He always lurked the same time every year. People would look outside the window and by the exact hour, minute, even second, he would be floating from one house to the next.

He wouldn’t do anything; he would slowly drag himself to each lifeless window, look into the black space for a couple seconds, then drift off to the next. He never seemed pleased or upset, he was just there. My mother said that he was the life-like image of mystery.

I had never looked at him before.

Every time he passed-by in his black coat, I ran for my life. My mother had seen him and so had my brothers, but they refused to mention his appearance. They would only mention what everyone else would: all he does is drift and wander, looking into your window to find emptiness he can squeeze into.

But the night before his arrival, I set myself a goal. To find out what I can about this mystery man.

Eleven o’clock rang through the house as I was sat by the window, clinging to the blanket thrown over my head. All I had was a book full of research about him and the lamppost outside to allow myself some light.

Every minute ticked over. Anxiety scratched from within me, begging me to curl up in bed and rid myself of witnessing him. But anxiety was overrun by curiosity; I had built myself up all day and I was not ready to let myself down.

11:13. Grasping the stopwatch, I began timing the seconds. They felt so slow, as if time had been stretched for his entrance.

11:13:30. Just nineteen seconds left. I kept my eyes peering over the windowsill, hoping he’d appear in the distance.

Fifteen.

Ten.

Nine.

Eight.

My fingertips grew numb from holding onto the wooden slat. I let go and got on my knees, shuffling to see without having to hold on. I took one small peek at the stop watch before fixing back onto the street.

Three.

Two.

One.

11:13:49. There he was, stood in his black coat with an umbrella sheltering him whilst watching the empty darkness of the house opposite me. He looked as white as a sheet, which only alarmed me by the fact he was hairless and the white glow shined off of him.

My insides were unsettled and the room went cold; something wasn’t right.

If he was a normal man who was just going from house to house causing stress, the police would’ve gotten him by now and there would be no reason for everyone to shut down when he was brought up.

If he was normal, I wouldn’t be sat here.

He began to drift, his priority was to get to the next house. Except, he wasn’t drifting to the neighbouring houses. He was drifting over the road; his next house was mine.

Panic rushed through me, my body had started to go rock solid and my mind had gone blank. I had only planned to watch him, I hadn’t planned for the moment he reached my window. All I could think of was to duck. From what I’d read and heard, he would only be there for a minute.

11:14:57. I decided to hide myself against the radiator, letting the blanket swallow me whole as I held onto the stopwatch as if the next minute was my last dance with oxygen.

Time slowed down, every second felt like an hour. My whole body was numb from holding on dear life.

11:15:57. He had to have moved on. Lifting the blanket off of my head, I swallowed the knot in my throat and slowly got onto my knees again. My brain was cursing at me, telling me to retreat to the safe space of my room but, again, curiousity was leading me afar.

I took what I thought would be my last breath, hoping I’d not end up in a grave by noon. My legs felt like jelly but had enough strength to push me up so my eyes could see the street.

When my eyes were above the windowsill, I wasn’t able to see the street. Instead, I saw why my mother never spoke of the man and why my brothers locked their doors every night. My eyes weren’t met with the comfort of the street outside, or the lamppost that was slowly giving in.

He hadn’t moved yet. He was stood in front of me with the window as my only protection.

Bones. The man wasn’t full of skin as pale as a sheet like I had once thought. He was simply bones.

He was life-like, white eyes with no pupil, and a skeleton to keep him structured.

All I could see was bones and darkness. Now I understood why no one spoke of him.