The Long, Lonely Walk Home

This story was originally published in Volume 31 of Plainsong, a non-profit journal published by the University of Jamestown’s English Department. Slight edits were made to the original story and appear here.

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The clock reads 11:30 P.M. You just clocked out of work. It is time to start your walk home. You always like this walk. It is so peaceful, so quiet.

You step out of your office, making sure to lock the door behind you, and the brisk autumn air hits your face. You notice that the sky seems darker than normal—everything seems darker than normal. The chilling breeze causes the hair on your neck to stand up. You feel goosebumps form on your arms.

You walk down the street and begin to feel like someone is watching you. You glance over your shoulder but don’t see anything. You think you see movement out of the corner of your eye and stop to look, but nothing is there.

You decide to take the long way home. You turn to walk through a park overlooking the rest of the city below. You hear something—a rustling of the leaves maybe—and stop. You look, but nothing is there. You start walking again—but at a slightly slower pace. You keep looking around, searching for something, but nothing is there—not a single person or animal passes by. You don’t hear a sound but a chill runs down your spine. You look at the rest of the city below. You see the lights and the silent motions of the people and the cars, but they look like ants, so far away.

You leave the park and turn down your street. You walk up the creaky stairs of your apartment building. You make it up to your apartment. You unlock the door and turn the knob and, once again, no one is there.

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Now it’s time to answer the question. Would you keep reading? (Or in this case, read it again or read another story like it?) If you would, give a like and leave a reply to let me know why below. Thanks for reading!