tap tap tap Here it goes again.

The tip of his haunting blade drums across the window in a soft rhythm. Peeking through the half-closed milky curtains of your living room, he stood tall, his white mask reflecting the dim light from within the house, glinting just like the steel of his knife. His head tilts with the slowest motion, as if asking the most obvious question of the century.

How long has been since you've been the center of his sight? he doesn't even remember. Maybe long enough for that scratched heart by the window to become a regular image with you on the middle of it for him.

tap tap tap He's impatient today. Must be the way you sat there staring back, or the fact that he missed his usual visit last night. He'd apologize later for it, even though he knew you saw the reason earlier today on the news.

Such a shame he missed your reaction. They're always his favorite.

This time he scraped the windowpane with an earsplitting squeak. A persistent cry to get your attention.