Its night and I'm running.
I always run.
I run and it follows.
It always follows.
Since before I can remember.
It doesn't run like I do.
I look, and It's closer than it was before.
It's always closer.
But it never runs.
So I run farther.
I always run farther.
But it's always there.
Always following.
Always behind me.
I look back.
I shouldn't look back.
But I do.
I can't stop.
I feel its eyes.
It watches me.
It sees.
It doesn't have eyes.
It has no face.
Still, it watches.
It sees.
It stands.
Never sits, never walks.
Always stands.
It is very tall.
Slender.
It looks at me with no eyes.
It wears a suit.
A nice suit.
A black suit.
It's arms are never moving.
It never moves.
Except to follow.
To follow me.
It's arms never reach for me.
Its arms are still.
It has many arms.
It is always there.
It never hurts me.
It just watches.
It has always watched.
And I have always watched back.
I can always see it.
They can't.
No one sees like I do.
No one watches it.
No one can see.
I wanted them to see, once.
I tried to get them to see It.
It watched.
It always watched.
But they did not.
It watches no one but me.
So I run from them too.
From everyone.
They don't understand.
They think I'm crazy.
A small, lost child.
Always running from nothing.
It isn't nothing.
It is there.
It has always been there.
This is my thought.
My only thought.
Forever, I can only think one thought.
It is there.
It.
Is.
there.
It is real.
I can see it.
I always see it.
Behind me.
Never beside.
Never in front.
Always behind.
I look.
I shouldn't look.
But I do.
It isn't there.
Why?
It isn't there.
It has never not been there.
I look behind.
Still, it is not there.
Never in my life, in my nine years, has it not been there.
I look in front.
I should have kept looking behind.
I should have run.
I shouldn't have looked in front.
But I do.
I always look in front.
It Is always behind.
Now is different.
Now it is in front.
Very close to me.
Right in front of me.
It is tall.
It wears a suit.
It does not wear it.
It is the suit.
The suit is its skin.
It reaches for me.
I cannot run.
It is in front.
I do not scream.
I should have screamed.
But I have never screamed.
I have never needed to.
It has never hurt me before.
It has never moved before.
Its arms are not arms.
They do not bend like arms.
They bend like rope.
They wrap around me like rope.
They are cold.
Now, I am cold.
I try to scream.
I do scream.
But they do not see.
They see a small, lonely child.
As they have always seen.
They cannot see it.
It is real.
It binds me.
I scream again.
They do not hear me.
They cannot hear me.
They cannot see me.
Like it.
I am like it now.
Alone.
We seek companionship.
To not be alone.
But they cannot see us.
They never see.
We watch.
We do not move.
We wait.
For someone to see.
Our arms do not move.
We see.
But we do not have eyes.
We wait for someone with eyes.
We always wait.
And we do see.
A small, lonely child.
It can see.
The child can see.
It looks behind.
It is frightened.
It wants others to see.
They do not.
They cannot.
So he runs.
It will always run.
And we follow.
We will always follow.
We never move.
We just watch.
We see .
Until he can be like us.