Autumn Night

One Saturday night, I was up late playing on the computer. When I finally logged out, the clock showed two minutes to three. Glad I wouldn't have to get up early, I started getting ready for bed. It was late autumn, bringing with it some very cold winds. Before going to bed, I decided to lock the balcony door to avoid freezing in the morning. Approaching the balcony, I looked out onto the street. It was dark and very quiet, which is, of course, normal for a residential area at that time of day. Only a few streetlights illuminated the roadway.

Closing the door and turning the lock, I was about to turn off the light when I suddenly noticed movement in the street: a dark figure stepped out from one of the trees growing on the side of the road. Apparently, she'd been there before, leaning against a tree, but I hadn't noticed her before because she was so still. The outline of the figure was recognizable as a person, but the face was indistinct in the darkness. He straightened up and turned his head in my direction. It seemed he was looking straight at me. This gave me a strange feeling, and I immediately turned around and headed for the light switch.

I couldn't understand my own anxiety: who knows who might be wandering the street at night? And I live on the fifth floor... But the feeling of unease still lingered, and after taking a few steps, I turned back to look again from the balcony.

He was on the balcony.

He stood motionless, staring at me with a blank gaze. I, too, froze, unable to move or scream, and awaited his next move with dread. But when he tilted his head slightly, lifting his upper lip to reveal a chilling grin, his seemingly glassy eyes never leaving mine, my sense of self-preservation overcame my numbness, and I darted into the kitchen. There, I grabbed the knife lying on the table and prepared to defend myself, standing in front of the doorway. I was shaking all over, and my heart felt like it was about to burst out of my chest. I stood there for a while. But no sound came from the next room. Then I picked up the remote control from the table and turned on the small TV sitting on top of the refrigerator, then closed the curtains.

I wanted most of all to call someone close to me, but the phone was still lying on the computer desk in that very room, and the very thought of going there for it made me shudder. I spent the rest of the night in the kitchen.

I pondered for a long time, going over in my head various theories about what could be out there on the balcony. I couldn't recall any details of the man's appearance. Or was he even a man? The only thing that remained etched in my memory for years was his pale, frozen face with sunken cheeks and empty, glassy eyes. And, of course, his predatory smile...

Over and over again I asked myself: what would have happened if I hadn't closed the balcony door? And was the door any significant barrier to that creature?

When dawn broke, I made coffee. Only when I heard the roar of engines outside and the sound of footsteps on the stairwell did I dare to draw back the curtain. Outside, a normal morning was dawning: cars drove by, a few people walked along the sidewalk, a street sweeper was clearing fallen leaves. And then, grabbing my knife, I cautiously entered the room. There was no one on the balcony. Only the wind gently rocked the open window on the other side of the door.