Steps. Whispers. Take another step. The music speeds up. You can’t keep up with him. The Midnight Walker, there he is. Running, racing, he’s plowing through. The Midnight Walker, here he comes. For your family, for your friends. For your life and your breath. Run, baby, you better run. He’s chanting faster. Screaming. Choked echoes… Fading in and out, louder. He’s hanging over you, friend. Taloned hands, sharp teeth, daggers. The Midnight Walker, now he attacks. Fanged and uncloaked, there he is. You didn’t see it coming, no. Blood and gore, you lay. Broken and beat. No whispers. Silence.

"GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!" (to save it from being shadow banned.)

“Get out of my house! Now Dan!”I grunt. “Marlee we have a job, and we need you to do it! Please? It’s just one thing!” Dan begs. I don’t know what he’s thinking I did ‘a job only I could do’ and it got my husband killed. “Dan, my kids are more important than money! They could get hurt!” “Look I know your still worried after what happened with Wyatt but-” I slam my hands onto the table. “What happened to Wyatt was no casualty!” “You know that’s not what I meant, Marlee-” “But it is! He’s just another bump in the road! Well my children will be home soon, and I’d rather keep my old life separate from my new! So leave.” “But you have to do this one!” Dan turns back to begging. And my front door opens, Naomi and Isaac walk through slinging their bags onto the floor. My seven year old twins, same olive skin, brown eyes, black hair, just like their father. Except unlike his sister, Isaacs arms are more bruise than skin. “Momma the teacher says we can’t go back for three whole days!” Naomi whines. “What happened, baby?” I raise my eyebrows . “Sawyer was making fun of Isaac and I-” “She socked him mom! It was the coolest thing I ever saw!” Isaac smiles real big. “Nomes…” “You should’ve seen him! He was being a real big jerk! I’m sorry, I just, Isaacs my twin, him getting bullied is like me getting bullied!” “Nomes your not in trouble! Thank you for standing up for him, but next time just tell an adult, ok?” “For real?” Naomi’s fretted face shifts to a smile.
“For real.” I smile back. Then Dan clears his throat. “Oh this is Dan. He’s an old….friend.” “Hello!” Dan smiles something in between a real and fake smile. “Why don’t you guys go do any homework you have, no TV until we talk more about school ok?” “Yes mam.” I watch as they scurry into the playroom, then Naomi runs back to get the bags. Once I’m sure they’re gone I turn to Dan. “What makes you so sure only I could do it?” “The subject is-” He’s cut off by my phone ringing. Ugh. The school. “If you’ll excuse me, Hello this is Marlee Smith how may I help you?” “I’m not sure if you’re aware but your children have been suspended for the next three days.” “Why?” “At recess a child was picking on Isaac and Naomi retaliated, socking the young man in the face.” “And my son is suspended why?” “Well the young man said that he was only picking on Isaac because he stamped on his foot.” “And you believe him because?” “Well, Sawyer I believe was his name, claimed that after breaking into tears because of the black eye your daughter gave him!” That’s my girl. “Was Sawyer suspended?” “No but-” “Well, my son came home covered in bruises, caused by Sawyer and was suspended, and Sawyer went home without a single mark on his record. I agree my daughters actions were unjustified but so were Sawyer’s, she saw something wrong and stopped it unlike your lazy staff! Now I didn’t raise my daughter to back down when she saw something wrong, and your staff shouldn’t either! I’m very well aware that my children are not cool among their peers, but that does not grant favoritism from the staff! So either you clean up your system or we’ll leave it! Actually no matter how hard you try I don’t think you can fix your sorry excuse for a school. Goodbye. Don’t contact me again!” I huff. “What the heck did I just witness?” Dans eyes are wide. “Motherly instinct, now WHAT makes it so important that I do this? HUH?” “We found the man who killed Wyatt.” “What, what uh did you say?” I whisper, Niagara Falls building up in my eyes. “Here’s the file, moneys already in there, evidence is as well should you want reassurance, do what you want with it.” Dan drops a file onto the table. “Good day.” I nod as he walks out, not sure what to say. But I know what to do. I pick up my phone dialing my late husbands old friend. “Marlee? What can I do for you?” “You still do detective work right?” “Yes. Why?” “I have something for you.”

Get out of my house! I usually don’t say that anyone. No one really comes over to my house. I am secluded from this world like a prisoner in solitary confinement, but I have chosen my sentence. Each and every letter and word of it. Hard cold blue eyes turned teary eyed like a puppy at my harsh words. Who knew such a person could break so easily. I almost felt bad for what I had done. Ashamed of the words that rolled off my lips and stuck almost like knives in the heart of what one would call a guest. This wasn’t a guest. The blue eyed bastard was more cunning then a snake, more manipulative than a mongoose, if mongooses shared such a trait. Angels could be the devil in disguise and this baby fat cherub looking youth could have easily grown horns and walked over with a darn pitchfork. He know what he did. I could almost see the mischievous smile behind those teary eyes. He sniffed and rubbed off the perspiration leaking from his eye wholes. I wouldn’t have been surprised if a forked tongue sprung from his mouth and hacked up the bullshit he was keeping inside. “I’m sorry” he said “Sorry, my ass.” I shouted my face growing hot, as i whipped the front door and slammed it in his face as hard as I fucking could. Breathing heavy i leaned on the front door, winded with Olympic gold winning door shutting performance. That son of a bitch knows what he did. I’ll raise all hell and a hand basket to get him to admit what he had done. Sleep feel on top of me like a fallen angel, now it was my time to cry with fatigue and anger. How could he do such a thing to me. I didn’t even want to think about it as I dragged myself into bed. Hitting the bed with a thump and losing myself to cool pillows and soft blankets I feel swiftly into sleep faster than a crackhead snorting white stuff outside a Denny’s in mid July.

“Get out of my house!” I screamed. My neighbor had just forced himself in my apartment, although I had secured a chain lock on the door. I was terrified and trapped like a scared animal. I could not escape unless I went out the window. I lived on the 6th floor, so that would have killed me to jump. This had begun as just an uncomfortable encounter with a guy who lived a couple doors down from me. He was drunk and had decided I should get with him. I told him no, but he just wouldn’t take that for an answer. I managed to keep a safe distance so he wouldn’t touch me. He kept coming closer,all the while letting fly a stream of obscenities. I’d had it. I grabbed an iron skillet off the stove and whacked him on the head. Then I called the police.

“Get out of my house!” I roar like a lion. I stare intently, glossing over and over and over again.

The man, staring back at me, unphased by my anger sees through my hollow rage.

He haunts me Hunts me down Follows me wherever I go.

He smashes my spirit Kills my ego And chokes the life out of my hopes and dreams.

He’s there with me, Taunting me Menacingly.

Yet,

He’s the only one who has been there for me Seen my torment And picked up the pieces of a shattered soul.

“I hate you.” I murmur. “ I hate you too.” He says.

The love hate relationship we have is more bittersweet than most lives can bear, but we openly embrace each other as the shadow and light dynamic we are. Like the Yin and Yang of a fated ordination.

“Goodnight old friend.”

I turn off the lights to the bathroom

For the mirrors are for the shadows

“Get out of my house !”, he screamed as he frantically ran towards the bathroom.

I was already blocking the door before he even took two steps forward. His horrified eyes and quivering lips made me fall in love with him all over again. There’s something about that sad scared look that gives me all the feels.

“Leave me alone !”, he screams again as he runs past me towards the front door.

Once again, I’m there in a flash, “ Its too late for that Chris. You already invited me in and you know now what I am. I’m sorry I can’t let you go.” 

“Please don’t kill me”, he whispers as he slowly backs away from me. 

“Chris, My love, when have I ever tried to kill you?”, I ask as I veer him towards the couch. 

“You know I keep you around to quench my blood thirst, and bonus you’re super cute.”, I tell him as I give a little wink.

  Paralyzed from fear, Chris falls back onto the couch with a scared look of not knowing what’s coming next. 

“I just wish this could have been the one time you’re not terrified and you would have accepted me.

I sit on his lap as I hold his head in my hands, directing his eyes on mine,”Don’t worry Chris my love we’ll get there. But for now, I need to make you forget for the tenth time. When you wake, you’ll feel tired from the lack of blood, but you’ll be happy and relieved that I’m here to nurse you back.” 
 
I give him the look that subdues him every time and sink my fangs into his neck. 

“Anything for you My love”, Chris manages to whisper in a monotone voice.

“Get out of my house” my voice was eerily calm as I confronted him. This man. The man I thought I loved, the man I did love, the man I thought could be the one. “Shit Madeleine, I didn’t mean it, I… you know I… I didn’t meant it.” His hand was shaky, as he rested it on the kitchen island. He wasn’t making any move to leave. I repeated myself, louder and slower this time. “Get. Out. Of. My. House.” He looked up at me almost like he was shocked that I was still telling him to leave even after his bullshit apology. “What the hell do you want from me!?” He yelled. “I said I was sorry!”

“Sorry!?” My voice broke. “That’s your excuse?? That your sorry?!” I couldn’t hold back the tears, I hadn’t wanted him to see me cry, but I couldn’t hold them in anymore. They streamed down my face, a few of them splashing on to the floor. “You said you loved me David… you said you wouldn’t leave… Dammit! You said I could I trust you!” My face was flushed red and stopped trying to maintain any sort of dignity. “You fucking knew… you knew my past… you knew my story and you still chose to go and fuck her.”

“Look I know… I know I fucked up but she’s just some dumb whore, I was stressed it was late, she’s just a fucking prostitute, hell she was probably high while it was happening… it didn’t fucking matter… Maddie you know I love you…”

I stared at him. Could he really not know? Could he really have payed so little attention to my life and my stories that he didn’t know.

“What?” He asked. I just kept staring.

“Maddie what?” He was getting irritated.

“Dammit Maddie say something!!”

When I finally managed the words they were almost a whisper. “get. out.”

“get out of my house!”

my husband grabbed his gun from behind the bookshelf as he bellowed this phrase down the hall. i knew his heart was beating heavily. mine was.

i snuggled my six-month old daughter closer into my chest and listened to her breath softly. as far as she knew, she was safe. and it would stay that way as long as i could help it.

i heard his steps thump down the hall, and i thought about how he was holding our entire lives in his hands. my heart was his heart. my soul was his soul. my daughter was my heart, and my husband was my heart. if i lost one of them, i lost both of them. i said a quick prayer to Jesus and whoever else would listen and clutched my baby girl closer.

whoever had shattered the glass door was about to be shot. i heard my husband cock the gun as he closed the door to the bedroom. i knew he had complete control over what happened next. all i could do was trust and breathe.

we had been sleeping soundly, until the sound of glass shattering woke us both simultaneously. he was gone in a flash, only saying “stay here. i love you.” and scooting Sloane towards me. my heard was pounding inside my skull, my whole body rigid, terrified.

i waited for what seemed like hours, but probably only minutes. i heard nothing. i was terrified. my baby was safe in my arms, and i was safe in bed.

i heard footsteps.

the door handle twisted.

a crack of light came in.

“dale?” i tentatively whispered, PRAYING it was him.

“love? it’s okay. it was just a tree branch, you’re okay. we’re okay.”

i breathed a sigh of relief.

thank you Jesus.

good thing it was summer, the screen door was still in tact and was the only thing preventing anything else from getting in.

he crawled back into bed after setting the gun away, kissing me and our daughter, who grunted softly in response. his arm was around me, his hand in mine.

we were safe. we were safe. we were safe.

i eventually fell back asleep thanking Jesus for a loving husband and a safe bedroom.

we were safe.

Get Out Of My House! Was scrawled in block letters along the side of the old Chuck E. Cheese. Smashed dolls and a conspicuous blood stain decorated the handicapped ramp. Hands raised, I approached slowly. The two guards at the front door raised the automatic rifles when I stopped. Both were built like dump trucks, one with a gnarly face tattoo and the other with two gnarly face tattoos. “State your business,” the one tattoo guard said. “Well I have had warmer welcomes. What’s shakin, bacon?” I tossed the guards my friendliest smile. One flipped his rifle, jabbed my guts with his rifle’s butt, and flipped the rifle back aimed at my face. Now I knew to curb my hilarity. “I’ve a golden ticket, sport. Your boss wouldn’t like me damage.” Two tattoos frisked me taking my side arm, rifle, and brass knuckles. Carefully he examined the cd tied to my throat and then waved me into the restaurant. The rooftop must’ve been retrofitted with solar panels because the joint was lit. There were red and orange booths, video consoles, pinball machines, and I think skeetball. When I was little in the before times I went to a kid’s birthday party at one of these. I turned in wonder at the blinking lights and carnival music. Nestled in the back amongst the animatronic animals sat the Candyland. Smiling widely I sauntered over. A tall skinny guard stopped me for a carefully search. As her fingers trailed my body I clocked the eyes of each member of the gang. Mostly muscled men and a few tough as nails broads in a semi circle. The biggest man spoke up, “What do you have to offer worthy of the Candyland? You and your sickly partner hide in a hole. Your little bag of toys, we could rock your stash any time we wanted.” I read their hard faces, these were the eyes of grunts, infantrymen. There was suspicion and hostility. Only one held the shrewdness of a general. I reached for a chair turned by back to the henchmen and focused on the queen, the guard who frisked me. “I know I can be found. I also know you have a well developed infrastructure for candy delivery. I can help you expand your market with my contacts and sales background. You’re a steel fist, Miss Wonka, let me be your velvet glove,” I said extending my hand. The guard, a little older than me, leaned back in surprise. “Nice casting by the way,” I gestured towards the bulky faux boss. Wonka watched me and then shook my hand. “Maybe you will live up to you hype Santa Baby, call me Willie.”

“Get out of my house. Get, shoo”, the old woman flailed her hands as she squawked, the rolled newspaper in her hand colliding with Evans chest painfully.

Evan stared down at the woman standing on his doorstep, absolutely dumbfounded.

“I…er….what?”, he managed to sputter, still half asleep. He had been upstairs in his bed catching up on some much-needed sleep after a full night of bartending , only to be awoken by the sound of the doorbell and a crazy woman at his doorstep.

The woman crossed her stout arms and frowned up at him.

While Evan was tall and lanky, towering over most people, this woman was so unbelievably tiny in comparison, that she must’ve been shorter than average.

With her silvery hair coiled in purple rollers and a bright pink fluffy robe wrapped around her body, she looked positively terrifying. A perfect embodiment of the attention seeking loudness Evan liked to avoid.

“Well? Are you planning to rob me or something? If you were then tough luck. My husband, Gary, keeps our valuables in a safe down at-“

She suddenly stopped speaking and narrowed her eyes, piercing Evan with her gaze. “Oh, I’m most definitely not telling you the name of my bank”, she finished.

Evan leaned against the doorframe and matched her stance, his arms crossed defensively in front of him. He really should’ve covered up more before answering the door, he thought suddenly.

Did answering the door in boxers and arguing with an old woman at said door, count as public indecency? Certainly not he hoped.

“First off, I don’t want to know about Gary and his bank or whatever, and secondly, this is my house”, Evan stated slowly. For extra emphasis he gestured to the floor mat beneath the woman’s feet. Surely a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles doormat in the suburbs was a rare enough décor choice that this woman wouldn’t have the same.

The old woman looked down, shuffling around in her fluffy slippers to get a better look at the mat.

She tucked the newspaper under one arm and bent down to picked up the mat between her index finger and thumb as though it were the most disgusting thing she had ever seen. She tossed it aside and Evan watched, mouth agape as the mat slid down the porch stairs and onto the sidewalk.

“Hey! What gives you the right to-“

But the woman cut him off by swatting his arm again with the newspaper. Evan gritted his teeth in frustration. It took every ounce of energy to restrain himself from punting the old woman across the street. She was seriously starting to get under his skin.

“Look mam, I think you are just confused, if you need help finding your home, I’m more than willing to help you”, Evan said finally between gritted teeth. He had taken one ethics class before dropping out of university years ago, he might as well put that nonsense $700 class to work and at least attempt to take the moral high road.

The woman let out a shrill laugh, her face scrunching up and glasses sliding down in the process.

“No Deviant, this is my house”, she said once her laughter subsided.

Evans eyebrows rose up his forehead, almost reaching his hairline in surprise.

“Um, no. This is myyy house”, Evan corrected her, jabbing a finger into his chest.

“I pop out of the house for one second to grab the newspaper from the lawn and suddenly you deviants see it as an opportunity to break into a little old lady’s house. Ridiculous”, she says in exasperation.

Evan swallowed hard, forcing away a lexicon angry profanities. He was irritable, tired, and was in dire need of a shower. He didn’t have the time nor the energy to deal with all of this. Evan leaned forward, popping his head out enough to glance quickly at the houses lining the street.

As expected, the old woman practically jumped away at his nearness and clutched her chest in disdain; Evan rolled his eyes at the dramatic gesture.

He pointed to the house directly across the street, the only house currently missing a newspaper on its front lawn.

“Are you sure that’s not your house over there?”

The woman whipped around so fast that Evan was sure she’d topple over, and stared at the house Evan was pointing to.

She squinted her eyes at the house for a few long seconds before suddenly turning her head back in Evans direction. Evans heart nearly stopped at the sight of her beady blue eyes suddenly puncturing him once more. Even tucked behind wiry glasses, the woman had some seriously unnerving eyes, Evan thought. Like a hawk or a predatory bird or something.

She was quiet for a while, so long that Evan was sure she was waiting for him to say something.

But then, her shrill voice, much louder than before, let out a scream that practically woke the whole neighbourhood.

Evan winced and blocked his ears with flattened palms until the screaming finally ceased. Unfortunately, that left her vocal cords free to speak once more.

“Thief! Deviant! This man is trying to rob me”, she screamed, “he’s trying to fool me and convince me this house isn’t mine, but I know my red door. I know this is my house”.

Evan sighed, unsure if it was even worth mentioning that yes, she did in fact have a red door, but so did he- and everyone else on this block.

Living in tract housing, unsurprisingly, meant that all the houses on this block looked the same.