Footsteps At The Door

Matthew Pearce was not superstitious. He didn't believe in ghosts, fairies or zombies, except in games. This was no game. He closed his eyes, remembering.

Flashback

"Come on, Matt!" A pretty girl stood at the roadside, pouting at the approaching boy. Matt was dawdling, following his girlfriend along the busy road "We haven't got all day, you know"

"Actually Garnett, we do" The young man pushed lanky black hair out of his eyes and shrugged his denim-covered shoulders "And next week too. You just had to go to the shops now"

Garnett frowned, blue eyes flickering with hurt as she backed up to the roadside.

"What's wrong with you" She took another step back "You-"

"Garnett" Matt bolted forward, but Garnett backed away, not seeing the car and it not seeing her. Matt stopped, stared and did the only thing that pierced the haze of shock. He ran. Ran away from the road and the screams and the blood. Ran from his dead girlfriend. He ran up the stairs of his nearby flat (with windows overlooking the accident) and slid down the wall, dazed.

End Flashback

Now sitting here, shivering, Matt recalled the events that followed the accident with surprising, and almost terrifying clarity.

Flashback

At first, it was easy just to ignore, just pranksters, everyone agreed. But Matthew woke up each day in the flat, looked out his window and seen the same spot on the road awash with fresh blood where Garnett had fallen. He had mentioned it to Phillipa 'Pip' Carter, his friend since childhood, and she had merely shrugged and replied.

"Garnett spent her life being the centre of attention. She doesn't want you to forget her" She blinked as he snorted "Don't scoff, you asked my opinion, I gave it"

"So what do you think, O wise one?" Pip scowled.

"Hide somewhere for exactly an hour before, and an hour after midnight on All Souls' Eve" Pip recalled old lore "Which happens to be tonight, how fortunate"

"That's an old superstition"

"Use it" She advised "It won't kill you, and if you don't Garnett might" Pip had then returned to her book, which was her version of a dismissal.

Matthew sighed and trudged up the stairs of his flat, purposely going up the back so he didn't have to see them cleaning the street.

End Flashback

So that was where Matthew was now. Following his superstitious friends' old myths. He glanced at his watch, and 11:23 blinked back at him. He sighed, and was about to move when he heard something. He froze, the soft click and creak of a door meaning little on their own, but together they indicated somebody approaching. He heard them then.

Footsteps. Soft footsteps at the door. His eyes widened from his position under the bed. He hadn't heard any of the downstairs doors open, nor had he heard the opening of a window.

They were drawing closer now, and Matthew started to shake, fear clawing at him. The footsteps finally stopped in front of the bed, and Matthew found his eyes fixed to a pair of feet. They were delicate, with a graceful daisy chain tattoo around one ankle, and they were wearing bright summer sandals. Or they would have been bright, if Matthew had been able to look past the fact that the feet were ghostly pale, and flecked with silver blood. He would have seen these things clearer, if he had been able to look past the familiarity of the feet. They were Garnett's.

Matthew's heart was beating so hard he was surprised when the feet turned and padded away. He stayed frozen until the revealed legs covered with a torn denim skirt vanished out the other door, and the cold he hadn't noticed until now faded away. The footsteps died suddenly. He stared at his watch, the lights proclaiming it 1:00. Unable to believe that it had been that long, he struggled out from under the bed and headed for the door, as he went, the room got colder and colder. And when he opened the door, his breath came out as steam.