The Midnight Man
Image Courtesy: Den of Geek
The rain was pattering against the window. I glanced up at the old-timey clock sitting above my desk, tick-tock…tick-tock…tick-tock. The hand couldn’t strike twelve soon enough. I had prepared all the materials for the game hours in advance; a candle, matchbook, paper, pin, and salt sat on my desk. Tonight, the Midnight Man would be invited into my home.
As the minute hand crept closer to twelve, I began the process by writing my full name on the piece of paper: Jesse Smith-Martin. Then, I pricked my finger and squeezed a droplet of blood onto my name. My hands began to tremble, not from fear but from excitement. With the ritual out of the way, I walked from light switch to light switch, turning them off one by one. The darkness consumed my home, and I realized it now belonged to the Midnight Man this evening.
I walked back to my room, placed the paper before my door, lit the candle, and set it upon the paper. I closed the door and started knocking. One, two, three…twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two. The final knock came precisely at twelve. Perfect. I swiftly opened the door, blew out the candle, grabbed it, and re-lit it. Just like that, the game commenced. Now, the fun begins.
Image Courtesy: Google Chrome Images
It was time to exit the room and begin roaming the house. With the packet of salt safely in my pocket and the candle burning bright, I felt an odd sense of comfort within the darkness. I walked slowly, each step lighter than the next. As I turned the corner at the end of the hall, I saw a shadow dash down the steps. “Toying with me huh?”, I mumbled under my breath. I followed what I believed to be the Midnight Man down the steps. As I walked off the final step, I heard glass shatter in the kitchen. The sound caused my heart to skip a beat, and the candle slipped from my grasp. It thumped against the floor, and the flicker that was once so bright and beautiful vanished. I had ten seconds to relight it. I fumbled through my right pocket for the matches and pulled out a pack that was soaked red. What? I glanced at my hand and realized it was covered in blood. A shard of glass from the candle was lodged in the palm of my hand. Relighting the candle was no longer an option. I had five seconds. I could hear footsteps creeping closer as each second passed. As quickly as I could, I reached into my left pocket for the salt packet, and what I felt caused my heart to drop. Nothing. How is this possible?
I didn’t have time to think, so I sprinted toward the kitchen in the hopes of grabbing the salt jar. The footsteps followed. As I entered, I heard glass crunch beneath the soles of my shoes. I looked down to see a heap of glass and salt. No, no, no! I was out of time. At that moment, I decided to sprint out of the backdoor and seek refuge elsewhere. Once I reached the door, I swung it open and began running as fast as I could. Why don’t I hear footsteps? I turned to look back and saw my bedroom door open. It can’t be. I turned and saw that I was back in the hallway where the game had begun. I felt a hand on the rear of my neck. “You can’t run from the Midnight Man.”
Image Courtesy: Know Your Meme
Breaking News: Jesse Smith-Martin, 27, was found dead this morning in his Jackson, Wyoming home. The details of the scene are gruesome, he was discovered disemboweled with a letter that read “Thanks for the invitation”. No other clues have been discovered at the scene. The suspect remains at large.
Strike Out,
Writer: Lucas Zaret
Editor: Jayna O
Tallahassee