The Visitor

Now I know. That night I wasnt alone. I blamed the tapping of the window on the gnarled and twisted branches of the old oak tree. I assumed that the banging gate was due to the blustery wind. Naturally I didnt dare check to see if I was wrong. In fact, I did quite the opposite. Spooked, I ran around the house furiously closing curtains and slamming windows shut. After that, I returned to my room and sat down at my desk.
"My minds just playing evil tricks on me" I told myself but I couldnt have been more wrong.
After what seemed like an eternity of unexplained noises, I couldnt take any more. I got up and plodded through to the bathroom. I turned the tap on and fumbled about trying to find my toothbrush, the whole time my eyes fixed to the mirror. I didnt dare turn round, in fear that something was lurking about, waiting for me. Just like lightning, an eye flashed in the corner of the mirror and was gone just as soon. I shrieked and ran back to my desk, my heart in my mouth, chest pounding and pounding and pounding like it would never stop. I returned to find the window wide and curtain flailing. I gasped as I watched the gate creak closed. I caught a glimpse of a long, draping cloak, turning to corner, but even with the streetlamps on, there was no shadow to follow it.
I drew the curtain, just praying my nightmare would end. It was only then I realised that the blank paper infront of me was no longer pristine. It had one word written on it in a horrible inky scrawl.
"Scared?"