#include<stddisclaim.h>

This is my first story post. It's just something that came to me yesterday. It wouldn't leave me alone, so I had to write it down. Then it still wouldn't leave me alone, so I decided to post it here. If you like it, great. If you don't, then I'm sorry you wasted your time reading it.

Standard Net_Story copyright stuff: Feel free to redistribute in unaltered form and print for personal use, all other rights reserved.

BTW-FWIW-IMHO: Life is subject to notice without change.

9/17
Dear Diary,

Something happened some weeks ago that I didn't even tell you about. I thought it was my imagination, a hallucination or something. I thought if I didn't talk about it and I didn't write about it, it would go away. But it didn't go away. I can't stop thinking about it.

Maybe if I tell you about it, I'll get it off my chest and I can stop thinking about it.

Well, here goes...

You remember that jerk, Derek? I had to walk back from his apartment. I can't believe he wouldn't even let me use his phone, just because I wouldn't let him use my body. What a pig.

Anyway, I already told you about him. But I never told you what happened after I left his pig pen. I just walked out. I was going to walk to the nearest pay-phone or taxi station or whatever. Of course, it was around 11:30, and there were no taxis patrolling there. The first phone was broken. When I gave up on that one, I noticed some scruffy, greasy guy in really cheap biker gear. He was watching me, but that's not what scared me. When I moved on to find the next phone, he followed me. He was about half a block behind (the blocks here were rather small) and he wasn't getting any closer. He just followed at the same distance.

I kept looking over my shoulder and wondering where I could run to if he did start getting closer.

Then I found another phone, and picked it up. I kept an eye on him, to make sure, and he stopped again, half a block away. This phone at least gave a dial tone, but it wouldn't accept my quarters, so I kept going, still keeping an eye on Greasy. He must have known I knew he was there, I was kinda obvious about looking over my shoulder at him. I guess I must have been moving faster all the time, because when I found another phone, I had to catch my breath. But this time he didn't stop.

He was walking quickly, almost jogging, right toward me. I ran. I didn't know where I was going to, I only knew what I was running from. It was dark, and I didn't know this part of town, and it seemed like he and I were the only ones on the street.

All of the sudden, someone or something grabbed my arm and swung me into an alley. Then there was a hand over my mouth. I was too confused to do anything but stare at the man in front of me. I could just barely see him in the moonlight, but that was more than I wanted to see. He must have been about six feet tall and easily twice my weight. His fashion sense was a little better than the other guy, but not much.

And then he pulled out a knife and pushed me back against the filthy wall of the alley, his huge, dirty hand still covering my mouth.

"Where ya goin' so fast, honey?"

I ran right from one into the other. They probably worked together. But I didn't have time to worry about that. Something was happening behind him, in the shadows. The shadows started taking form. They gradually congealed into a vaguely manlike shape. I felt the knife against my cheek and looked down at it. It was one of those big, funny-looking hunting knives, and it felt like he kept it sharpened. I looked back up at the figure behind my attacker, and I guess I just forgot to think after that.

The thing behind him was even taller, I couldn't tell how tall. And it was completely black, except for a dark grey face. Even the eyes and the hair were black. I could only see it because it was even blacker than the shadows in the alley. It seemed to be wearing some kind of cloak. It could have been a trenchcoat or something, I couldn't tell. But it suddenly flapped out behind him, and it made no noise. No sound at all.

Then the thing spoke. It had gleaming white teeth, and fangs. And its voice was like gravel in a blender. I'll never forget that sound as long as I live. It echoed in a way that I've never heard before. There was some kind of resonance that reached right into me. The only way to describe it is like hearing the voice in my ears and then the echoes in my mind. And it was incredibly cold.

"Hiya, Frankie."

The big guy half-turned, suddenly, his knife cutting into my cheek. I jerked, but his hand was still on my mouth, and the side of his body had me pinned against the wall. He pointed the knife at this phantom, or specter, or whatever.

"What? Who are you?"

"You know me Frankie."

Suddenly, one of the phantom's arms shot up and knocked the knife out of Frankie's hand. Then the other hand slashed out, and I saw long claws make several gashes in Frankie's face. He howled, let go of me, and tried to throw a punch at the thing. I couldn't move. I was literally scared stiff.

The thing moved and turned, and threw Frankie into the other wall of the alley. I heard his skull go squish against the bricks, and when he started to fall back, the thing kicked out, making some sound like a wild animal, and I heard a sickening sound that I couldn't identify. And I really don't want to know anyway. Frankie was crumpled on the ground, not moving.

Then it looked at me. Those black eyes just looked right through me, and I felt so completely cold. It was like this phantom was freezing my soul with his eyes. And I couldn't move.

The guy who was chasing me before jogged, panting, into the alley, with a gun.

"Hey, buddy. That bitch is mine," he panted. "I saw her first. I was chasing her."

"Oh, really?" the thing growled. "You want her?"

The greasy guy stopped for a moment when he heard that voice, but then he stepped further into the alley. "Yeah. I'm gonna teach that teasin' cunt what's good for her."

"Ha!" the thing barked. Then it threw its head back, looking up at the moon, like it was going to howl, then its right hand snapped up to its forehead in a loose fist. In the same split second, it shouted something unintelligible as it looked back at Greasy and threw its arm toward him, fingers and claws stretched out. Even more unbelievable that anything that had happened yet was the bolt of pitch black lightning that arced from that clawed hand to the greasy man's chest. It left a bright blue afterimage on my eyes as I just watched, not even thinking. Now that I can think about it, there was no thunder to go with that lightning. Only the explosive sound the specter shouted and the last surprised yelp from the other guy.

Greasyman was knocked back out onto the street on his back. By the glare from the street lights, I could see how badly charred and smoking his body was.

It looked back at me, then closed its eyes and swung its head back and forth, sniffing. Satisfied, of what I don't know, it lowered its head and seemed to relax. It actually shrank before my eyes, until it was about 5'9". When it looked up again, it seemed somehow more real. All this time, it had looked no more real than a shadow. Like it wasn't even really there. Now it looked real. The eyes were still black, but now it looked more like a man dressed all in black than a shadow with a slightly lighter face.

"Are you all right?" The voice was deep, but not gravel any more. No echo, no chilling resonance. It held out its hand.

I must have turned and stumbled back away from it, because the next thing I knew, I tripped and fell backward, landing on my butt on the ground, with the wall at my side.

It looked down, dropping its hand. Then it looked back at me. Its, or rather his eyes were so deep and dark. There was an infinite sadness behind those eyes. Like eyes that have seen everything there is and don't want to see any more.

"He cut you." I saw teeth, but no fangs now. He traced his finger across his cheek, staring into my eyes. There was something else in his face now. Intense concentration, and pain. My cheek stopped hurting, and it felt weird. I reached up, and there was a lot of blood, but no soreness. I couldn't find the cut.

"Go home," he whispered. He closed his eyes, bowed his head, and started to step back into the shadows. I must have fainted. Everything faded to black, and then I woke up in my bed. I was still wearing the same clothes.

I got up and looked in the mirror. There was some dry blood on my right cheek, and a little on my pillow, but no cut. Not even a hint of one. And it wasn't from a nose bleed, there was no blood there.

All that was a month ago. Nothing weird has happened since, but everybody thinks I'm acting weird. I guess I am. I don't talk to anybody any more. I don't know whether to tell them about this. I can't get it out of my mind, but I know they'd think I'm going crazy.

Maybe I am. No, they found those two bodies. And they couldn't explain either death. One man was burned to death by electricity, and nothing around him was affected. The other was smashed up pretty bad and some expert thought the marks on his face were from some kind of wolf. That really did happen, but nobody else knows how.

So, since there's evidence that it really did happen, I'm not crazy. Probably. Unless I'm imagining the news. No, that's too much. I'm not crazy. It did happen. But I can't tell anyone about it. Nobody would believe me. What should I do?

Karen put the pen down and just stared at the little book for a while. It didn't have any answers this time. And neither did she.

"And what should I do?" she asked quietly. Karen closed the little book with a sigh. She thought about blowing out the candle, but decided to let it burn a little longer. Writing in her diary by candlelight was something she loved to do, but only for special entries.

There was a little alarm-clock radio on her night stand, locked with masking tape to her favorite station. She got up from her desk, switched the radio on, and flopped back onto her bed.

A love song was playing. She didn't know its name. She knew the song, though. She started to hum with it, then remembered that it was one of the last songs she heard with Jack. He was the last one she had written about by candlelight. Her life had really fallen apart since then. Jack had been really good to her, and really good for her, and just really good, but one day he just disappeared. She never found out why. The rest of his band still hasn't heard from him, either. The police said he's not missing, just not here. Somehow they don't notice how much sense that doesn't make.

Part of her still hoped he would come back, even after more than a year. Part of her kept saying that she should get on with her life.

But she didn't know how. Everything was a mess. She hadn't had a steady job in a long time. She had alienated her family long ago and wanted to keep it that way. She never had many friends, and she lost touch with most of them each time she moved. And Lynn was so far away, and she thought that Karen didn't want to talk to her either, because she wouldn't say what was wrong.

"Jack was the last good guy, and he went away. And now I'm going crazy. What's next?"

The love song had ended, and she still wasn't sure what the name of it was. The song that was on now was one she knew, though. It was Blue Oyster Cult's "Don't Fear (the Reaper)." She had always loved this song. She hummed along with the chorus, then started singing with the second verse.

"Romeo and Juliet are together in eternity. Forty thousand men and women every day, like Romeo and Juliet."

The music continued without her, because she was crying. 'Romeo is gone,' she thought. 'Forty thousand every day, but no one for me. So alone. Lonely. Why did he have to go away? Not even a note. And now I'm alone. I'll always be alone. I don't want to dream alone any more.'

That last was from a poem she found somewhere. It was scrawled on an envelope left in her booth in some fast food place. It wasn't even signed. It was the loneliest thing she had ever seen. Until that night a month ago. The look in her phantom savior's eyes when she moved away from him. She could still feel his loneliness as black as his cloak around him.

The second chorus ended, and the third verse began. Her throat was still too tear-choked to sing, but she listened, like she always did.

"Came the last night of sadness, and it was clear that she couldn't go on. The door was open and the wind appeared."

She suddenly felt a breeze come up from her balcony. She had left the door open.

The candle on her desk flickered and went out.

The curtains on either side of the balcony door blew, and then he was standing there in the light of the full moon, the man in black.

He held out his hand, and she ran to him, and she had no fear.

He put his arm around her, and stepped out the door, then they were flying. She recognized him now.

He was Jack.

They looked backward and waved goodbye, as her radio echoed their departure with the last words of the song.

"She had become like they are. Come on, baby. Don't fear the Reaper."