Walking Home

“Yes dear, I’ll be right home. Yes, I have my umbrella. Yes dear. Love you too. Bye.”

You put down the phone receiver and sigh. You love your wife, but sometimes she can be a real nag.

You stand up. On your desk, papers are strewn everywhere. You couldn’t find anything if you tried.

You take your suit coat from the back of your chair. You look through the blinds of the window behind you- it’s raining. Hard. Maybe you shouldn’t wear your suite coat; it might shrink if it gets wet.

You grab your briefcase from under a pile of papers and open it. You take a small umbrella from it. You toss your coat in haphazardly, and close the case.

You walk out of your office, locking the door behind you. Your secretary’s desk is empty. You fired her that morning, due to company cutbacks.

It is almost eleven o’clock. You have been working late, trying to get a report on a recently discovered Energized Protodermis cache finished. It was only half done. Because it is late, the hallway is illuminated only by the faint emergency lights.

You reach the elevator and press the down button. It opens immediately and you step in. Finally, something goes right.

Once inside, you press the button for the ground floor. The elevator bumps as it starts to descend from the top floor. It stops at the third floor, as a fellow Onu-Matoran steps in.

“Hello, Kaj. You working late too?” you say. Kaj is one of your co-workers.

“Sure am, I was trying to write up that contract for the boss. I take it you were writing that EP report? Did you finish?” he replies.

“Yep, it’ll be on your desk tomorrow morning.” You lie. A necessary lie. Kaj is just one of the many people who would be very angry that you don’t have it finished.

“Good. That’s the biggest amount of EP ever found, it’s a pretty landmark discovery. Hundreds of scientists are going to want to know about it. That report is very important. I’m sure you did a great job on it, or we’re screwed,” he says. The rest of the descent is spent in silence.

The doors open for the bottom floor. You and Kaj step out. You start walking toward the front door; Kaj for the parking lot.

“See you tomorrow, can’t wait to read your report!” he says. Did he have to rub it in?

You stop in front of the revolving door. It is still raining. You step into the door and push. Seconds later you are standing in a torrential downpour, getting soaked. You can barely see in front of you, the rain is so thick. No stars are visible. Only clouds.

You sigh and put up your umbrella. You envy the Archivists who got to spend their time in the Museum, instead of the office. At least they didn’t have to walk home.

You begin your trek toward your apartment, six blocks away.

Block 1

It is Fall. The trees, planted sporadically along the sidewalk to add some color to the city, have lost all their leaves to the streets. Below the curb there are piles of dead leaves, sitting without a purpose.

You reflect on this as you walk down the street. The rain has lessened, so that there is more visibility than before.

Step step step

You pause. Were those… footsteps?

You look around, but see nothing. The entire street is barren. No cars, no Matoran. Only dead leaves.

You shrug it off. Just your imagination, most likely.

You continue to walk. The only sounds are those of the raindrops hitting the street, a slight breeze, a two pairs of foot steps.

Two?

You stop. Your footsteps stop. The other pair does as well. Still just your imagination. It has to be.

You start walking again. The footsteps continue

You stop again. The footsteps continue.

Block Two

The wind picks up as you cross into the next block. Leaves float through the air. One flies directly into your face, onto your mouth. You peel it off and spit, trying to clear your mouth. The leaf is probably covered in germs.

It happens again. And again. Both times you brush them off and wipe your face with the back of your hand.

The wind grows stronger. More leaves. As if you are the center of gravity, the wind causes swirls leaves around you, and only you. It’s unsettling.

The footsteps continue. The leaves continue. You continue, crossing into block three.

Block Three

You begin to sweat. Bodiless footsteps, swirling leaves- it’s all making you nervous. You sweat when you are nervous.

You wipe your Kanohi with your hand, putting your umbrella under your arm while you do so. Your handkerchief in your suit coat pocket. Perhaps you should have worn your coat after all.

If only there were someone else with you, or even just a passing Matoran. That would comfort you quite a bit.

Your prayers are answered. Just before you cross into the fourth block, you see a Ga-Matoran crossing the street. She is wearing tattered clothes, and her umbrella is full of holes.

“Good evening, sir,” she says as she passes. You’ve seen her before. She works as an undersecretary in your building, and doesn’t make many widgets. You feel sorry for her.

“Erm, wait, ma’am?” you say. She pauses for a moment, before turning. She recognizes you as a fellow employee.

“Yes sir?”

“Erm, uh, you look cold. Take my umbrella.”

She looks at you, puzzled. “But sir, what about you?”

“It’s not raining that hard. Besides, yours is full of holes.”

You extend your umbrella to her. She smiles gratefully as she takes it.

“Why… why thank you, sir!” She shakes your hand. She is obviously very happy.

She continues on her way. You smile. You’re such a generous Matoran. You turn back to the street crossing and start to cross.

"AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH-"

You stop dead in your tracks. That was a scream. A woman’s scream. Coming from straight behind you.

You turn. The Ga-Matoran is no longer visible on the sidewalk. The street is empty. The wind is suddenly dead.

The footsteps have stopped. How odd.

Then they start again. They sound further away.

It starts to rain harder.

The wind picks up again. More leaves, more swirling.

You wipe your mask of perspiration. Just your imagination. You shouldn’t stay up this late. There was no scream. Just an illusion. No footsteps. You’re tired, you didn’t drink any coffee. The leaves- just a coincidence that they’re blowing into you. There’s nothing strange about them. Nothing at all.

Block Four

Your mind races. You try to convince yourself that it’s all your imagination. There are no footsteps. The leaves aren’t blowing around. There was no scream. The Ga-Matoran is still alive.

But it’s all too REAL.

If it is real…

Who is making the footsteps?

Why are the leaves attracted to you?

Who screamed?

Was it the Ga-Matoran?

There are no answers. Only more questions.

You try to calm yourself: It’s okay. Two more blocks to go. Then you’ll be-

CRASH

You freeze. That came from behind you.

You turn and see trash cans rolling into the street. They must have come from an alley you just passed.

But how?

Then, from the same alley, you see a shadow- you wince. Then you realize what it is.

A cat.

Just a cat.

The cat runs off up the street, out of sight.

There. It was the cat who was causing the footsteps, and the cat who had knocked over the trash cans. Now it is gone, and you can continue in peace.

The footsteps start again.

As do the leaves.

As does the breathing.

Breathing?

You hear deep, raspy breathing sounds.

You turn and quicken your pace.

Block Five

As you walk faster, the breathing and footsteps get louder. They sound like they’re getting closer.

And closer.

And closer.

And closer.

Until the footsteps are as loud as your own.

And the breathing is as loud as your own.

And you feel warm breath on the back of your neck.

You stop.

As do the leaves and footsteps. But not the breathing.

Every muscle in your body tenses up.

Your heart light blinks so fast that you think it’ll burst out of your chest.

You close your eyes and turn to face the awaiting horror.

The source of the footsteps.

And the breath, which you now feel on your face. It is hot and disgusting smelling.

You open your eyes.

You scream.

There’s nothing there. Just an empty street.

You scream again, drop your briefcase in horror, and start running as fast as you can.

Block Six

You’re almost home. Almost home. Almost home…

You can see the front door of your apartment building, only a few feet away.

You trip on a crack in the sidewalk.

You fall into a pile of leaves.

You roll over to face the sky.

You scream.

What is standing over you is enough to make the hardiest Matoran scream. Its sheer appearance tears at your heart, as though it is evil embodied. You can’t stand the sight of it. Yet you can’t take your eyes off it. It gets closer…

And closer…

And closer…

Until you feel the breath- the same breath as before- on your mask.

You can’t move. You have become mad with horror.

You scream…

Slowly, it opens its mouth…