The cold rain stung like a million tiny needles against Sally and Ned’s raw, exposed skin. In the dark distance sat the dilapidated, wooden house, quivering in the merciless and unforgiving wind. Heads down, they pressed onwards. That was when the curtain started to move. Slowly, fluidly, deliberately.
As the travellers broached the twisted and creaking wrought iron gates that marked the lifeless property’s boundary, Sally half-noticed a glint through one of the top windows. Was it a reflection? Was it the glint of a candle? She couldn’t be sure. Gripping Ned’s arm and cautiously moving closer to the rusted gates, she peered into the black, rattling windows. They stared right back, like inky, dead eyes. Eyes that were seemingly prying into their souls. Sally and Ned came to a stop as Ned placed his hand against the gate, feeling it’s icy texture.
Tap, tap, tap…the rain lashed hard against the windows, against the houses decaying wooden exterior. Tap, tap, tap, tap, BANG! The palm of a grey hand slammed hard from out of the darkness against one of the window’s murky panes of glass before slowly sliding downwards and out of sight. The travellers eyes darted wildly from window to window to window. Nothing.
Sally let out an involuntary whimper and took a step backwards, her foot coming to rest in a stagnant, overflowing puddle. Freezing water seeped into her already muddied, ruined designer shoes. Not that she cared. She just wanted to turn and run back to the relative safety of their broken down car.
“What’s that?” Ned suddenly whispered into the storm. He raised a trembling hand to point at the window. On it, smeared in white paint, were four words that made his blood run cold. Four words that were not there only a moment ago: I CAN SEE YOU.
Ned read the words out loud as another whimper automatically passed Sally’s lips. Her husband took her by the hand as they slowly walked backwards, step by step, their eyes fixed to the ominous words. “We’re being watched!”
Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap…the rain lashed hard against the window. “Yes,” thought the shadowed figure, setting down the knobbled paintbrush and peering back. “You are…”