or not it was being watched, therefore snatching Natalie away and running back down the fire escape? She wouldn’t risk it. Instead, she stood up from her chair and did calf raises to help her stay awake and locked onto the thing. How much longer until this nightmare can finally end?

               Off in the distance in the corner of her eye, Abigail could see dawn slowly rising. The weak orange glow slowly rose and filled the streets, and the strange fog began to fade. For the first time since Abigail’s eyes had been set on the creature, it moved – its evil eyes moved up and looked at Abigail while the rest of it remained still as a brick. While its eyes now glittering maliciously up at her, it spoke through its disturbing grin in a deep, reverberating voice. Then, it simply vanished. There was no fading away, no puff of smoke, nothing Abigail would have expected of it – one moment it was here, and another, it simply wasn’t. Abigail picked up her daughter in a frantic scoop and began to cry as she kissed Natalie over and over, the creature's last words before leaving them stuck in her brain; words that would haunt her nights for years to come as she lay awake in waiting.

               “I’ll come back for her. Again.”