Macy Hilroy never believed in the legend of Peeping Tom. Never gave in to the relentless rumours spreading throughout town and all the ghost stories told at campfires by the neighbourhood kids. To her, it was nothing more than a rubbish story made up by some dumb teenagers trying to scare off the community. No matter how much "proof" or "evidence" of the legend, Macy knew that it was all talk and no show. She was determined to prove to herself and others that Peeping Tom was nothing more than a silly myth.
Down off 14th street, crossing over the river, there was a tunnel blown in the mountainside for the train to pass through. It was a very eerie, desolate area—a place where hardly anyone, other than the train itself, or edgy kids attempting to mess with the paranormal, would travel. But more importantly, it was home to Peeping Tom.
The story went that a homeless man named Tom in the 1900s got hit by the train and died, and now it was his spirit haunting the tunnel. But everyone had their own version of the tale.
To summon Peeping Tom, one would have to stare down the tunnel at exactly midnight for thirty seconds straight without blinking. Once completed, it was said that Peeping Tom would arise from the train tracks. From that day following, over the span of the next thirty days, he would then gradually and physically get closer to you, until he eventually bludgeoned you to death. Peeping Tom was said to be a black, shadowy figure with a top hat on his head, but again, everyone had their own version. Yet one thing was agreed upon, and that was to stay away from the tunnel and Peeping Tom.
Many years ago, it was also rumoured that a young girl around Macy's age, went to the tunnel at midnight and summoned Peeping Tom. And, just like the legend said, for the next thirty days, he ever so slowly got closer to her—until he forced her to take a pair of scissors and gouge her own eyes out, just so she wasn't forced to keep seeing him. She was found dead the next day, and police reports stated that she'd been in a state of shock at the time of death. Still, that wasn't enough to convince Macy.
So one cold, snowy night, she somehow convinced her friend Madeleine to come with her to the tunnel. They hurried down the train tracks in their puffy winter coats, only five minutes until midnight.
"Hurry up," Macy ordered. "We're going to miss him."
Madeleine trailed behind, gasping. "I don't think this is a good idea. I think we should turn back."
"No," Macy retorted. "You agreed to come with me."
"Yeah, but I've changed my mind. I don't think we should be messing around with this stuff."
Macy huffed. "You really buy into that crap? Come on, I'm going to show you it's not real."
So Madeleine followed along, refusing to trust her gut instinct.
It was 11:58 when the girls reached the tunnel. It was very dark and intimidating, to the point Madeleine couldn't even look down it, the fear of seeing Peeping Tom too deep. As for Macy, there was surprisingly little to no fear. She had managed to convince herself the legend wasn't real. She prepared herself by blinking numerous times, getting her eyelids wet. Madeleine stood beside her with a stopwatch in one hand to record the thirty seconds and her cell phone in the other.
"Ten more seconds until midnight," she informed Macy, the fear clear as day in her voice. "Three...two...one—"
Macy opened her eyes wide and stared straight down the tunnel. The cool, crisp air was already harsh on her lashes, but she refused to give in. Gradually, the urge to blink became greater and greater. Thirty seconds didn't sound like much, but it was more difficult than Macy had initially predicted.
