The Novella Life of Illuscia Nester Himawari

At first, it was a blink. But then it was a stare. They would look right at me from the corners of their eyes. I tried to ignore them and go about my business, but it became difficult each day. I was new to this retail job, so I didn’t make friends very quickly amongst my co-workers. I suppose they didn’t like to hear me complain, so I tried to keep to myself while I folded clothes. But they became more blatant. They would turn their heads towards me and bore holes through me with their cold glare. I thought I was only seeing things, but a glance in their direction confirmed it: their heads were turned and they were staring right at me. I was frightened by them. Did they treat everyone this way, or just me? Sometimes they would follow me with their eyes as I passed. Sometimes they turned their heads and looked down on me. I would bite my lip to fight back the tears. I got too close one day. She acted normal while I changed the clothes on the display, so I risked a glance. She was look

I sat up in the darkness of my room, frightened. Some noise from the land of the waking had jolted me out of unconsciousness. Groggy, I reached across to the nightstand, turning my alarm clock toward my face. The dim numbers read 3 AM, and I groaned. So much for a good night’s sleep. Forgetting what had awoken me, I rolled over and settled back into bed… but there it was again. It was a thump from the attic above me, loud and deliberate. There was another. It sounded as though someone (for surely it was a person, no house settles in a manner so resembling footsteps) was attempting to make me aware of his presence, almost toying with me. I bolted upright, adrenaline pumping. Someone was in my house. The thumping stopped somewhere above my closet. Slowly, I stood up in the darkness of my room, the illumination of the alarm clock extending no further than the night stand upon which it sat. Slowly, I worked my way out of my room and down the hall, heading for the storage closet, and grabb

I work at a gas station in rural Pennsylvania. It’s a boring job, but it’s pretty easy and it pays all right. A few weeks ago, this new guy started; I’ll call him Jeremy. Jeremy is weird. He’s about 25 or 26, and he hardly speaks, but he’s got the creepiest laugh I’ve ever heard. My boss and I have both noticed this, but it’s never been a problem, so there’s not much we can do about it. Customers have never complained about him, and he’s always done his job fairly well. Up until a few weeks ago, anyway—that’s when things started going missing. Employee theft can be a problem at any business that sells consumer goods, and there’s only one person working at a time at this gas station (it’s a pretty small place). About two weeks ago, my boss started noticing that we were short on motor oil. At first, it was a few containers at a time, then entire shelves and boxes from the back room. Pretty soon entire shipments would be gone the day after we got them, and it would always be right after