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He Has A Friend

It’s my first year of college and I’m trying to fall asleep on my top bunk. My roommate and I, Mike, share a room on the first floor. Mike and I get along great.

It’s about 2 AM and he’s been sleeping on his bottom bunk since I got home at 9 PM. I’ve been laying here for hours and I can’t keep my eyes shut. I turn on my side and look out my window. All I can see is a tree dimly lit by the moon. I’m about to turn over and try to close my eyes, but I see a dark figure peeking out from behind the trees.

“Mike” I whisper. No answer.

The figure steps out from behind the tree. I can see now that it’s a tall skinny man, but I can’t see anything from his face. He starts walking, slowly, towards the window.

“Mike!” I whisper a bit louder. No answer.

I’m about to peer down and see if Mike is awake and seeing this, but the man starts running towards us. He reaches the window and slams his face and hands on the glass. I look, in horror, at the pale, skinny, bald man smiling and staring at me with wide, motionless, eyes. I look at his hands and see he’s holding a large cleaver. I look back at him and he hasn’t broken eye contact.

I’m paralyzed with fear. I do not move, I do not speak. I don’t know how much time has passed staring at this man, when Mike gets up, opens the window and turns around, smiling.

Credits to: berbertpope


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