Writing Prompt

It's raining tonight, makes it hard for people to see the person that could be lurking in the shadows waiting to jump out and attack. The streets are getting dangerous especially for young girls to walk home. I pick up my pace hoping the splashes beneath my feet don't alert anyone close by. I keep my eyes ahead and carefully side eye all the shadows in between each building and alley. A bolt of lightning brightens the sky and I see a shadow in the darkness move, I pick up my pace. My feet move fast now, my head looking all around for any other person who could be looking to help.

More lightning brightens the sky, I use this opportunity to figure out what I should do...as quickly as I can I reach out and grab her arm and yank her to me "don't you dare scream" I say as I drag her back to the shadows of the alley way.

Once we are engulfed in darkness I whisper through the rain, "You really shouldn't be out here alone now should you darling..."

My prey is caught.

School had ended thirty minutes ago, and my house was a faraway sanctuary. The bus had already left, and my mother was in another country for a business meeting. My phone, of course, was dead. The isolated road, adorned with dim street lights, and the cool breeze sporadically hitting my face, added an eerie touch to the atmosphere.

I shoved my hands deep into the pockets of my coat, my eyes darting around nervously. The bushes rustled in the wind, and the street lights barely alleviated the darkness. An untouched playground loomed in the distance, shrouded in shadow. A noise behind me made me cock my head back, my heart racing. I bit my cracked lower lip, peering into the darkness. Nothing was there, but the paranoia gnawed at me.

As I walked, my eyes played tricks on me, conjuring shapes and shadows that weren’t there. I kept repeating to myself, “nothing was there,” but the mantra did little to ease my fear. Every sound, every whisper of the wind seemed amplified, feeding into my growing dread. The cold breeze felt increasingly unbearable, my hands freezing despite being in my pockets. Quiet places always made my stomach churn.

“They say, ‘Don’t Walk Home Alone,’ and now I understand why.” I muttered under my breath.

Footsteps echoed behind me, growing closer with each passing second. My heart pounded in my chest, fear clawing at my throat. I turned, my breath hitching. In the far distance, a tall silhouette emerged. My heart skipped a beat as I noticed the glint of a knife in his hand. My eyes widened in terror.

Sometimes, it’s not what’s behind you that you should fear. Sometimes, it’s where you’re headed. It's never nothing.

To my discovery, the challenges of my gender appear not only to have begun as exhaustive, but are expanding in oddity and their sinister nature with each day.

 “Well, you don’t wanna walk home alone! As another girl, I thought you’d understand?” Sheri looked at me with a tentative expression, her eyes a little wide under her false lashes which brushed against the bubble of her fringe.
 Her hair was auburn today. Her eyes remained their natural shade of chocolate and caramel candies, she was after all, a very sweet girl. The freckles that settled in their pattern beneath those eyes looked as though she’d intended to randomize them but alas, one’s hand does tend to follow the automatic when working quickly. I knew she prided herself in those interesting shifts in her looks, “a master of disguise,” she’d said with such a vivaciousness, but even budding illusionists must leave the house at a reasonable hour for their secretarial day job. 

 “What’s wrong with my walking home alone?” I asked, I never understood that sort of thing. I’d always kept myself much the same, unlike Sheri. She was taken with many fashions, frequently changing her wigs, clothes, makeup, and contacts, to suit her moods. 
 I was always quite plain. I liked it that way, and my boss Mister Beaumont certainly didn’t mind the lack of suspicion from his wife. I didn’t have to think about the plumpness of my figure or the crop of my hair, I could focus on more important things. As my mother would say, perhaps that’s why I’m so alone, and I ought to think about that when I take those last bites of my meals after work.

 “You walk home alone?! In the dark? What if some creep comes along?!” Sheri looked as shocked and disturbed as though I told her I lived some sort of double life.
 
 “I’ve never been bothered at night while walking home. I suppose I just don’t seem like a good target.” I said so, because it’s true. I’m not a good target for creeps and kidnappers, why would they want anything to do with me? I’m not exceptionally good looking, I have no value there. Besides that, I’m large, I look strong and risky to try to cross, I’d even look a bit mannish if I dressed the part.
 Sheri looked at me with an expression I never thought I’d ever see from her, not directed at me, anyhow. It was one I could only describe as admiring. 

 “Nothing scares you, does it, Cal?” She asked me, I couldn’t help but smile at her.

 “What on earth do I have to be scared of? It’s girls like you who need to worry about creeps and rapists. I don’t have the curse of a pretty figure or a penchant for the latest fashions.” 
 She smiled back at me, her smile felt so warm in this sterile office. She was leaning against the wall by my desk, as she often did. I imagine I feel like a safe presence for most girls to be around; it’s not like I’m going to outshine them, I’m not even competing with them. The electric humming of the fluorescent lights overhead gave the whole room a strange ambiance that could only be matched by the corporate specter that floated and fluttered about from building to building, haunting these places with cold summers and roasting winters. 
 My ficus bobbled a bit at the brush of her skirt, and the curling smoke of her cigarette reached up to those humming lights in the ceiling, barely perceptible against the muted grey walls surrounding us. It’s a wonder why they didn’t just leave the barriers blank, but I suppose having them painted did look finished if nothing else. 

 “Cal, you have just as much in the looks department as anyone, you just need to dress it up right. Though I suppose you may be onto something, homlier gals probably don’t have the issue of getting catcalled and followed like I do.” Sheri, always such a sweetheart. I straightened the papers for mister Beaumont on my desk, then set them aside as I pulled a new type ribbon and a pair of gloves from my drawer.

 “Well, if you’re really that worried, Sheri, I’d be happy to walk you home after work.”
 I pulled my gloves on so as not to get ink on my fingers before beginning unspooling the ribbon from its original casing and clamping the end onto my machine. I didn’t like getting my hands messy, I still dont. I caught myself thinking about how I wasn’t the biggest fan of the black and red nylon ribbons, I thought the plain black cotton ribbons looked nicer both in the machine and their typeface on the page, even though they could easily get punched through. After all, it wasn’t like we were ever going to reuse the ribbons, but I suppose mister Beaumont wasn’t exactly concerned with my opinion on aesthetics.

 Sheri seemed to perk up at my offer, which I figured she would.

 “You’d do that for me, Cal?” She asked, I nodded.

 “Why not? You’re practically on my way. I’d just need you to wait up a few minutes til Mister Beaumont relieves me, he always has a last minute note or two to leave me with so that I’m not waiting around useless in the mornings.” Mister Beaumont had an awful habit of showing up very late to the office, but I supposed the head boss could show up whenever he liked. As long as the CEO wasn’t on his way down to our regional center, there was no reason for him to be concerned with being on time. 

 “I wonder what he does every morning. He’s usually in around ten o’clock if he comes in the morning at all, right? What could possibly keep a man so long every single morning?” Sheri wondered aloud as she took a hit from her cigarette once more. I shrugged with my indifference. 

 “So long as I get paid for my full eight, I’m happy.” We both had a bit of a laugh at that, but then Sheri’s lunch break was over. We agreed she would wait for me in the lobby that evening, and I would walk her home.

 That evening, as predicted, Mister Beaumont had a few extra mentions for me that I wouldn’t be able to do until the morning.

 “Be sure to send the Fredricks’ accounting log off to the Santa Barbara office, and don’t forget to make us a copy. I’ll also need you to pick up my dry cleaning and bring it here, try to do that first thing, if you can. Oh, and if you don’t mind, while you’re on your lunch tomorrow; I need another birthday gift for my daughter. You don’t need to buy anything, but you know her sensibilities and you’re of a similar sort of..” he vaguely gestured to mh body, I nodded. I understood completely, and he nodded with a casual gratitude.

 “I’m sure I can find something suitable for her. Is there anything else I can do for you this evening?”

 “Thanks, Callissa. Feel free to head home now, you did good work today.” 

 “Thank you sir, have a good night.” I had turned to leave, but a clearing of Mister Beaumont’s throat gave me pause.

 “Callissa, how do you get home in the evenings?” He tried to keep his voice the same, but I could tell he had something else on his mind. I wasn’t sure exactly what that would be. It was a curious question, so I imagine I looked at him with a curious expression when he asked it.

 “Same way I get here in the morning, sir. I walk.”

 “At night? By yourself?” He asked, incredulous. And I imagine my face turned even more curious.

 “Yes, sir?” 

 “You can’t be serious, you can’t walk home alone this time of night on your own!” He scoffed at me. 

 He scoffed at me.

 “Why not, sir?” I asked him, and he paused. The sound of the clock above his desk was the only sound between us for a moment, for about eight seconds, to be precise. I had counted. Just long enough to be awkward, to watch him flounder a moment for the right thing to say. Admittedly, I was floundering a bit myself. He’d certainly never acted concerned about my means of transport before, why now?

 “Well, don’t you worry about creeps and such?”

 “I’ve never been bothered, myself, sir.” I couldn’t help but wonder still, why he had asked me about it. Perhaps he and Sheri had been talking? I’m sure my curiosity read on my face, but I didn’t know exactly what to ask him.

 “Well, you carry a pistol on you at the very least, don’t you? Or maybe pepper spray?”

 Another five seconds passed before I answered. “Perhaps I should start?” It felt eerie to admit that I didn’t, especially after now. Two people had asked me about walking home alone within the day, it felt like an omen of sorts. I could hear my mother now; “Don’t be so awfully paranoid, Callissa. It’s very unattractive, honestly.”

The darkness is where they thrive. They anticipate that sudden jolt of adrenaline that spikes when you hear footsteps shuffling closer and closer to you, and then suddenly holt.

They know you notice it, even when you choose to ignore the obvious signs. They can smell the fear leaking from your pours. It makes them salivate to the very thought of it.

The lonely souls that choose to walk alone are their targets, and they have many. This is a cat and mouse game.

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?