He walked through the darkness and could hear the sound of breathing behind him. Don’t look back, there’s nothing there. It’s just your imagination. The trek back to his room seemed longer; maybe it was just the thought of an imaginary figure following closely behind him, then again... He returned to his closet and opened the worn journal. He flipped through the pages until he found the picture of the Man in Red again and flipped the page.
March 3rd
The hallway is getting longer. My parents say I’m crazy but it is. I’ve counted time and time again. The numbers aren’t the same. Never the same. Everyone says I’m crazy but I’m not. I’m sane. Do you hear that?
Alvin listened to the nightly noises.
He won’t come for me in my room. He only will show in the hallway. That damned hallway. What does he want? Why is he doing this?
Alvin could take no more of the passage and turned a few pages.
March 7th
The rash has gotten worse. I think if I keep scratching it’ll begin to tear the skin. Problem is I can’t stop scratching. It itches so fucking much!
Alvin set the book down and closed his eyes. He tried to convince himself that all of this was just a figment of his overactive imagination. He’d been a decent writer in high school, maybe this was just elaborate story he decided to write. But why would he do that to himself? Why would he lie? He knew the truth, even if the doctors tried to force it out of him.
The Man in Red was real and he had been torturing him. He wanted Alvin to find this book, to remember him. Know who was going to kill him. He wanted Alvin to know that this was not simply a coincidental killing but that he’d planned it and had lied in wait for many years.
No! The Man in Red was not real. He couldn’t be. He’d prove to himself that the Man in Red was not real. Alvin rose to his feet, turned off the light, and, in a fake show of bravery, marched over to the door. He laid his hand on the handle and turned. He pulled the door open to reveal a dark hallway.
He looked into the darkness and squinted. Two white lights appeared and vanished once again. Alvin slammed the door shut and pressed his back against it. He was tired, that’s all, just tired. If he went back to sleep, he’d be okay. He climbed into bed and under the covers. He closed his eyes and whispered over and over that he was dreaming.
However, try as he might, when he closed his eyes all he saw was a tall man in red. He got out of bed and went back over to his closet. He pulled the string down but no light came on. He felt around the walls to find they were not the plastered walls of his closet but brick walls instead. He squinted in the darkness and could see a hallway leading out of his closet. He avoided the opening and searched instead for the journal. Alas, he found it in the corner.
As he rose up, he could see a dastardly smile with the two white beams peering out of the darkness. He walked out of his closet and turned on a light.
April 27th
My parents have decided to have me committed to the nut house. I don’t know when I’ll be able to leave. They refuse to believe he exists. They don’t know. Don’t know that he’s after me. They don’t believe me. I took the hallway once. He wouldn’t let me go back. I wasn’t allowed to return to my room. The only way to escape was down one of the holes. I awoke to find it was morning. However, I was not so fortunate the next night. His maze keeps changing. He’s doing it to fuck with my brain. The noises…Oh God, the dragging noises. I don’t know what he wants. He won’t leave me alone.
Alvin flipped a few more pages in the journal to find several intricate maps and one final passage.
July 28th
The doctors can’t help me. They say that I’m too far gone. They say the Man in Red isn’t real…and even if he was he couldn’t get me in here. I wish this was a lie. I wish they were wrong. He still comes to me. He wants me to play in his fucking maze. I don’t think I’m going to make it through the night. He no longer waits for me to enter…lately he’s been coming by force. Coming in and taking me to his maze. That fucking maze!
Alvin’s breath stopped but the sound of breathing could still be heard. He slowly looked up to the figure draped in red standing in his doorway. It wore that dastardly smile and stared with those empty eyes. This was the Man in Red. Alvin knew he couldn’t escape. He couldn’t kill him, he’d tried that before; he couldn’t run, he’d tried that; and he couldn’t erase him, he’d tried so hard to do that. The truth was that The Man in Red was real and he wanted to play. All Alvin had to do was play in the maze. That eternal fucking maze.
"The Man in Red" by Kakarot89
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