The Visitor

 Four years ago today, I had a visitor come to my house. It was a grey, overcast day, not rainy, just… dull. I remember making a cup of coffee early in the morning and not enjoying it very much. It was dry and flavourless, like the day itself. It was around 8:00 AM when I heard the knock at the door. The knock had startled me and I dropped my cup of coffee on the floor and the mug broke leaving a spill of dark coffee and ceramic pieces all over the damn floor. I go to answer the door; I thought I’d clean up afterwards. When I open the door to see who it is a gust of cold wind blew in my face. “Hello?” I exclaimed. Nobody answered. I close the door and walk back inside to see a very tall man wearing all black. I screamed of course, an assumable reaction. The man didn’t say anything. He simply just sat there on my chair, by the coffee table, in my living room. I stood there in shock staring at him. He had a long black cloak on that had a strange affect; it made him look like he was a shadow, just some kind of silhouette. His legs were crossed, and he had good posture. His long slender fingers folded on his knee. He lifted a finger. “No. Don’t you move I’m calling the police.” I said nervously praying he wouldn’t do something. Sweat was frantically dripping down my forehead. To my surprise he didn’t move, nor say anything, all he did was put his finger down and placed his hand back on his knee. He looked down at his feet. I was weirded out at this point. I then rushed to the phone to call the police. I told them there was a strange man in my house and that I didn’t know how he got in or where he came from. They were on their way. I didn’t want to let him out of my sight but at the same time I was just hoping he would disappear just as quickly as he appeared. I sat on my staircase and watched him. I had a knife in my pocket just in case. He still didn’t say anything. He was sitting in the same position and looking around the room. He was very calm. I watched him for the next five minutes being sure that he didn’t move one muscle. Finally he lifted his finger again. “Don’t move!” I screamed, shakily. He then froze for a minute before reaching into his black cloak. I dropped my knife; I thought he was pulling out a gun. Instead, he pulled out a very small thin sheet of paper and a pencil. He placed the paper on my coffee table and wrote something down. I didn’t want to take it from him but I figured I should. He slid the paper across the coffee table. I quickly grabbed it. The note said “Tea”. I was confused. I guess he wanted me to make him tea. I started to walk into the kitchen making sure that he didn’t leave my sight when I heard sirens. Thank god the police had finally come. When they knocked on the door I let them in and lead them to the living room showing them the man in my house. They didn’t see anything. I told them that I had sworn I’d seen him and he had been sitting there for the past twenty minutes. I allowed the police to look through my house. Still, they saw nothing. But I saw him. He was real as ever, sitting on my chair the same way as he was before. The police warned me for having wasted their time. I tried to get them to stay but they left. I didn’t know what to do. How can they not see him? I thought that if the police can’t help me I don’t know who can. I was a little bit more calm at this point but still very nervous. He didn’t exactly seem to be a threat. I went into the kitchen as I was going to do before the police came. Still watching him, I made the tea he requested. I brought it out to him and made some for myself as well. I placed the tea in front of him on the coffee table and this time sat down on the couch rather than the foot of the stairs. I was growing calmer as he still wasn’t posing any threat. He drank his tea quietly. As I warmed my cold pale hands on my mug, I asked him who he was. He pulled out another piece of paper. I guess he couldn’t speak. Once he finished writing he slid the note across the coffee table again. The note said “I’m a spirit.” I chuckled at the note and placed it back down on the coffee table as I took a sip of my tea. “Right.” I said sarcastically making fun of that preposterous idea in my head. Although, the thought lingered in my head… he didn’t really look like a man… I pushed the thought away quickly. I must be going crazy. All of this shock and I forgot about the spill in the kitchen. I put my tea back down on the table and went into the kitchen to clean it up. It had been a while, I wasn’t so afraid of the man in my living room anymore, he will obviously leave eventually as I can see he means no harm. When I got to the kitchen I realized that the spill wasn’t there anymore and the mug was on the counter with hot coffee in it. I could have sworn that I dropped and shattered that mug just a short while ago. I was really confused at this point. When I walked back into my living room the man wasn’t there. He left something on the coffee table. There was a little note, a small green leaf, and a gold coin. I picked up the note carefully and read it. “This isn’t the last time.” It said. What did that even mean? Shortly after reading it the note fell to pieces in my hand. Weird, I thought. I didn’t know what to make of the other objects so I placed them on my dresser in my bedroom. It’s odd. There was a strange sensation of having him there on my chair, in my living room. Now, four years later, I still patiently wait to hear a knock on the door and maybe see him again, to serve him some tea like before. Its bazaar, but maybe he was a spirit after all.