I emerged from the outside office door into the dead of night. A street light flickered reminding me that I did not want to stay late at work tonight. It is the one night that the strangers in the shadows would creep up on you and do the unimaginable. I wish I knew what that was but I didn’t have much of imagination but figured it must be bad for it to be a saying. _Why had my boss asked me to stay late tonight, and more importantly had I said yes _I thought to myself.

When I took the first step out the door I heard the scurrying of what I know must be some creepy little animal run down the alley. _Who in their right mind puts the exit of an office building out into an alley _I thought to myself. I had been thinking to myself a lot ever since I had said I would stay late.

I walked along the wall making sure to try and stay out of the sight of anyone who might be out here to kill someone. I am such a worry wart and scaredy cat. I just need to get to my car so I can get out of this situation. I continued to move down the alley when someone appeared out from behind the large dumpster on my left. They stared at me. I only know they were staring because I could see the shining of their eyes as they cut through the darkness. I couldn’t tell what color they were, and I didn’t care and turned to go the other way when I saw another figure appear at the other end of the alley.

My mind began to race, _what am I going to do? _my worried mind raced through ideas. I could run, but where. I could scream but who was going to hear me? I knew of only one action that I could take, and that was to fight back. I dropped my bag and prepared for battle. It was me or them. I wasn’t going to be a victim or be the coward this time.

I put my fists up and yelled “Come and get me you bastards.” The man by the dumpster moved forward and nodded at me, he put his fists up. I rushed towards him and landed a right on his left cheek. He backed up and seemed dazed, but that didn’t last long. He moved forward again and pulled a knife from inside of his jacket. The blade was long and I could see the shine of the blade from the moon light. I felt the sharp stab in my right side as the blade entered me, but I wasn’t going to go down without more of a fight. I swung again at the man who now appeared to be a giant to me and felt another stab in my mid-section.

I fell to my knees and looked up at the man. I looked up and saw the shining eyes and the last thing I heard was “Don’t walk home alone.”, and then felt the jolt of pain at the back of my head.

The dark changes people. People you think you know. People you've spent your whole life with. When walking home, especially near midnight, never walk with anyone. For your safety or theirs. Darkness is a disease, it infects anyone and everyone. It's goal is to decrease the population, one by one, murder by murder. The minds are taken to a dark, dark place. Always Walk home alone. Unless you hate the person you're walking with.

Don’t Walk Home Alone

The air was heavy with the lingering warmth of the day, but the encroaching darkness brought a sharp chill that crept through the streets. Nadia adjusted the strap of her backpack, her steps echoing through the deserted alleyway as she walked briskly toward her apartment. She told herself it was just another evening. But deep down, she knew something felt… off.

She had been warned. Everyone in the neighborhood knew the rule: don’t walk home alone after sunset. Stories of strange disappearances floated around, whispered in the shadows, but Nadia never put much stock in rumors. Tonight, though, the silence felt different—too thick, too deliberate. Even the usual hum of distant cars seemed to have disappeared.

As she passed under a flickering streetlamp, a sudden movement caught her eye—a faint shadow shifting against the wall ahead. She froze, her breath caught in her throat. The shadow wasn’t hers. It moved differently, slower, creeping along the concrete as though it had a mind of its own.

“Hello?” she called out, her voice trembling despite her attempt to sound firm. The alley offered no reply, only an oppressive stillness that made her pulse quicken. She clutched her backpack tighter and picked up her pace, her shoes tapping against the pavement.

The silhouette of a man emerged from the dim glow of another streetlamp, his figure partially obscured by the brim of a floppy fisherman’s hat. He walked at a deliberate pace, his head slightly tilted, as if listening for something. Nadia felt a strange mix of relief and unease—relief that she wasn’t truly alone, unease because the man’s movements were unnaturally smooth, almost mechanical.

She quickened her pace, hoping to pass him, but as she did, his shadow seemed to stretch toward hers, like ink bleeding across the pavement. She glanced back and found him staring—not at her, but past her, as though seeing something she couldn’t. His face was obscured by the dim light, but she could sense the intensity of his gaze.

Her heart hammered as she turned a corner, nearly breaking into a run. The shadows grew thicker, pooling in the crevices between buildings. Every instinct screamed at her to get off the streets, to find shelter, but she was so close to home. Just a few more blocks.

Behind her, she heard it: the faintest shuffle of footsteps, a rhythm that didn’t match hers. She whipped around, but the alley was empty. The man with the hat was nowhere in sight.

A sound like a whispering breeze brushed past her ear.

“Nadia…”

Her blood ran cold. She didn’t recognize the voice, but it knew her name. She broke into a sprint, her legs burning as she darted past the pools of shadow, her mind racing with a singular thought: get home, get inside, get safe.

The lights of her apartment building came into view, and relief washed over her like a wave. She fumbled for her keys, her hands shaking, and shoved the door open. The warm glow of the hallway light was a small comfort as she slammed the door shut behind her, locking it with trembling fingers.

Safe. She was safe.

Or so she thought.

As she leaned against the door, catching her breath, she noticed it—her shadow cast against the wall. But something was wrong. It wasn’t hers anymore. The outline of a floppy hat loomed over her own silhouette.

And then, the lights went out.

“Don’t walk home alone, little one, there are monsters that lurk behind every corner.” My mother always used to tell me as she kissed me goodbye. “Don’t walk alone, call or text a friend, beware monsters that wait to snatch young folks away.” My dad would tell me the day I drove off to college. “Don’t walk home alone. I’ll be there to keep you from the shadows that creep.” My love told me the day we said I do. “Don’t walk alone, my child. I will walk beside you all my days.” I told my children each time I held them for the first time. “Don’t walk alone. Though the road may be scary, I will light the way. The monsters that follow cannot enter the safety of my home.” I hear from somewhere beyond as I close my eyes for the last time.

“Don’t walk home alone alone!” My grandmother said. “Why” I asked “The boogieman will get you” “Don’t walk home alone. Always walk in groups.” “Why?” “Because it’s harder for people to get you if you’re in a group” “Don’t walk home alone, epically at night. Wait inside until we get there?” “Why?” “Because anyone could garb you and throw you in their” “Don’t walk home alone. Make sure you keep a key between each finger.” “Why?” “Your life may depend on it.” “Don’t walk home alone. If someone is chasing you yell fire. It will get people’s attention.” “Why?” “Because people care more about “fire” then “rape or help”

I was leaving the music store in the plaza near my home. I had about a ten to fifteen minute walk ahead of me. I was wearing my usual mini skirt, fishnet stockings, and tight fit shirt. A look that I loved, but definitely had a tendency to attract the wrong type of attention. While I was in the store, this very creepy guy from the neighborhood was also there. Marc was his name, and while I walked around, he pretended to be looking at records, but it was pretty clear he was following me. Music played loudly in the background, as I continued walking through the store. He always creeped me out, and I just wanted to get away from him, I thought that if I lingered long enough, he’d eventually leave. At first I tried making conversation with the owner of the store, in hopes that eventually Marc would get bored of waiting around. Instead he just tried interjecting on the conversation, and despite clear looks of disapproval, he was unphased. I went back to browsing the store, haggling with the owner, for a record I’d had my eye on. He wouldn’t budge though, so I had to leave it behind. Marc was still standing close, and with daylight starting to fade, I realized I had to leave the store and start my walk home. I said good bye to the store owner, and headed out, hoping that Marc would stay behind. He did remain inside for a minute, but eventually he was coming up behind me, the record I had been looking at in his hand. He called to me, trying to get me to slow down, telling me I could have the record if I waited for him. I started walking faster, but he stayed behind me, continuing to talk to me as I continued down the street. I was hot and tired, but I was not about to break my stride, I just had a bad feeling about him. I continued picking up my pace, he was pretty far behind me, but just kept walking and talking. My house was up a pretty steep hill, fortunately, I did a lot of walking, so getting up and down it was not hard for me. It did prove to be a challenge for Marc though, thankfully, so I was able to get up the hill and into my house before he got any closer to me. I watched out the window as he lingered outside for almost an hour, then he finally walked away.
A few weeks later my friends, James and Mike and I were waiting for another friend of ours, Matt, to get off work. We were going to walk across the plaza to meet up with Matt’s girlfriend as soon as his shift was over. Marc worked with Matt, and was supposed to be there to relive him. Time kept going by and Marc had not shown up for work, leaving Matt stuck on shift. We assumed that Robin would just make her way to us when she got off, this was before cell phones, so there was no way to let her know what was going on. Matt had run late before though, and she always showed up to wait with us. This time though, there was no sight of her. We didn’t think too much of it, Robin also got caught up at work from time to time. Guess it was just one of those days for everyone. After two hours of waiting, Marc did show up to work. He was covered in scratches and dirt, mumbling about leaving the country. He walked over to James, Mike, and me and very coldly told us that if we were waiting for Robin, she would not be coming because she was dead. Then he walked away, shaking and still talking to himself. We all just looked at each other, not really sure what to make of what had just happened. Marc was such a strange person, and no one ever put much stock in anything he said. James yelled something to him, but Marc just kept walking. Matt came outside, finally able to leave work, since Marc had showed up. He asked what Marc’s problem was, and we told him about the weird statement he had made. Matt got nervous, and we all started our way across the lot to where Robin worked, assuring Matt that she was fine, and Marc was just nuts.
We got to Robin’s job a few minutes later, her car was parked outside but there was no sign of her anywhere. We asked her coworkers, but they all told us that she had left hours earlier. We all were starting to worry now, Marc’s words echoing in our minds. We never saw Robin again. We all became people of interest in her case, everyone knowing that we always met up at the end of her shift. We quickly cleared each others names, soon becoming prime witnesses, as much as anyone could have witnessed anyway. We spoke with police, psychics, anyone and everyone that might have been able to help. We told everyone our story about Marc and the weird things he had said that day. It didn’t seem like anyone wanted to listen though. No matter what we said, they never questioned him.
Matt eventually committed suicide, never really able to get past Robin’s death. Thirty years have passed and no trace of Robin has ever been found. There have been some hopeful moments, where at least her family might be able to find some peace and lay her to rest, but nothing ever panned out. Marc still walks the streets, living as normal a life as someone like him could live. No repercussions from any part he may have taken in her disappearance. I think back to that day a lot, and further back to the day Marc followed me home. I started walking a lot less after that. Always making sure that if I was going anywhere, that I had someone with me. I often wonder if I had stopped to talk to him that day, or simply walked a little slower, could it have been me who disappeared?

They told us on day one to never walk home alone. They told us to bring a friend or ask security to walk you. I didn’t care much for company.

They told us to keep our books in our bag and keep our hands free incase we needed to drop our stuff and run. I never wanted to put my favorite books in my backpack. I didn’t want to damage them.

I’ve walked from the library to my dorm, night after night. I read true crime stories about walking home alone and the horror young people have endured.

I believe my interest in people who do horrible things made me more of a target. Fear and anxiety radiates off of me. I chew my cheek and watch for prey.

He caught me off guard. I thought he was one of the campus security guards. I didn’t know the man before me had killed a guard and thrown their body into his van. I was next in line.

Had he observed me before? Did he know I had a tendency to trust the campus guards? Was I a random pick? A simple draw of the cards? Did he know nothing other than my body language?

I should’ve asked my roommate to come get me. I should’ve have brought my mace. I should’ve crossed the street.

Please, don’t walk home alone.

The warnings my mother gave me are far beyond what the typical woman experiences. Instead of predatory men lurking around trying to catch their next meal, I deal with otherworldly forces beyond the imaginings of others. Crystals, vials of salt, ancient markings burned into my skin repel these creatures, but they don’t hide me from the knowledge of bad intentions. Their malice is made known through their soulless stares, yearnings for the kind of revenge creatures like these cannot accomplish.

Today, on all hallows eve, things may change. I don’t know what these changes may entail, but I make sure to bring more crystals with me. The walk from school to home is around five minutes. Every second is an opportunity.

I take my messenger bag and hold it close. The October wind never fails to chill my bones. As the messanger, the invisible force can carry words from time to time. This time it spoke of nothing.

When I turned the corner, black smoke materialized from the earth. I ignore it. The closest it can be to me is about thirty feet with the many items of protection I have on hand. I thought of the English homework I had to do, remembered a project due at the end of the week. School was all my brain could focus on.

Until I felt heavy breathing.

I turned my head and was met with endlessly white eyes. Their presence made sweat bead on the back of my neck. My hand wraps around a vial of salt, an inky black hand pulls it away.

“My daughter…” It’s unfamiliar, feminine voice pleaded to me. “Please…”

The creature seemed on the brink of tears.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know where she is. Maybe she’s in a graveyard somewhere, looking for you.” I gave all the sympathy I could in hopes to subside her rage. “I wish you well.”

I pulled its hand away. A searing tingle replaces the sensation. When I get home, I’ll have to enchant my satchel bag with a protection spell.

“No!”

I am pulled onto the ground by my ponytail. The back of my head throbbed as if my brain was one big metronome. Stuck in a damaged, painful rhythm. I heard the gentle noise of glass shattering. My eyes closed.

“My daughter. Please.” The words filtered through me when I wake up inside my home. Everything was quiet. The precise neatness around me without the chaos of my busy mother fills my stomach with a rotting feeling. I head upstairs for enchantments.

We store them in a particular closet next to the bathroom, which is where most accidents needing magical remedies happen. It’s small space is concealed from guests, and the only place not as organized as my mother would prefer it to be. I opened it.

Her body, with an arm outstretched in desperation, was encased in stone. Her jaw is slack, her call to me barely escaping from her tongue. I gasped.

Maybe the artifacts were more useless than I thought. So much more than a protection spell was neeed to fix this.

I hate working nights.

There’s so much that’s inconvenient about it. The sleep schedule shift, the fact that nothing is open should you like to buy something, and there is this odd sort of unreality in the atmosphere. It’s a feeling of isolation. I work for a telecom company that handles emergency repairs and things break at all hours of the day so it’s not uncommon that I may have to work nights.

Today is especially unfortunate, as my car stopped working. My best guess is the starter system as I can’t even hear a click when turning the key but I’m woefully inexperienced as to the workings of cars. Point is, I had to walk in at sunset. It’s only about a 30 minute walk thankfully, or else I’d have called for a ride.

Given that it was sunset when I walked in, I started dreading the walk home early on in my shift. I knew it would take place in darkness and though I’m not afraid of the dark per say, I don’t much like walking in it for extended periods of time. Well, nothing to be done I guess.

My shift passes without major incident. No emergency calls came in so my coworkers and I cleaned up the shop, and caught up on some paperwork. Before I knew it, it was time to head on home. I wished the guys a good weekend perfunctorily as I walked out the doors.

The streetlights were old and fairly dim, casting a jaundiced glow over their charges. Much brighter, I could see stoplights at every other intersection down the my intended path. For a while, it wasn’t too terrible. The glow of the stoplights helped and there were also many shopfronts that had at least some lighting. I am also making good time and havebeen walking for about 15 minutes. Unfortunately, there is a stretch of nothing between me and my block. Totally unlit as though a diminutive black hole lived at ground level in this stretch of road. After a brief pause I nod to myself and charge forrward.

Halfway into the darkness, I start hearing things. A light scrape behind me, is that breath over to my right? I stop and look around, seeing only the blank darkness.

Long shapes materialize all around me like so many reaching snakes made entirely of shadow. Before I can even gasp in fright they take my arms and legs and pull till I am an x in midair. One of them nears my throat and pain erupts there as I hear the wet slop of my blood and meat being devoured. I try to scream but no sound comes until the noises, shapes, and my pain fade to nothing.

“Ok next time i'm paying for drinks, you sneaky gentlemen” Matt punches me on the shoulder. 

Grinning back at him. “Don't get used to it princess, it was only a nice bonus. I’m back to ramen in a few weeks.” waving goodbye as i start the half mile walk back to my apartment. Whoever thought engineers were on par with lawyers and doctors can kick rocks for telling me that as a kid. If that were the case I'd be living right above the bars in a slick new apartment, but I instead live in a studio the size of most living rooms.

Taking a deep breath trying to relax, steam is visible. That time of the year again, I hope I can snag a nice jacket for the fall. Maybe look the part of a young professional, twirling on the side walk with a jacket flick. Love it when the cool guy does that in a movie as he walks out of the tailor in a perfectly fitted suit with cufflinks. How an archaic method of holding your shirt together became high end is beyond me.

As much as this area is starting to gentrify it's not lost on me how quickly the streets change within a few blocks. The updates have unfortunately not hit my area but maybe I made a smart investment. Tucking my hand deep in my pockets I can't help but keep my head on a swivel. Maybe I should have taken a car, a sudden chill  hits me as my mind starts to wander. Do I look like an easy target? Quickening my pace, it's only a few more blocks. I can see the bus stop that's right around the corner. Inhale, relax, you do this all the time without any issues.

The night life buzzes in my ears, while diesel exhaust assaults my nose as the bus pulls up to the stop. Ducking my head to weasel around the stop. I see a sorry looking figure stumble off the bus. The poor man has the classic marks of the homeless, jacket looks so stiff that it might start cracking. You would think a beard would provide some solace with the impending weather but his is patchy and matted, nearly creating a donut around one ear. His eyes almost seem to glow with a dull yellow light, maybe from poor nutrition. Yet there is anger there.

“Fuck you fatass, i paid just like the rest of these bums” spittle flying from his mouth as he walks backwards off the bus. Tension builds in my neck as chills break across my back, striding it out as much as I can. If i can just make the corner, maybe he won't notice me. My mind races at the possibilities. What if he has a knife or a syringe? 

“Oh don't worry pretty boy, I know you don't have shit if you walking around here” he cackles as I turn the corner. I break into a run without thinking. Fear pumping me even though I heard what he said. I eat up the remaining block, jacket billowing behind me. I launch  up the steps, fumbling with my keys in panic till a sharp pain racks my face. I’m on my butt. How the hell did that old man beat me to my own place. Blood pours down my hands. Tears blind me. 

“Oh my God im so sorry” a panicked voice breaks through my pain and anxiety induced fog. Laying my head on the concrete, sighing at my stupidity. I must have ran headlong into an opening door.

“No dont worry im just an idiot” i can't help but laugh a little.