Spectre

He felt the presence of a shadow behind him, moving in unison with his own footsteps as he walked home along the dimly lit street.

Its spectre had been there throughout the day, yet in the sunlight it was diminished, faded into the background so he had almost forgotten about it.

Now, in the night hours, the ominous entity was a dense sensation behind him, following just out of his field of vision so that each time he dared a look back over his shoulder, nothing was there, except the foreboding dread that he knew to be hiding beyond the street lamps' light glowing borders.

Hurrying along his way, he arrives at his house and enters the front door in an almost frantic state.

Safely on the other side of the big wooden front door, he leans against its solidness, catching his breath as he laughs at himself for being so worked up over nothing.

But had it been nothing? Perhaps, but that feeling of dread as if his phantom follower was closing in him; ready to envelop his very self in its dark, shadowy abyss did not feel like nothing.

He locks the door and walks down the hallway to put his coat in the closet under the stairs that leads up to the second floor.

Turning quickly around at movement out of the corner of his eye he catches the sight of his own reflection in the hall mirror and startles himself, and he laughs once more at his foolishness.

Jumping at shadows, he thinks to himself as he shakes his head and walks away from the mirror's reflection.

Yet, his reflection does not move with him; indeed its familiar visage becomes stern and menacing as it watches its unsuspecting doppelganger move down the hallway.

Slowly, a chilling sneer spreads across its lips and it moving as swiftly as a shadow, it blurs out of sight of the mirror's frame.

Outside the still darkened house, a scream breaks the calm of the evening, only to be cut off abruptly once again, retuning the quiet to the sleepy, shadow-filled street.