The Hooded Stranger

Meeting Him Again

It was him. The man. But, he wasn't at the door. And what i saw made me fly back. his face, was staring at mine. Pressed against the window. With the same expression as always.

I screamed........

The next day I decided to actually LOOK for the man with the hoodie. So far? Nothing. But then I saw it. Or, him. Staring at me with that sinister smile. Watching me closely. I took a deep breath. Held it. And let it out as I walked his way.

"Why did you give me that book?" I asked him. He stared at me not changing his expression. "Hello? Are you just gonna stare at me? And why were you at my house? How did you know where I live?" His jaw tensed. But everything else he did seemed almost motionless. He didn't move his smile. He didn't flash his eyes. He didn't tilt his head.

Not even a blink. Now that I think about it, the entire time I've talked to or seen this man he has never really had a certain look. Almost like Voldemort but this man has less emotion and is a little more flushed. And his eyes. His EYES. They were the iciest shade of blue you could imagine. And they never lose sight of you. They follow you. Like the famous painting, The Mona Lisa. Her eyes might not actually move. But wherever you go, they follow you.

But the freakiest thing was that, when he answered, his body was completely motionless. And it seemed to be in my HEAD. "It's yours." He vaguely explained.

"What's mine?" I asked infuriated. And suddenly his eyes darted behind me. Which made me scared. And when I looked behind me, there was nothing there. I looked back to see if he was still looking, but when I did, he was gone. I looked around. Nowhere to be found.

I slowly walked home thinking about what he said, or telepathized or whatever. The book? It's mine? Was it a journal I lost as a kid? No, I never had a journal. Was it a school book I never returned? No, why would it be empty if it belonged to the school?

As I reached my front door step I remembered what my mom and I had fought over yesterday, so I decided to go around back. As I walked around I saw something move around me. I turned to where the noise was coming from. I didn't see anything. So I moved on, tense. A few steps more and I heard it again. This time, when I turned, I swear, I saw something move. I walked in the direction of the movement. "Hello?" I wearily said, "Is someone there?" Nothing.

"Libby?" I heard a familiar voice call out. That's me. I'm Libby. But boy, did I hate the name.

"Mom?" I call.

"Where are you Libby?" My mom called. That's when I realized that the calls weren't coming from the bushes where the movement was. It was coming from the front door. I took one last search in the bushes, and headed toward my mother.

When we saw each other my mother rapped her arms around me. This time, I really WAS late. And, thank God, my mother was sober.

"Where have you been, baby girl?" God I hated when she called me that. But she insists on doing it because it calms her. The book was tingling in my hand.

"I've been... Out." I hesitated, which wasn't exactly false!

"Well, why didn't you call me? I got worried!" My mother whispered maternally.

"I don't know. I guess I lost track of time and forgot about things. I didn't think you'd be so upset about it. I'm sorry." She pulled back from our way too long of a hug and kept her hands on my shoulders.

"It's ok, hun. I just thought something bad happened to you." My mother said glossy eyed. I just smiled.