Written on 31 October 2018
On the first night the pale faced man bought the candles. He placed them in a perfect circle, twenty of them, and although the wind was strong that evening, the flames didn't even flicker.
On the second night the pale faced man bought the animal skin. It most closely resembles a deer, but it was smaller. More contorted. I could smell it from the house. He laid it in the middle of the candles with perfect symmetry.
On the third night the pale faced bought the chalk. He delicately linked all of the candles with white lines. The cloaked figure contemplated his creation.
It was then that he rested, crossing his legs improbably, sitting perfectly still, facing my house, his black eyes serene, but with a sadistic smile playing around his blood red lips. Waiting. Waiting for me to leave.
I knew I was going to die in that house.