The Whistler In The Night

Chapter 2

Morning came too soon. I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at the floor, my mind replaying the events of last night over and over. Kayla, floating, her smile, the mirror—it couldn't have been real. But it was. I saw it. The image burned itself into my thoughts, refusing to let go.

"Evan, come down for breakfast!" my mom's voice called from downstairs, cutting through my haze of confusion.

I didn't answer right away, still frozen in the memory of my sister's eerie smile.

"Evan!" Her voice was louder, more insistent.

"Okay, Mom!" I shouted back, trying to shake off the lingering unease. I got dressed quickly, but my body felt heavy, like every movement took twice the effort. My mind was still stuck in that dark moment from the night before.

I made my way downstairs, the smell of bacon and eggs wafting through the air. The kitchen felt too normal, too bright, compared to what I had witnessed. My mom was busy at the stove, and my dad was already at the table, reading the paper. Kayla was nowhere to be seen.

"Morning," I mumbled, sitting down to eat. The food tasted like nothing, my appetite completely gone.

"You okay, sweetie?" my mom asked, glancing at me with concern.

"Yeah, just tired," I lied. I didn't want to talk about last night. How could I even explain it? Oh, hey, Mom, by the way, Kayla was floating in her room last night. No big deal. Yeah, right.

I pushed my food around my plate, barely eating. After breakfast, I grabbed my backpack and headed out to school. The day dragged on, the hours slipping by in a blur. I couldn't concentrate in class. All I could think about was Kayla, and that smile.

When I finally got home, I noticed something strange. A black car was parked in front of our house. It wasn't anyone's car that I recognized, and the windows were tinted so dark I couldn't see inside.

Curious and uneasy, I slipped inside the house quietly, making sure not to be seen. I peeked out through the living room window, watching the car from a distance, my heart pounding in my chest. Who could it be? Why were they just sitting there?

Twenty minutes passed, and nothing happened. I was about to move away from the window when I saw the driver's side door open. My breath caught in my throat as he stepped out.

It was him.

The same man from my nightmares.

He wore the same black clothes, his pale skin almost glowing in the afternoon light. His eyes were just as wide, just as unsettling, as they had been in my dreams. My whole body tensed, a cold shiver running down my spine.

I stood there, frozen, watching as he looked directly at me through the window. He knew I was watching him. His lips curled into that same twisted, knowing smile. Then, to my horror, he raised his hand and waved—slowly, deliberately—as if to say, I see you.

My stomach flipped, and I stumbled back from the window, my heart hammering in my chest. I watched through the curtains as he climbed back into the car, started the engine, and drove away, disappearing down the street as if nothing strange had happened.

I didn't move for a long time after that. My mind raced, trying to make sense of what I had just seen. How could he be here? The man from my nightmares—was he real? Or was this all some twisted trick my mind was playing on me?

But that smile. That wave.

It was real. He was real.

And he knew where I lived.