Jake sat bolt upright in his bed. He had been lightly dozing, the gentle pattering of the rain had put him to sleep but now it was hammering against his windowpane. But that was not what had torn him from his slumber. He looked to the window, though in the darkness he could not see anything anyway.

Jake shook his head, half in an attempt to clear it and half out of disbelief. Surely he hadn’t heard what he thought he had heard. It was just his sleep-deprived mind running wild. As his heart rate slowed, Jake laid his head back on his pillow. The moment his eyes drooped closed he was asleep.

The morning was gray and cold, just as the last one and the one before. He had moved to Tacoma in an attempt to escape the dry days of the Southwest, but after six months he understood why the locals grumbled about the rain. Jake was surprised at his desire for a sunny day.

Jake crossed his bedroom, rubbing sleep from his eyes when he stopped suddenly. His heart hammering in his chest, he backed up until he was in front of the window in his room. Slowly, Jake turned his head, not wanting to see what he thought he had seen.

Fear was replaced by relieved bemusement as all he saw was a rain-streaked pane. Just to convince himself completely, Jake bent over and breathed onto the glass. Nothing appeared in the fog it created, no handprint with spindly fingers. Shaking his head and rubbing his eyes once more, Jake set to getting ready for his day.

The cold morning air swept in the scent of freshly wetted cement and a gentle mist of rain. Jake stepped out of the apartment complex and found that the drizzle outside was a thin fog, which his umbrella would be useless against. He tucked his umbrella under his trench coat and trotted down the steps down to the sidewalk. Jake joined the mill of people weaving between each other on their morning commutes, falling into the daily rhythm of commerce. Stopping at the nearest intersection, Jake gazed across the crosswalk to the group of people gathering opposite them. Everyone had the same idea as he had and had their umbrellas tucked under their overcoats.

Losing himself in the comforting white noise of the water being sprayed behind the racing tires on the street, Jake found himself somewhat nostalgic for the drier climate of his old home. The gray and dreary morning blended with the last and the one before and so on, but then, something snapped him out of his reverie. Almost exactly across the street from him stood a man under an umbrella. What first caught Jake’s attention was the open umbrella, however the ghastly visage of its owner almost knocked Jake to the ground. Not only was the wretched individual as pale as a sheet, but a strange translucent blue film lay over the too-large eyes. Something stirred in Jake’s chest, a familiar fear, though he couldn’t place it.

Suddenly, Jake leaped back as a city bus roared past. He was caught by the person behind him and, mumbling an apology to the not even aware woman, he turned his attention back to the intersection. The light had changed and the waiting mob surged forward. There was no open umbrella amongst the commuters and before Jake could gather himself, he felt shoulders bumping against him as he realized he hadn’t started walking yet. Rubbing his eyes for the third time that day, Jake joined in the communal trudge across the street and down the next sidewalk.

Jake had never before been so grateful for the monotonous nature of his work. His mind wandered, trying to grasp at half-formed memories and forgotten nightmares to place the horrible sight from the sidewalk. His fingers tapped mindlessly on the keyboard as his mind clambered for even the tiniest shred of remembrance. Maybe he wasn’t sleeping enough. True, he hadn’t gotten a full night’s sleep for about a week, with the strange noises tearing him from his stupor only to disappear for the rest of the night. At first, he had blamed his poor sleep on the unfamiliar surroundings, but he had been in Tacoma for six months now and still went through weeks on end of insomnia.

Jake jumped as his phone rang, and after calming himself he found the caller to be his supervisor. After a five minute lecture about how poor his work had been recently and multiple questions about if his heart was truly in this, Jake returned to his thoughtless task. Of course his heart was not in this work, whose would be?

The hours dragged by, but finally it was five o’clock and Jake was on his way home, the same commute as this morning but in reverse. There were no unexpected occurrences and by the time he arrived back at his apartment, Jake’s heart felt a little lighter than usual. Perhaps tonight would hold a deep slumber with no interruptions.

Taking his bowl of stir fried rice to the living room, Jake flipped on the television and immediately his blood ran cold. He didn’t even hear the remote hit the ground, slipping from his numb fingers. An eerie glow emitted from the screen, a color that seemed to consume the small room. Images flickered across the screen, all of the same subject but only lasting moments at a time. It was the… thing… from earlier that day. When he had seen it before he had thought it was a man, but now Jake was sure it wasn’t even human.

The long, spindley fingers were wrapped around the handle of a black umbrella, though from the ever-changing images, it didn’t need an umbrella at all. Sometimes its grotesque back was facing the camera and only its oddly shaped bald skull protruded from lumpy shoulders, while other times it peered so intently into Jake’s life with its filmy eyes that Jake was certain it could see him. The eyes were about a half a size too big for its ugly face, as were its ears that jutted out almost sideways.

It was always just standing there, gripping the umbrella in one hand, while the background would change from forests to deserts to office buildings behind it. After what seemed hours, the images came to a halt and Jake found himself holding his breath. The creature stood still on a sidewalk, still holding that umbrella. Not just any sidewalk, Jake realized, but the pavement in front of his apartment building. Without realizing it, Jake found himself tiptoeing toward his television, seemingly drawn in to examine the picture closer. When his nose almost made contact with the screen the thing moved suddenly. Falling back on his bottom Jake watched as the thing reached out its other hand to produce a… butterfly? Its vivid blue wings were almost painful to look at against the drab background of the creature’s black suit and the gray of the building behind it. The butterfly took flight and for some reason, Jake found himself comforted by the graceful movements of the beautiful insect.

A city bus suddenly blared through the frame, splattering the butterfly and sending Jake crashing backwards. He knocked the recliner over in his flight from the television and found himself cowering behind it. Gulping air and trying to coax his heart back to a normal rate, he peeked over the edge of the chair, finding the television screen black, as if it had been off this whole time. Carefully, Jake stood up and turned his recliner back on its correct side, then crossed the room and brushed his fingertips on the screen. It felt cool, and though he knew most modern televisions don’t get hot, he still wanted to check.

Admonishing himself for how jumpy he had been all day, he decided to call it an early night, and made his way to bed. The night brought nothing but restful sleep, exactly what Jake had needed. The next morning the sun was even peeking out from between the intrusive clouds and Jake thought to himself that things were finally looking up. Almost with a spring in his step, he got about his day and was soon on his daily commute. This jolly mood only lasted until he found himself standing almost exactly where he had been the previous morning.

Once again, across the street stood the figure, sticking out even more today as it held that damned umbrella despite the somewhat sunny day. He wanted to scream and curse at it, ask why it was seemingly haunting him. While he was still fighting between the courage to yell and the rationality to stay quiet, the thing held out its horrible hand, balled in a fist. Every muscle in Jake’s body tensed and his eyes strained for all they were worth as he watched a butterfly appear from the palm of the creature as it opened its hand. It was the same butterfly as the video last night and Jake watched with trepidation as it took flight.

Voices began screaming, but they seemed so far away, as if under water. The butterfly’s delicate wings swooped and fluttered as it traversed the street and Jake couldn’t take his eyes off of it. Without realizing it, he reached a hand out and was surprised when the insect alighted on his finger. With a slight smile, he brought the butterfly to his chest, as if it was the most precious thing to him in the entire world. It was only then that he heard what all of those voices were yelling about.

“Get out of the road! The bus is—“

You watch with the closest approximation of glee your wicked heart can feel. Your twisted mouth twitches into a sickly rictus that should never be referred to as a smile. He had been fun while it had lasted, he was already so fragile when you found him. You liked that, fragility was the quickest way to what you wanted.

Perhaps years ago you had known what exactly what it was you wanted, but it had been so long that you were going through the motions now. Maybe one day you’ll remember, but until then, you will continue to do your work. Ironic, isn’t it? Most of your best victims feel so trapped in their lives and work, and you are no different. But there is no sense in pondering these things. Time to pick out another victim.