The Smiling Man

My Hair

         It all started when I left the school I never wanted to leave. I don't really remember the time before the fifth grade school, only my two best friends, Matt and Jack. We always went over to each other's houses because we were our only friends and had nowhere else to go. I do remember one time I was alone at my own house though, before I never slept there alone. It was a more peaceful time back then, living with my dad. I was five or six and hadn't started my first year of school, kindergarten. We lived in a neighborhood but we were the last people on our row of houses, and my room was on the second story and I could see out into the garden. A main factor I do remember was there was always a smiling man outside my window from the hours of one to five A.M. Of course, this was only when it was just me or one of my friends were there, but if an adult came, he disappeared. He didn't really scare me though, or at least I thought it was a guy, I was wrong.

         "Dad, why does he stand there smiling?" I would ask, but he would just tell me I was having a nightmare, "Then why can my friends see him?" I asked a bit more angry, because he hadn't believed me. "Because you've convinced them that someone's there, when there isn't," he told me. My dad, he was a very rational person, he never believed me when I told him about scary things that happened to me, and he was normally right. So I believed he was right that the person outside was just a figment of my imagination. That was until I heard the creaks in my staircase at four in the morning. Whoever was making there way up my stairs wasn't trying to be quiet at all. They were so loud in fact that they woke me up. I looked out my window to see where the smiling person was, but they weren't there. That was one thing I distinctly remembered about the person, their smile, it was haunting. It was like someone who had caught their prey and was ready to devour it. The stairs creaking stopped when I turned quickly. I hadn't ever looked down and not seen them. I thought it was my dad coming up the stairs at first, but now I knew the truth. I think all little kids do this, but I went under my blankets. I don't know how that would protect me, and it didn't. My door opened slowly, as if to make me more scared. I looked up from under my blankets and saw that my open closet was now closed. I knew it, I could capture the creeper. I grabbed a rope I kept under my bed and tied the door handle to my chest of drawers. I thought I was a little genius, I could finally show my dad I wasn't delusional. I ran to my door and opened it to get my dad and someone opened the door for me, and I saw it. Only the smile though, and I blacked out.

         I woke to my dad shaking me, and getting angry. He kept yelling, but the only distinguishable word was "hair".

         "I'm sorry, what did I do? I saw the smiling man and locked him in the closet," I said, feeling the tears stinging my eyes. I always cried when he was mad at me.

         "Your hair, why did you cut it so terribly?" He asked, semi-rationally. I raised my hand to feel my head where my long hair should be, but it was cut short.

         "Wh- where's my hair?" I asked my dad. I knew he hated me having it, bu allowed it because I loved it. "Did you cut it why I was asleep?" I asked, definitely in full tears now. Had loved my hair, and wanted to start kindergarten with it.

         "I didn't do it, you did," he told me, like it was a well known fact.

         "I love my hair though, why would I do that?" I asked, and he stopped. He realized I wouldn't have consciously cut my own hair. I loved and begged to keep my hair long.

         "Why is your closet tied shut?" He asked, confused.

         "I told you, I tied the smiling person in there, at least, I thought I did. I opened my door to come get you and it was standing right there, and I passed out, and now my hair is cut," I broke out into tears again. He was silent, and I think that was the starting of the smiling person. I hoped the end, I was wrong of course.