The Hunt

A dark figure stood motionlessly peering down Rosslyn Road. It curved away under his feet and he could see typical suburban houses decorating its flanks, light raindrops dancing on their roofs. A break in the clouds revealed the full moon. It added to the eerie feeling in his gut as he turned his gaze back to the house that he planned to visit. He had picked his target that morning, a physicist working for the Schrödinger Institute in the city. He thought it funny that he was about to conduct his experiment on an unwitting scientist who worked in the same field.

The man in the road bared his teeth in a sneer. He lived for the hunt. He derived a twisted pleasure from taking the form of his victim’s worst nightmare. He quietly shifted his mind to alpha state by relaxing his entire body and focused on the memory of the scientist, Ian Silverman. He had been tracking him all day, observing his habits and picking his point of confrontation. Slowly the world began to change. Everything around him became semi-transparent vessels with mathematical equations floating inside.

The world of a mathematician would naturally consist of this mess of complicated logic, thought the dark figure with a grimace.

He picked up a rock and held it up to his face. The picture made little sense to him, but he could figure out the basics of the equation from his two years of calculus at university. Even the smell of dust tried to confuse his senses with multiple equations. He tossed the rock aside and wiped his fingers on his long black coat. Rain drizzled on his hat and he shook off a few wayward drops.

He looked up at the house. A normal family home with white washed walls, a dark grey roof and a quaint little garden for the owners to slave in over the weekend. What mundane nonsense.

He focused in on his target again, searching for Ian’s worst fear. Ah, darkness, what a brilliant fear to start with, he thought.

The eerie figure allowed his mind to drift within the confines of Ian’s irrational phobia and searched for his parameters. The rush in his stomach made it hard to concentrate but through the last year, he had learned how to focus on his task. His body began to change. He could feel ripples of energy coursing through his being, and slowly he began to meld into a nearby shadow.

He looked at his new shady form and let the rush of his achievement flood over him. His movements were sluggish, but the further he glided through the shadows the more adept he became. He headed towards the study that currently housed his host for the evening. A fear of the dark was useful. It would allow him easy access to the house.

He reached the window and peered inside. There were two strong light fixtures bombarding him, but there were still enough shadows for him to enter with ease. He reached out his hand to touch the thin gap in the window frame. Pushing forward, he felt a slight squeeze as he moved through between the window and its frame. The light inside the room, slamming into him with tremendous force, weakened him and he immediately slipped in behind the curtains. Exposure to light caused him actual pain in his current form, and the mathematics empowering the blast of photons caused his mind even more discomfort.

He peeked out and saw a man of medium build sitting behind a desk, typing away on a computer. Ian stopped for a moment, adjusting his thick frame glasses before rereading what he had written. He brushed his mouse brown hair out of his face and let an unchecked yawn escape. He followed up a deep sigh with a sip from his coffee. The smell of the roasted beans wafting over and it filled the stalker’s nostrils with its sweet aroma.

****

Discomfort rustled in the back of Ian’s mind and he looked around. He could not see anything but it felt like someone was watching him. Discarding his paranoia as fatigue from a long days work, he turned back to the computer. The tool bar at the bottom of his screen said it was five minutes past twelve and Ian took off his glasses to rub at his tired eyes. Repositioning his glasses, he closed his work application and stared at the family photo that made up his desktop.

Ian felt peace in his mind as he stared at the face of his beautiful raven-haired wife. A physicist like himself, she was the love of his life. Tracy had always supported him through all his crazy ideas. He picked up his son’s science test from the table and looked at the mark, a scientist’s son that gets a ‘C’ in science. Ian scratched his head. He had no idea what to do with James. The boy was a genius but refused to study, all he was interested in these days was his damn Ju-Jitsu. No matter how many concerns Ian expressed about the potential dangers related to the sport, James just ignored him with reckless abandon. Why could he not have been more like his younger brother Louis? At least he was developing his talents, a straight ‘A’ student with special scholarships since he hit grade school.

Ian let out a loud sigh. He was about to stand up to go to bed when he realised he had promised to send an email to his research partner, Hans Schroeder. Ian opened up his emails and began smacking away at the keyboard.

The intruder behind the curtain grinned, he loved to toy with his prey, the terror they experienced added all sorts of new weapons to his repertoire, and the increasing power fed his lust. Slowly and quietly, he eased the window latch open and loosened the friction hinge. Timing was everything when fuelling someone’s paranoia.

*****

The shady figure moved to ready his hand at the window. With as much force as he could muster, he slammed the window open, causing it to come to a smashing halt at the full length of its outward swinging hinge. The loud crashing sound of metal and shattering glass ripped Ian out of his calm state, causing him to jump up with fright. Ian fixed his skewed glasses and scanned around the room.

Cautiously Ian walked towards the window to see what had caused the ruckus and the unseen shade moved himself back in behind the curtains. Ian pulled back the shattered frame and battled with his logic as he argued with himself about closing the window earlier that night. He paused as he realised that there seemed to be no wind. Panic spiked into his heart.

Ian closed his eyes and softly said, “There is nothing to be afraid of out there. It is probably just some kids playing a prank.”

Ian popped his head outside to see if there was someone around, and softly called out, “Hello?”

There was no answer. There was no sound other than the light patter of fine drops bouncing on the roof. He felt something brush over his shoulder and he swung himself about. There was nothing there but for his empty study. Cold chills ran down Ian’s spine as he tried to make sense of the situation. He had been struggling with an irrational fear of the dark since he was a kid, a particularly embarrassing problem for a man of science who only believed in that which he could prove.

The structured formulas that made up all the objects in Ian’s world slowly disappear. The gripping fear in Ian’s mind had temporarily rocked his belief system and he was beginning to see the world in terms of the supernatural.

The light in the study had dimmed. As Ian’s paranoia became more intense, the place began to look gritty and unused, imagery that would fit right into an old ghost story. Even the bookcase in the back of the study looked battered, and its books were beaten and grey. Cobwebs were beginning to form all over and thick layers of dust coated the room.



The hidden man smiled at the change in Ian’s perception. Slowly, he closed the window. He waited for Ian’s new reality to settle and then, with a loud clang, he dropped the latch.



Ian jumped around to see what the sound was and fear overwhelmed his features. With all his considerable scientific knowledge, he tried to puzzle out what was happening around him. He was trying to convince himself that it was simply his mind playing tricks.



The figure could feel Ian’s fear building. The unknown terrified Ian and as the possibilities within the unknown grew, so did the power Ian was giving it, a power that the dark stranger was happily feeding on.

One more push, thought the man, he is nearly ready.

He looked around the room and wondered what he should do next. He could sense new things that Ian’s fear had unlocked, one of which was a poltergeist, a concept that was not limited in its movement and far more dangerous than just a few shadows.

The prowler focused his mind and pulled up the essence of what Ian saw as a ghost. Movies had luckily indoctrinated Ian well enough, and the lurking predator could easily form a picture of what this incorporeal being was in Ian’s world. He fixed on the idea and transformed himself into its shape. He could feel the weight of his body lift up off the floor and separate from the lightless corner he had been hiding in. he studied his own hand as it went from a shadow to solid matter and then entirely transparent. He smiled and placed his hand up to the light. It no longer hurt. Using his mind, he moved towards the computer on the desk, stopping himself next to the chair.

*****

Ian struggled with his thoughts as he made a futile effort to clear his mind. He could not afford to lose his sanity or all his work would end up discredited. Ian heard the screeching of a plastic stand scratching on a wooden surface and he straightened up. He did not want to look. If he was losing his mind, he was going to try his best not to show it. He could just block it all out.

The crashing sound of his computer screen, heavily slamming into the floor caught Ian by surprise, and before he could resist, he had jumped around to face the desk. A few inches above his office chair hung a man, suspended in mid air, with a long black trench coat. Water dripped from him, causing a puddle to form on the floor. Ian’s eyes stretched wide and he made a final attempt to regain his sanity, but with no success.

Ian stumbled backwards to the right corner of the room, fear and confusion spiking through his chest in a throbbing panic. The concept was overwhelming and his mind could not deal with the idea of a ghost. Again, Ian’s reality began to warp, giving his stalker more power.

Ian sat down, grabbed his legs in a ball, closed his eyes and began repeating, “It is not real. It is not real…”

*****

The hunter cracked a sadistic grin and flashed out of existence to reappear at the window. He focused on a piece of broken glass and caused it to float up to him. He could feel his current form becoming stronger. He set himself down next to Ian and caught the floating glass in his right hand. He was sure the sharp edge of the glass would have bit into his hand if his body consisted of normal material substance. He fixed his mind on the shard and made it disappear.

Crouching down, he whispered in Ian’s ear, “I assure you I am as real as the air you breathe,” Ian’s eyes snapped open and with that, the man took Ian’s weakened right arm, pulled it open and slashed the Ulnar Artery in his wrist with the invisible shiv.

The thrill of cutting into Ian’s flesh sent pleasure rippling through the murderer’s body. Sure, he could have killed Ian in a much more flashy way, especially considering the powers granted to him by his ghostly form, but it was so much more satisfying to do the murdering in person. After all, if it looked like a suicide it was less likely someone would investigate in too much detail.

Ian thought to scream, but he did not want to expose his family to this danger. Perhaps it would leave when he was dead.

Ian did not resist the dark figure as he took his other arm. With another satisfying chill coursing through him, he ripped open the next artery. A light blood spray arched through the air as Ian’s heart continued to slave blindly. The killer’s own heart was racing with excitement but he calmly made the piece of glass visible and placed the shard in Ian’s left hand.

The door behind the looming man swung open and he looked back to see who had walked in on his kill. A small boy of about thirteen stood looking at his father and said, “I cannot sleep dad.”

Realisation was slow to settle on the young teenager. At first, the sight puzzled him and groggy from sleep he asked, “What are you doing dad?”

His dad did not answer and the intruder stood back out of the way. He knew the boy could not see him. The dark haired boy walked over to his father, rubbing his eyes, he knelt next to Ian. Realisation dropped in on the child and panicked pain shot through the boy’s chest as he saw the blood pouring from his dad’s right hand.

The boy grabbed Ian’s wrist and tried to stop the bleeding, failing to notice the other wrist was bleeding as well.

The killer watched the boy as he began to cry out, “Help! Somebody help me!” not stopping his attempt to save his father’s life.

Ian looked down at his son and lifted his bleeding left hand to place it on the boy’s shoulder. His face was pale and he struggled to speak, all he could muster was, “Run Louis…” before all strength left him and his head dropped back against the wall. An abnormal cold flooded over Ian’s body before he finally gave in to the nagging desire to close his eyes.

As death neared, the man grinned maliciously, the part that he had killed for so many times was upon him. Blood loss induced delirium set in and Ian’s world began to warp. Thoughts of god, angels, devils and demons began to flood into the reality.

The figure watched as a bright light opened above Ian and an elegant woman descended down to sit next to him. The man moved further away to avoid interfering with the scene. The angelic woman stretched out her perfectly white wings to their full span, twisting the room’s dimensions to make enough space for them to fit. She raised her hand and Ian reached up to take it. His body did not actually move, but rather his spirit grabbed on to her fingers. A bright light exploded from them that engulfed everything in the study.

The man felt peace washing over him. He felt the satisfaction as if he had just finished a large Sunday meal, cosily burning in his belly. The light disappeared and Ian’s world began to collapse around him. The killer could see buildings and roads collapse into the well of black nothingness below as Ian’s life force faded out of existence.

Every time was different. Each victim brought a new experience, a new rush. He looked at Louis, still struggling to save his father. The bleeding had ceased, but it was not from the boy’s labouring, instead it was because Ian’s heart had finally stopped beating.

The black-clad figure walked over to the boy as he continued to cry out for help. The child’s calls stopped and he looked up at the man. It seemed the boy could actually see him. Puzzlement formed on the man’s face as he studied the boy’s awed expression. He did not have any desire to kill someone so young, he was not a complete monster, but he did need a new place to go and the boy intrigued him.