The Knitter

Chapter 1

THIS IS A VERY ROUGH DRAFT SO DONT JUDGE. Or judge. I don't care. Please leave your thoughts below if you happen to read this story. :) 

1

They call him the knitter. Doesn’t sound “evil,” right? Doesn’t sound “intimidating?” Well, I guess that’s the point. It’s my fault too. That’s why I have to stop him. I guess I should tell you who I am.

 My name is Jael. No, not “jail.” Jay-el. Believe it or not, it’s a bible name. Apparently there was a wicked king on the run, Jael invited him into her house, let him sleep, and drove a tent stake through his temple. Pleasant, right? Don’t believe me? Judges 4. Look it up. Before you get your hopes up, no. I don’t have any “powers.” Not like you’re thinking, anyway. So don’t get disappointed.

Living in Houston, I would say it would be hard to be a masked villain. If you so much as trespass on someone’s property, they will shoot you. With a gun. People don’t really put up with the whole 911 ordeal. I, on the other hand, don’t like guns.  Well, I guess you’ll find out why soon.

Now that introductions are over, I have to find him. I put on a jacket and walk out the door. As I walk the streets of downtown, I listen. If you were to ever find yourself tracking down the Knitter, you won’t find him until you listen. Not for sirens, or broken windows, or screaming children. But for the sound of nothing. Even in the chaos of taxis, laughing, trucks, business, I can still hear it. Nothing. I look around calmly. I look down and see a piece of yarn lying on the ground. I can’t see the end of it. I know from experience not to touch it. As I follow it, I try to be nonchalant. But it's hard when you’re going to- No. I can’t think about that. I can’t have a flash now. Focus. Focus. I follow the yarn all the way to an alley. I look up to see my greeting.

A needle flies at my chest. I dodge the expected two-foot long blade easily.

“Cut the crap, Aaron.”

“My name,” he heaves, “is not Aaron.”

“You keep saying that.” I am on top of the roof now. “Apparently, I’m not getting the message.”

“You will get this one.” He is reckless. I notice he is pale. He stumbles. He hasn’t been this bad in a long time. He shoots five needles in my direction. I leap into the air to miss them and land on the ground behind him. I slowly back away to the shadows out of his sight.

“Where are you?” He screams. I silently come up behind him to lock his arms behind his back and cover his mouth.

“Aaron. You need help.”

 “I think you’ll find that you’re the one who needs help.” His hands easily free themselves and his arm makes a single whip-like motion. His shrill laugh feels like a needle piercing my side. My hands are tied and begin to bleed from the rough rope-like yarn. I fall to my knees and look down. There is blood on my shirt. A sharp burning comes from the wound. I can't scream. I double over as I see his sickening grin walk away. He becomes a blur that shrinks into the darknes. No, I think, Don’t flash. Don’t flash. Don’t-

Too late.