The Face

It was a cold black evening when I heard a knock on my window. The curtains were closed, enveloping my bedroom in darkness. I was sitting up against the pillows with my wife snuggled up on my chest watching Jeopardy. I knew all of the answers, since I was a history professor at the community college but two miles from my house.
It had been my dream job—becoming a professor. I always admired teachers and their commitment to their job. They sure had a hell of a lot of patience too. They have the hardest job in the world: teaching and supervising someone else’s snobby kid for six and a half hours. My students, however, show such a passion for history that it could bring me to tears.
Nancy shifted a little, and I gently pushed her off so I could grab a cup of coffee. The carpet was scratchy underneath my feet as I shuffled into the little kitchenette.
I thought I had heard a tiny rapping coming from somewhere, but I dismissed it and continued to pour myself a large cup of decalf. Half-and-half, with a dash of Irish crème creamer. The soft clouds billowed in the dark liquid, and I lost myself for a moment until the rapping came again. I turned around suddenly, but nothing moved except for the gentle rise and fall of the lump of sheets that was my sleeping wife. 
“Andrew,” a raspy voice came from the window. I froze in my tracks, the mug of hot coffee almost melting my fingers off. My knuckles where white as they gripped the edge of the countertop, and I felt my head spin. The darkness that flooded the room seemed to thicken like tar. Each footstep I took was slower and slower until I could hardly lift my leg. The malevolent voice spoke again.
“Let’s play a game, Andrew!”
I slammed my mug onto the counter and rushed to my wife’s side to wake her up. She groaned in protest, but I had managed to scoop her into my arms when I saw the face.
Its eyes were hollow and sunken in, like that of a grinning skull. It had skin that was a pale blue color, but it was stretched tight over its bony structure. Thin wispy black hair shrouded around the pointy cheekbones. My eyes widened and I rushed Nancy out the door.
“Sir… are you alright?” One of our neighbors was standing in the elevator. My stomach leapt, showing that we were moving.
“I think some kids were peeking in my window— “But I stopped.
Our apartment is on the fifth floor.






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SpeakerofWolvesThis teenager is a 'regular' and has contributed a lot of work, comments and/or forum posts, and has received many votes and high ratings over a long period of time. This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. said...
Feb. 24 at 9:55 pm
I love it! I am expecting more from you!
 
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