It's been several years since this happened. But I never had the courage to put it into words. Every time I try to forget the experience, it gnaws its way back to the forefront of my mind. The longest I've gone is several weeks before remembering, but it always comes back.
The overhanging clouds had made the sky dark that entire week. Certain elements of the story get foggy at times, but it started on a dreary morning, that much I can say for certain. Since it had been raining off and on, I had brought my umbrella on my way to work. It was a short walk, the place I worked was only about ten minutes from my apartment at an average pace.
I had the opening shift that morning which meant I was up at 3:00 am, the sun hadn't peaked over the horizon and the only illumination on my way in was the streetlamps and the light from my phone. I had been scrolling through my emails, catching up on the spam I had received overnight. Despite the darkness, I had never had any trouble on my way to work and being a man, I've won the genetic lottery on being comfortable walking alone in the early morning or late night with little fear. With that, my eyes were glued to the screen of my phone.
Halfway through my morning walk, I heard a whisper. I couldn't quite make it out, but the noise was enough for me to stop mid step and look around. I tore my eyes away from the phones screen with a furrowed brow and scanned my surroundings. The sound had been so slight I wasn't entirely sure I had heard it. My stomach tightened instinctually, though I hadn't strictly been scared at the time, at least not yet. I was walking from a residential area, and it wasn't terribly uncommon for me to pass some stragglers from the nearby bar on their way home.
"Hello?" I asked at a normal volume to be considerate of the early hour. I hadn't seen anyone or anything around me, though the streetlamps that illuminated my walkway did little to eliminate the harsh shadows mere feet from their source.
I stood and listened. Something that felt off to me in that moment was how silent it was. There were no bugs, birds, or wildlife of any sort making their natural sounds that morning. My ears strained to hear a response as my eyes did their best to pierce the darkness that surrounded the well beaten concrete path.
Minutes passed in my stationary state of awareness before I chanced a look back at my phone, 3:23. I made the decision to keep moving. I only had some much time to get to work, and whatever I had heard was clearly gone, the rest of my day went on without a hitch.
I didn't think about what had happened again until the next morning. Halfway through my walk I heard the same whisper, again, I couldn't make it out, though it sounded slightly louder this time. Again, I stood in silence and looked for the source, and again, I decided to keep moving my way to work to not be late.
This cycle repeated for the whole week. Each day I walked to work I heard the whispering, and each day I would stop and look around. The verbalization got louder, though my mind couldn't quite wrap itself around the sound.
Until the fifth day.
I don't know why I didn't change anything during that time. I didn't try an alternate route. I didn't look further into the nearby woods that lined the walkway. I just stood and listened. It probably was because I hadn't been scared yet, I was mostly curious.
I regret not taking further precautions.
The fifth day I walked to work I finally heard it. I heard what it was trying to say to me. On the fifth day, I was terrified.
"Come with us."
It was a short sentence; the words seem to wriggle themselves into my brain and float around. I pivoted on the spot, facing the nearby tree line. A figure stood at the edges of the trees, one hand outstretched beckoning me towards it. It was humanoid in shape, no more than three and a half feet tall. My brain immediately tried to rationalize it to be a small child in a black raincoat with its hood covering its facial features.
"Come with us," the voice repeated. I've spent a lot of time trying to describe the voice that was now repeating itself in my head and haven't quite found the words for it. It was tantalizing, foreboding, loud and quiet at the same time. Most of all, it was unnatural. Each whisper was different, some soft, some harsh, all with an unnatural cadence of something that didn't have mastery of any human language. When I think back, it makes sense that I couldn't understand it the first four days.
My body responded before my mind did, adrenaline kicked in and I took a step back. My eyes were fixated on the child that I somehow knew wasn't a child.
Or maybe it was, maybe it was a child that was taken by them. I'm still not sure what happens if you do it. If you come with them.
I say them because when my eyes finally blinked, there were more figures. All in the same black raincoats. All in varying heights. The sudden appearance of all these people – or things caused me to reflexively take another step away from them. My back impacted the nearby lamp post, which then caused me to lose my balance and trip backwards.
"Come with us," the discordant cacophony of voices screamed into my head. The gathered continued to stand at the tree line, just outside of the light of the streetlamp. The noise in my head was becoming painful.
I almost did it. I almost got up in that moment and walked towards them. The sudden urge was almost undeniable. As if something deep within me was awakening, I desperately wanted to join them, to shy away from the harsh light above me and be enveloped in their arms. Their voices sang to me, each with their own flavor of longing in my head, a longing that I somehow knew I could satisfy for the both of us.
My backpack saved me from whatever life awaited just beyond the tree line. One of the straps had become loose in my fall and caught on my shoe. The sudden tension caused me to lose my footing as my body began to stand. I tripped forward and felt my knee impact the concrete, removing the top layer of skin and rapidly causing myself to bleed.
The pain snapped me out of whatever stupor had come over me, the discordant choir of voices in my head silenced. When I looked up, the gathering was gone except for the singular child I had seen before.
"Come with us," the figure's hand continued to be outstretched towards me.
I shook my head at the child and retrieved my phone from the floor. I opened the flashlight app and tried to shine it in the child's direction. By the time the light reached the area it had been standing, it was gone.
I didn't go into work that day, or any day after that. I went home and patched myself up. I moved. I distanced myself from those woods.
It didn't matter.
This brings me to why I'm finally writing about this experience. To why I can never forget what happened to me.
The child followed me. It continues to watch me. Sometimes alone. Sometimes with what I've come to call "The Family."
It took some time for it to find me after I moved. I thought I had removed myself from its reach.
The longest I've gone without seeing it is three weeks. It appears to me, always at night, always calling me to come with it. To 'come with us.'
I've learned it's terrified of light, always at the edges of whatever illumination I have. It also never comes to me when there are other people around. I've tried to surround myself with company as much as I can.
But there's always a point when you're alone. Late at night in the solitude of your room. I sleep with the lights on, and sometimes it wards the child away.
Regardless, it always comes back. Watching me through the window of my room. Appearing in the distance as the sun sets.
Its call to me has become incessant, and nearly irresistible. It's worn me down. I find that my irrational mind wants me to come with it. I want to see what's just beyond the horizon. So much so that I had to put extra locks on my door to prevent myself from sleep walking to the child.
I know it's not right. I know it's not natural. So, I've come to warn you of what happened to me.
I don't know if there's a way to change my fate, or what I could've done differently. I'm not sure if there's something about me that it's latched on to.
All I know now is that deep inside of me the feeling is continuing to grow.
I want to join the family.
