1.

Raimi hunched over his laptop. It was sweltering outside and despite the fans blowing, he could feel his shirt was drenched. The room probably stank. He’d been working for hours on the article. He leaned back in his chair, looking over what he’d just written. He groped for his e-cigarette, taking a long drag from it, letting smoke out in a slow exhale. It was good, the best piece in a long time. A farebad Fuck You to the dying Trump era.

He felt the twinge of nicotine in his system, and went back to work. He grinned. It felt good to write. The words flew like liquid, blood pumped heart to brain. He took another hit. Cool, dry mint. He’d gotten the thing to ween himself off cigarettes, which had worked, but now he couldn’t pry the damn thing out of his own hands. It was healthier at least.

His phone pinged, he ignored it. The final sentences had collected themselves in his mind. The room was washed in the red of the setting sun. Something had clicked in the back of his head at the outset: this was special. He worked like an old sculptor carving the minute details.

When he hit the final period, he fell back against his chair, exhausted, wiping at the sweat on his forehead with his shirt. He grabbed his phone. A message from Merissa, she would be home late. That worked for him.

He hadn’t planned on being home.

He had time to shower and change before he left. He saved his work, then sat still for a few silent seconds. The lead up always felt like the moment before you stepped on stage for a play. He went about picking his clothes and starting the shower up, ignoring the building anticipation.

When he’d finished, he opened the browser and clicked through folders of bookmarks until he came to a webpage saved by itself. THE STALKING GAME – Forum & Discussion. It was an old web style forum. Simple by design and, by Raimi’s last count, home to only a little over a hundred users, some of whom didn’t or rarely used the forum. He clicked on the DISCUSSION tab and opened up a new thread.

“Hello ladies & gents. I’m about to head out for my 65th night of observation of Sarah. If you’ve been following my threads on her, you’ll know that tonight is an important night for Sarah- and the rest of us! She is inviting that guy over and I think they’re gonna seal the deal, if you catch my drift. Any minors reading this, be warned, this might get a little NSFW! Lol. Keep your fingers crossed because this could be a big moment! I will report back once I’ve returned.”

He read over it once again, hit send, and shut the laptop. He left the apartment, carrying only his key.

It was time to play the game.

2.

It was dark out now and still just as hot. Raimi made his way down the sidewalk, shoulders slumped, eyes glued to his feet. He’d pulled his hair back into a ponytail. If anybody he knew saw him, he’d get recognized, but otherwise this kept him incognito. He wore black and gray, nothing with any designs or eye-catching logos.

Tonight, he thought, would be the end of Sarah’s story. What attracted him to a target were their lives: the intricate stories that made up their every day. Sarah had been courting a man. Raimi had watched them begin to spend more time together, laughing and flirting. At least, that’s what he assumed was happening. Reality was only one dimension of the game- the rest all came from the player’s mind, their imagination. A creative enough player could always find a compelling target, and he had yet to pick a loser.

He wondered whether things would work out for Sarah. He had the notion they would. Not that it would matter if they didn’t. She was young and pretty. If Mister Guy rejected her advances she would find another boy. Raimi was optimistic like that. He liked happy endings the best, and nothing good came without hardship.

There was a foul smell on the air and his nose wrinkled against it. It must be Chicago itself that reeked. This city rubbed him the wrong way. There was too much of it, and it was arrogant. He had loved it when he’d first arrived with Merissa, but now he felt oppressed by it. Yet he stayed. It wasn’t because of his girlfriend- she didn’t like it here either- but if you had asked him, Raimi couldn’t have answered. The only saving grace was the sheer volume of people. It meant never having to stop the game.

Sarah lived nearby. It was risky, something he’d usually try to avoid, but his senior player status awarded him some leeway. He was one of the best players in the game besides Don, and Sarah was something like his thirtieth target. The proximity, admittedly, was a draw too. Didn’t everyone get a little curious about their neighbors?

He hit his vape, hoping to distract himself from the rancid smell. It was like something had died and gone fetid. He glanced around for roadkill, anything that would explain it, but there weren’t any dead cats smeared across the pavement or anything. He was nearing his spot, and he frowned. It was like a baby crying in a movie theater.

There was a little trashy alley across the street from Sarah’s place. No good place to sit, but that was fine. Leaning against the wall smoking made him seem like part of the scenery. It was the perfect vantage point. Even without binoculars he had a great view. Sarah’s place had big windows which gave a wide view of her living area and the kitchen. It was where she spent most of her time. If he was lucky, she and her boy would keep things centered there.

He slid into the alley, squinting up at the window across the street. The lights were on, and no one was home. He guessed she was showering. He turned his attention to the street. Another tip- don’t stare when they aren’t in view. Cars passed by and people walked by and no one paid attention to him. It was a meditative moment, the sounds of Chicago nightlife quixotically zen. He thought about Merissa, and hoped he wouldn’t get home too late.

She was a greater gift than he could have asked for. She made him feel strong, and good, no matter what seemed to be weighing on him. They drew love from some impossibly deep well that he could not have believed existed, much less within himself. He felt then he should stop, should go home to his girl. He continued to watch.

Sarah came into the living room. She was pretty, her body on the thicker side of curvy. Her hair was a beautiful red, and she combed it as she walked out. He could almost hear the live in-studio audience applause. She began to busy herself in the kitchen.

He licked his lips thoughtlessly, studying her. She was excited, and he could imagine her humming as she flitted about. A charming, bubbly girl.

Something caught her attention. She wandered off, out of sight. Raimi winced as the smell came again, sour, stinging his nose. He pressed a hand to his face. The stink persisted, now pungent enough he could nearly taste it. It launched him into a coughing fit and he spat, trying to rid himself of it. He rubbed water from his eyes, trying to return his attention back to Sarah.

He felt his heart skip a beat.

It looked like someone had moved down the hallway.

He froze, watching. The front door was still shut. Had her visitor arrived? Or had it just been Sarah again? He shook his head. He was getting too caught up in the moment.

She came back wearing lipstick. Saucy. Raimi sagged against the wall, watching her return to her kitchen duties. Nothing seemed amiss. That was good. He hated when he missed something. He watched as she stirred, and wished he’d had his camera. The first rule of the game necessarily prohibited things like that. It was a tragedy how many good photo opportunities he usually had in a night of observation.

Photography was what he was best at. His writing was good, sure, and that made up the bulk of his work. What got the attention were his pictures, however. He had the eye for it, and the patience, and when he was behind the lens of a camera it seemed the whole world swam with beauty.

Sarah perked up, recapturing Raimi’s attention. A knock at the door, perhaps? She washed her hands and went to answer.

Show time, baby.

3.

She opened the door. No one stood on the other side of it. She peeked out into the apartment complex, looking both ways. Raimi raised a brow, confused. Then he noticed the looming figure in the hallway, blocking view of her bathroom door. His whole body grew cold, despite the heat. Whoever it was stood in the dark, still. Sarah shut the door. She went back to work in the kitchen, and the figure remained.

Raimi looked around in disbelief. This was unreal. A target had never had a home invasion happen during the game. He went for the pocket he carried his phone in- and of course he felt nothing. He hadn’t brought it.

He watched.

Sarah finished up whatever she was making. She began to set up the table, arranging plates, drinks. Blissfully unaware of the intruder watching.

Raimi had to say something. Anything. He had to help.

Could he? He wasn’t out of shape, but he didn’t hit the gym every day. Whoever that was might have a weapon, then they’d both be in trouble. And... well, the first rule of the game. No interference. He pressed himself to one wall of the alley. It felt like his eyes were vibrating in his skull. He took in shallow, quick breaths. It wasn’t supposed to go like this.

She turned around. She stood stunned, a deer in headlights. The intruder moved, stepped out of the dark into the light and for all the world Raimi wished they hadn’t.

They were built like a man, tall, broad, a powerful machine. They had no visible face. All he could see was what looked like a thin vertical slit in the center. A man shaped monster. Sarah stepped back, away. She was helpless. It followed and it reached for her, one long arm, and grabbed her by the face. Raimi gaped, couldn’t breathe. He’d walked into a terrible trick.

It pushed her, almost carrying her, and she tumbled backwards over the couch. It stalked forward, naked and gray, stooping to grab her again, dragging her. They came to the window. It raised her, pulling her by the hair. Faintly, just ever so faintly, he could hear her screaming. He felt light headed. It smashed her face into the window. Thud. There was blood. Thud. Again. Thud. Blood streaked down the window. She raised one hand, weak, pressed it to the window. There were no more screams. It reached it’s other hand over and dragged it’s fingers down her face, gashing her skin, tearing her.

Thud.

Her hand dropped.

Thud.

Why didn’t it stop? Why wasn’t it fucking stopping?

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Her face was distant pulpy mush. No more boyfriends or romantic dinners. Raimi’s knees felt weak and he reached for the wall trying to keep himself upright.

The intruder let her body drop.

It was so quiet out. Where had the cars gone?

He was dreaming. He must be. A nightmare.

It began to write. It leaned and dipped it’s finger into Sarah’s face blood and it wrote on the window. Slow, deliberate, clean letters. It was writing backwards.

Raimi’s eyes widened.

I

SEE

YOU

Next Chapter: Chapter 2