Suddenly plagued with dreams of a figure trying to enter his house, with waking visions of some tormentor, Jamie Hayes finds his grip on reality slowly falling down, leading him to an adventure that may just push him to insanity.
It stands. The figure clothed only in the shadow of night, frozen still. Over the broken wall it peers into the garden. Over the slate pond green and thick as pea soup with algae. Over the wood chips it looks and up, up beyond the red brick pathway cracked with age and lined with dying flowers and choking weeds. Over the large stone step and past the swing, blowing back and forth in the chilly breeze. The figure stands outside the garden in the alleyway and watches, waiting, wanting to get closer.
That's how it starts and ends. Every other night I have that nightmare. Once it stood at the end of the alleyway, like it was searching. But it's getting closer. Geez, even thinking about it gives me goosebumps. For some reason, it terrifies me even when I'm awake.