GRAVEBORN

1\THE MAN AT THE WINDOW

It was a quiet autumn evening when Emma first saw the man at the window. The sun had set hours ago, and she was curled up on the couch in her small living room, watching a crime show. The lights were dim, and the wind rattled the windows as if the house itself was shivering.

Emma lived alone in a two-story house on the edge of town. It wasn't a big house, but it was old, with creaky floors and drafty rooms. She liked the peace, though. It was a simple place, far from the noise of the city. Most days, it felt like home.

That night, something changed.

As she glanced up from her show, something caught her eye. At first, she thought it was just a reflection in the glass, but when she looked closer, she saw him—a man standing outside her window. He was tall, his face hidden in shadow, but she could see his outline clearly. His shoulders were broad, and his head was tilted slightly, as if he was staring right at her.

Emma's heart pounded in her chest. She froze, her breath caught in her throat. Was this some kind of joke? She thought of grabbing her phone, but her hands felt numb. Who was he? What did he want?

Her mind raced. Maybe he was lost, or maybe it was just some teenager playing a prank. But the longer she stared, the more her skin crawled. The man didn't move. He just stood there, silent, watching.

Emma forced herself to get up, slowly, so she wouldn't seem scared. She walked over to the window, keeping her eyes on him the whole time. When she got close enough, she flicked the curtains shut and stepped back, her heart still hammering in her chest.

She took a deep breath and reached for her phone. Her fingers trembled as she dialed her best friend, Sarah.

"Hello?" Sarah's voice was sleepy.

"Sarah, there's a man outside my window," Emma whispered, trying to keep her voice steady.

"What? Where are you?"

"At home. He's just standing there. I think he's looking at me."

"Did you call the police?"

"No... not yet. I don't even know if he's still there. He didn't do anything, just stood there."

"Emma, that's creepy! Lock the doors and call the police, okay?"

"I will... I'll check again. Maybe he's gone."

Emma hung up and took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe he was just a stranger passing by. She hesitated, then slowly pulled the curtain back just a crack.

The man was gone.

Her shoulders slumped in relief. She shook her head, trying to laugh it off. Maybe she had just imagined it. Maybe the dark had played tricks on her mind.

But that night, she couldn't sleep.

Over the next few days, Emma tried to forget about the man. She went to work, talked to Sarah, and carried on like everything was normal. But in the back of her mind, she couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. Every time she passed a window, she found herself glancing outside, half-expecting to see him standing there again.

Then, it happened again.

It was late one evening, and Emma had just finished brushing her teeth. She walked out of the bathroom and was heading for her bedroom when something made her stop. She couldn't explain it—just a strange feeling, like she was being watched.

Her heart sank as she turned her head, slowly, toward the bedroom window.

He was there again.

The man stood just outside, his dark shape outlined against the night sky. He was closer this time, only a few feet from the glass. His face was still hidden in shadow, but there was something new—his hand. It was pressed flat against the windowpane, fingers splayed out, as if he was trying to reach through the glass.