Youngstown Demon
Darkness. It is a thick darkness, almost fog-like. A muffled and repetitive sound becomes slowly more discernable; slightly more clear as the moments pass.
The echoes of footsteps reach your ears. The footsteps are your own.
You are walking down a dark alleyway late at night, a row of parallel parked cars lining the side of the street as you take the sidewalk. You are searching for something. No, you realize, you are waiting. But waiting for what?
Headlight beams glare from behind you, a car having turned down the side street. It casts the long shadow of your silhouette onto the sidewalk before you. The car drives slow, creeping up; chasing your shadow slowly counter clockwise. Both the vehicle and your shadow are soon beside you, keeping pace. The driver rolls down his window and an excitement builds within you.
"Excuse me," comes the voice from the telephone call.
They don't speak, not this time; they can sense that there is no need to say anything. You already know.
The echoes of footsteps reach your ears. The footsteps are your own.
You are walking down a dark alleyway late at night, a row of parallel parked cars lining the side of the street as you take the sidewalk. You are searching for something. No, you realize, you are waiting. But waiting for what?
Headlight beams glare from behind you, a car having turned down the side street. It casts the long shadow of your silhouette onto the sidewalk before you. The car drives slow, creeping up; chasing your shadow slowly counter clockwise. Both the vehicle and your shadow are soon beside you, keeping pace. The driver rolls down his window and an excitement builds within you.
"Excuse me," comes the voice from the telephone call.
They don't speak, not this time; they can sense that there is no need to say anything. You already know.