He’s here. Again. Like clockwork. Every year. I don’t know what’s so special about today, nor why he comes here, nor why he just stares without saying anything. He just sits there. And somehow… it’s always, eerily, raining. Every. Year. Like clockwork. He comes with his umbrella and stares and somehow even if it was light and sunny 10 minutes prior, when he showed up it’s raining. I don’t get it.

I’m 24 now and still living with my parents. It’s a struggle. On one hand I enjoy hanging out with my parents, on the other hand… I’m 24 and I’m tired of the nagging, the controlling, and the misunderstandings. I want to live my own life. But, well, I guess I just haven’t figured out exactly what I want to do. I have so many ideas. It’s complicated. But it’s not the “I’m a nerd who plays video games in the basement” kinda trope- just a “haven’t found my way, being proactive about finding it but nothing coming to fruition yet and helping my parents out” kinda thing.

… hmm I think I just got an idea. So that whole proactive thing? Well it doesn’t necessarily come easy to me. But what if I talked to the dude in the rain? He’s creepy. For sure. But I also can’t stop thinking about why he’s here. So maybe it’s high time I figured it out instead of waiting around. It’s not like my parents notice him. EVER. I’ve asked. Maybe I’m starting to see things. Idk.

I looked out the window and saw him still standing there. Before I could talk myself out of it, I grabbed my hoodie and put it on. I grabbed my cell phone and my pocket knife, too. Cuz who knows what’ll happen, right? I reached for the door and as I opened it, the guy appeared on my front porch. Thinking about how that’s impossible and how it must just all be in my head, I opened the door all the way when he takes his bony hand in a fist and starts to open his hand as he raises his arm. One by one his fingers unclench from his palm and suddenly a blue butterfly appears out of nowhere. My gaze it drawn to it. Mesmerized, I can’t take my eyes off of it as it flutters it’s wings and comes toward me. It stopped in midair right in front of my face- then vanished. So did the guy.

But there was a note on the ground.

“Your future awaits. Don’t dawdle.

Meet us at 234 Dracon Boulevard in 3 hours.”

At this point I was both intrigued and freakishly creeped out. Realizing I was still standing like a complete idiot with the door open, I closed it.

I read and reread the note again.

This is stupid. I mean, come on. Helloooo stranger danger. From a creep that has stood outside your house the same time every year. It felt like a prank. Or my mind conjuring things up because of my love of Harry Potter as a kid. Only this wasn’t a lovable Hagrid.

The picture of this guy’s long, pale face stayed in my head. None of this felt quite right but it didn’t feel quite wrong either.