I Know You're Awake And Other Stories

The Nocturnal Wanderer

I called the creepy fucker 'The Nocturnal Wanderer'.

I live in this really old house in the middle of an isolated marsh. The realtor called it 'haunted', but I bought it anyway. Don't ask me why I moved out there, it's a long story you don't want to hear anyway.

My front yard is basically a huge, slightly firm mud puddle that leaves perfect imprints of whatever walks in it, at least until the rain, which is frequent here, washes them away.

Let me state first that I live in the middle of nowhere. Seriously, I have to drive half an hour just to go to the grocery store or the gym. My driveway is a half-mile long deserted-looking swamp road. The entrance is buried deep in the bushes and hard to see if you're not looking for it.

Now imagine my surprise two years or so ago during a dry spell when I look in my front yard one morning and see footprints leading from the marsh up to my living room window. On the window was the outline of a set of hands, like someone put their hands up to the window to peer inside.

The dry spell lasted for about three and a half weeks, so every morning I would wake up to a new set of footprints and a new outline on my window, no matter how much I cleaned it.

Suprisingly I kinda got used to it. I mean, the creepy fucker never explicitly did anything illegal. He (at least I'm assuming it's a he, I never saw them) just kinda walked up to the window, stood there for god-knows-how-long, and then left. He never tried to break in or hurt me.

So I started calling him 'The Nocturnal Wanderer', wether out of annoyance or the fact I got used to him, I was never sure. The rain picked up again after that and I wasn't sure if he kept showing up or if he stopped, as there was no evidence due to the rain.

But about three months ago, we had a dry day, and I knew I would know the answer as to if he stayed or moved on. He was a wanderer, after all. But I woke up in my upstairs bedroom that night to a loud scream and the sound of wet footsteps heading into the swamp.

The next morning, I went downstairs and found footprints outside and outlines on the window. My nocturnal wanderer never came back after that night.

But as I lie in bed now, listening to the creaks and moans of what I hope to be the house settiling, I begin to wonder.

My nocturnal wanderer was the most determined person I'd ever failed to meet. Come rain, snow, hail, or anything, he would always be there. Nothing could stop him.

So I wonder...what did he see through my living room window that made him, of all people, run away and never return?