He Sees You When You're Sleeping

3rd December- The Lone Soldier

Nobody knows who built the Lone Soldier. Some say it was never built- it just came into being. Others say that it was built by a soldier who died in a war. But they say you see it out of the corner of your eye, and it's gone when you look away. It's that feeling when your neck hairs stand on end, or when you have that sinking feeling in your gut. They say it can kill with just a look, that it can even wipe out whole villages, and make it look like nobody lived there in the first place. But it prefers to pick its prey off one after another. Play with it, like a cat. Nobody knows why, or how, but it's not just a myth. It'll pick us off one by one, and it won't stop until every last one of us is dead.

      The night was calm. A fresh layer of fine snow coated the ground. A half-moon glowed a pale blue, casting a ghostly light upon the village. The trill of insects filled the midnight air, and a light breeze rustled the few remaining leaves on the trees.
      The town was empty. Overgrown bushes and weeds spilled onto the pavements. The snow lay undisturbed on the ground, except for the occasional paw-marks of a passing fox. All the lights were out. The whole scene looked as if frozen in time.
      A lone snowman stood atop a hill, overlooking the town. Two black coal eyes stared blankly into space, glinting in the moonlight. A carrot protruded from the centre of its head. A wide, sinister smile was plastered on its face.
      The wind picked up and swirled around the snowman. Snow and ice were whipped up from the ground, obscuring the snowman from sight. When the wind cleared, nothing was left of the snowman but a pile of the ground made up of two button eyes, a carrot, and a wide, sinister smile.

      The snowman outside Romelle's cottage gave her the creeps. She could have sworn it was closer than the night before. That had been the case for about a week now, starting from the night when it just appeared out of nowhere. No matter how many times she kicked it down, it always reappeared by 2:31 in the morning. She'd tried filming it, but the footage was always corrupted or blurred. She'd tried staying awake all through the night. But somehow she always missed it. Either she'd blink, or look away, and then where there'd been an empty space before was the snowman. The exact same one as the night before. She could recognise it by that cold glint in its eyes, which seemed to follow her around, and that wide, sinister smile. She always told herself it was just some stupid prank played by the village children, but she couldn't shake the feeling that there was something almost supernatural about it. Something haunted. And every night, it was getting closer.
      That night, Romelle was unable to fall asleep. She tossed and turned under her blankets, whatever short dreams she had troubled. It felt colder in the house. Colder than before. She wrapped the covers tighter around her, shivering. She grabbed her favourite long red scarf which she'd knitted for herself a while back. It wasn't much, but it would help keep her warmer. That was when she heard it.

Knock. Knock.

      Romelle jumped. Someone- something- was pounding on her door. She held her breath and squeezed her eyes shut and tried her best to ignore it. It came again. This time, from the window. Romelle took a deep breath. With a shaking hand, she reached for the curtains and pushed them aside.
      There was nothing there. Only the wind, then. She returned to her bed. Seconds later, more knocking followed. It sounded more urgent this time. Urgent in a bad way. Romelle turned on her bedside lamp. Her eyes moved to the window once again. She shrieked.
      The snowman was on the other side of the glass, staring at her, its face only inches away from hers. Was it just her, or was its smile wider than usual?
      Romelle staggered backwards, almost tripping over her bed. She refused to break eye contact with the snowman- she had this feeling that if she took her eyes off it, even for a second, it would move closer. And then would come inside.
      She heard a knock on the door. And then the other window. And the shed. She was surrounded by them. Romelle spun in every direction, trying to pinpoint each location. Then, silence. She glanced back at the window. The snowman was gone. Only a light breeze stirred the snow on the ground.
      Releasing a long sigh, she shut the curtains. Nightmares never made any sense. She took a step back and heard a soft crunching sound behind her. Like that of when you walk on snow. Slowly, Romelle turned around to face it.

      Nobody knows who built the Lone Soldier. Some say it was never built- it just came into being. Others say that it was built by a soldier who died in a war. But they say you see it out of the corner of your eye, and it's gone when you look away. It's that feeling when your neck hairs stand on end, or when you have that sinking feeling in your gut. They say it can kill with just a look, that it can even wipe out whole villages, and make it look like nobody lived there in the first place. But it prefers to pick its prey off one after another. Play with it, like a cat. We don't know how, but we know why. And it's not just a myth. It'll pick us off one by one, and it won't stop until every last one of us is gone.

      A week later, the village was empty. The lights were out. Undisturbed snow coated the roofs and the pavements. A single snowman stood overlooking the empty town. Behind it, new snowmen rose from the ground, building themselves up. One built itself up beside the snowman. It wore a long red scarf.

The Lone Soldier was building itself an army.