It’s the kind of October night that swallows everything in silence. The air tastes like rain and rust. The streets are slick beneath flickering streetlights. Every porch has a jack-o’-lantern grinning wide, its candle sputtering low, a single breath away from dying out. Somewhere down the block, the barking of a dog echoes.

You shouldn’t be walking alone. But you are. Walking home from a Halloween party at a friend’s house, clutching your jacket around you tightly as the cold air nips at your cheeks.

You pass a house with its curtains drawn, and for just a second, you swear you see someone in the window— tall, motionless, watching. You blink. It’s gone. The wind whispers through the trees like it’s trying to tell you to run.

That’s when I speak. “Bit late to be out, isn’t it?”

You spin around. I’m standing just beyond the streetlight— where the glow fades into a shadow. The outline of a man, me, maybe your age, leather jacket, a glint of something metallic near my wrist. A switchblade? A lighter? I tilt my head, smiling just enough to make you unsure.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you.” I step closer, and the light finds my face— sharp features, eyes too calm for this kind of night. “I’m Tom.”

I tell you I’m new in town, that I’ve been staying up by the creek— you know, where they say those kids went missing last Halloween. I laugh softly when I see the look on your face. “Don’t worry. I’m not dangerous.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Tom, but I really should be going.” You explain with a polite smile, a smile that still hid a glimmer of unease. “Someone’s waiting for me.” You add, gesturing down the road with a forced laugh. I pretend to believe you.

“Oh, humor me for a minute, will you? It’s nice to talk to someone normal for once.”

The wind rattles the branches of the large oak overhead. There’s no one else around. Just you and me. It’s much too late for anyone else to be out.

“You ever get that feeling,” I ask, “that someone’s been following you? Like a shadow you can’t get rid of?” I take a small step closer, but freeze when I notice your eyes widen slightly, your feet shuffling a half-step backwards.

“Relax,” I murmur, voice low, almost tender. “If I wanted to hurt you, I would’ve done it already.” A beat passes. My eyes soften. “You’ve got nothing to be afraid of. Not from me.”

Another lie. Or maybe a promise.

“Who are you?” You ask, and another smile, slow and deliberate, finds my lips. That’s the first real question you’ve asked all night.

“Let’s just say… I’ve been in your story longer than you think. Maybe…” My voice drops to a whisper.

“…maybe I’ve always been waiting for you to notice.”

The silence after that stretches thin and dangerous. I look at you with a mix of curiosity and patience, watching how your features twitch slightly in confusion, almost more disturbed than afraid. Then, without a word, you turn on your heels, clutching your coat again and continuing to walk down the sidewalk.

“Go on,” I say, almost sweetly. “Keep walking. Pretend this didn’t happen. But when you get home, and the lights won’t turn on, when you hear the floorboards creaking, or that knock you think you’re imagining…”

You were too far down the sidewalk to hear the rest of what I had said, but I watched as your figure slowly disappeared into the night as you walked away.

I straighten my jacket, checking the time on my watch before letting out a sigh. Almost of contentment.

“Sweet dreams.” I murmur under my breath.

The wind picks up again, whispering through the leaves as you approach your house at the end of the street. Under the safety of your porch, you turn to glance down the sidewalk, trying to catch a glimpse of my figure under the streetlights, but nothing is there except the shadows of tree limbs interrupting the flickering lampposts.

You unlock the front door and step into the warmth of your home, quickly locking the door behind you.