Cold Autumn Leaves

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The noise echoed through the house, right into Zach's conscious. He stared down at the glass of alcoholwatered down to last longer. You see Zach is a special kind of alcoholic, broke. He still managed to drink his liver to a screaming agony every night. The green timer above his stove read 3:03 am and was the only real light illuminating his clean house. Poor or not this man had the knack for cleanliness, he had it ten years ago as a football star in his local high school too. Gave the other jocks a run for their money by actually making straight A's and being studious. He nearly chuckled before his thoughts were interrupted by a vacant memory of a side he hated. The past is the past he told himself as he downed a small sip.

This former offensive line man was now in his mid 20's and looking a whole hell of a lot older than he should. The booze will do that, especially if you exchange almost all water for the bottle of liquor. He loved that bottle more than his own blood. All the former strength that got him the fans and ladies was now his worst weakness. His dad would say he was too good for his own sake, 'fuck him' he thought his lips gritting making a wave of wrinkles through the patchy scruff on his face. His fantasies of the past were interrupted by a knocking noise dancing towards him from the front room.

Zach's head didn't jerk up but rather, floated. He was startled, yes, but more confused. It's 3:04 at night and he wasn't living with anyone nor was he expecting guests. He left his watered down drink and began for the door. The drink would remain idle while its creator would never return to finish it. 

The living room which connected to the kitchen was a spacious one, he remembered when he first saw it and fell in love instantly. Repainted the walls to perfection, the furniture matched to a nice color pallet, and paintings he had made decorated the walls. The doors handle seemed to be cold, the season change did that, he cursed under his breath remembering the time. 

The door opened and mother nature blew a chilled kiss that could remind a man the seasons are changing. A silhouette stood on the small cement porch, the details are vastly unimportant. It was the silence that hit Zach first. He had read somewhere of the Witching Hour, when the night is at its most quiet. Zach began to open his mouth to ask 'who the fuck knocks on someone's door at  3 am in the fucking morning?'. The words were immediately struck down as the silhouette lunged for the 6'4 208 lb former football star.

Zach was caught off guard, and elbow digging into his stomach under his left peck right into the bottom of the rib cage. Zach's left hand shot up in time to stop whatever was coming next. The door left wide opened as both of them tumbled deep into the belly of the house. The two masses separated for only a second while Zach stumbled, the attacker clearly gearing for a second charge,  his right side holding an object. Zach couldn't make out the object but the moonlight lit up the room enough to see what the attacker was going to do next. His steps were quick, precise, and left Zach only on the defensive. Dive.

Zach reached out and grabbed both arms 'let's bring him down' Zach thought patiently. The silhouettes body and movements reminded him of an old buddy he used to wrestle when he drank. Maybe this was all some sick joke and they would laugh about it later. That's when it hit him, a glimmer of the moonlight, just inches above where Zach's left hand was desperately clutching. A blade spoke that light. A blade that was sending him love letters, all stating that this was no joke this was fate. 

Zach's back hit the wall with such a thud that he'd believed he should've gone through it. The noise was loud enough to scare a nearby painting right off the wall, it smashed against the ground as the former lineman struggled to keep a realistic footing. All his former glory and strength was now nothing more than fat and alcohol running his body. His arm's ached as the attacker had him pinned to the wall the blade coming ever closer. 

Zach was gritting his teeth together, the blade was about at mid stomach level. Aside from the odd angle it was inching closer and soon Zach's body would give out. His teeth were screaming in his mouth, signals were being sent to his brain as if to say 'stop clenching your teeth. You clench them any harder and they'll all shatter to dust.' He grunted holding the arm, both shaking, Zach's eyes fixated on the Silhouettes right hand. Zach couldn't scream, that could distract his mind making his arm lose focus, then his ribs would have stainless steel in them. He couldn't kick or shove because then he could lose what little balance he had. 'Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck' his mind raced. This feeling was much worse than when you'd do something wrong and you knew an adult was on their way to punish you. This was far worse. 

Zach was no angel, he knew this but his arms screamed as the muscle fibers said their last goodbyes. Zach's head floated upward, he locked eyes with his attacker. They were... Familiar?

The blade came crashing through. Tissue and fat stood aside as if to welcome their new guest. The arm pulled back fast not even giving the blood enough time to escape. The blade came rushing back, Zach's left hand came up as if to stop the arm, the tip of the blade tore at the palm of his hand before colliding with his stomach. 

Wires fired up in his head as the blade kept coming, schliche schliche schliche. The blade sang a song as it tore fabric and flesh. Zach's legs gave out and he stumbled forward, the Silhouette stood aside and watched as he fell with a heavy thud. The sound can only be described as wet meat hitting the floor, the blood caused that noise. Raspy breaths were the only sounds any ear could make out before, the Silhouette walked patiently to the kitchen. Pulled from the pocket was a page, torn right out of an old yearbook.

Calmly he placed it, rubbing his gloved thumb over the edge of the upper right side where a corner was a little more tattered than the rest of the page. A long drawn out sigh filled the room as the Silhouette cleansed his blade of sin in the kitchen sink. The raspy breaths long stopped as the body had lost all life within it. The Silhouette calmly left, not in a car, but walking. Disappearing before 3:08 am that cold Tuesday morning. In a small town no one has ever heard of except the residents, who now had something to fear again. Something that was much darker than their pasts. The boogeyman had returned, ten cold years were not enough.