Date: 2019-04-10 04:00:00+00:00
Rights: Copyright 2019 Matt Converse. All rights reserved.

Window Watcher

Matt Converse

Encompass Ink

This Book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, duplicated, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

Window Watcher

Copyright © 2019 by Matt Converse

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Cover Artist: Rue Volley

Edited by EAL Editing Services

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission of the author.

Contents

1. The Man in the Window

2. The Nightmare

3. The Killer

4. Thargold

5. An Unexpected Twist

6. A Dark Night

7. Window Watching

8. The Ring

9. At the Window

The Man in the Window

Sometimes I wonder why I’m not lonely. I spend most of my life alone, staring at a screen, either my computer or TV. Someone looking from the outside might think it’s a lonely life, but it’s not. There is a reason alone and lonely are two different words. I love spending time with myself. Being in your own little world is an asset when you’re a writer. My writing cave is where I shut off the rest of the world to create one of my own. Still, I know I should get out more and as spring arrives and the sun tries to beam through my closed shades, at the very least I should let some of the outside world in. I take a few more sips of coffee and then get up from my desk and PC and walk over to my bedroom window that looks out into an air well. I’m on the second floor in a three-story apartment building, so this window doesn’t get any direct sunlight during the winter. But in the spring, when the sun is higher in the sky, the sun beams down into the air well around two or three in the afternoon.

I approach the shades a bit like a vampire and decide to ease into it and just turn the slats a bit. Rays of sunshine beam through, creating stripes of sunlight and shade. I like the pattern it makes and step closer to the shades and peek through them into the outside world. I look up to the blue sky above and smile. I step back and pull my shades all the way up and the sun beams onto me and into my bedroom. It lights up the room and I see the hardwood floors could use a little cleaning, but still look pretty good in the sunlight.

I never go out in the sun without sunglasses on, so I squint from the sunlight hitting my face and shade my eyes with my hand as I step closer to the window and look out. I have to admit, the sun does feel good. I feel the warm rays on my arms and face and it makes me smile. I don’t like the cold and I’m glad that season is officially over. Of course, in San Francisco that usually just means leaving fifty-degree temperatures behind and welcoming temperatures in the sixties and low seventies, but it still feels good. I stand there for a moment just soaking in the rays.

Although I’m on the second floor, I appear to be on the ground floor from this window because there are storage areas and a garage underneath; there are no actual apartments on the ground floor. Straight across from me the shades are down on both windows. I rarely see who lives there because the shades are almost always down, but I know it’s a married couple with two kids. I hear them sometimes. They usually speak English, but sometimes it’s Spanish, most often when they are on the phone with someone, I’m guessing maybe Grandma and Grandpa. To the left is the stairwell wall, and to the right is my own kitchen window. Because it’s narrow, I can’t see the apartments to the right or left, and glance up at the only other apartment I can see—it is above the one across from me on the top floor. One of the shades is down, but one is up and I see a sideways view of a guy standing near the window. It looks like he’s talking to someone who isn’t in view of the window. I’ve never seen him before; he must be a new tenant. There was a woman living there before. Because of the angle, I can just see him from the waist up, but he is very good looking. He has a white tank top on and his biceps and chest look like he hits the gym quite often. He is probably in his twenties, several years younger than I am, and has black, wavy hair. He looks like James Dean or one of those movie stars from back in the fifties or sixties— he’s extremely sexy.

I notice now he has his cell phone to his ear in his left hand; I can’t quite see it, but can tell that’s what he’s doing. Just then, he turns toward the window. I back away from my window out of the beam of sunlight and sit on the edge of the bed so my face and eyes are out of the sun. I don’t want him to think I was staring at him, even if I was. I was so busy looking into his world, I almost forgot with a turn and a look he could look into mine. But for now I saw him and he didn’t see me, and I want to keep it that way. I’m not sure why, but there is something titillating about seeing someone who doesn’t know they are being seen. It’s like you are privy to a little peek into their life that no one knows about, and there is some thrill in knowing or seeing something about someone when they don’t know that you know— and that no one else knows.

Since I’m in the shadowed part of my room now, he doesn’t seem to notice me at all and turns and walks away from the window until I can’t see him. I yawn and stretch my arms. It is early afternoon and is a gorgeous day. I tell myself I should go out for a walk and get some sun and fresh air instead of staring at my computer or TV screen, but instead I stare up at the window. Like my TV and computer screen, the window is square with a plate of glass that I am looking through. It strikes me that even though I am now looking at the real world, I am still watching it in a very similar way.

The man in the window appears again, no longer on the phone. His back is to me, and he begins stretching. He does this for several more minutes until he turns sideways and peels off his t-shirt. My heart races a little bit; this little show is starting to get interesting. It’s more than I was expecting. His arms and chest are muscled but not bulky; he has a natural looking body. From the side view, I can see his stomach is very flat. This guy has a great body. I silently chuckle and tell myself I should pull my shades up more often. Who knew just pulling up my shades could be so entertaining? After a few more minutes of stretching, he walks away, then walks past the window again gulping some bottled water.

My body never looked quite that good, even in my twenties. I play tennis but don’t work out, so I don’t have much in the way of defined muscles. I have more of a tall, lean body. But for a guy in my late thirties now, I’m still in excellent shape. Although I imagine this guy is in his mid-twenties, I haven’t really had that good of a look at his face. But that body sure is banging. I realize I’m being a voyeur, but it’s not as if I planned it—it’s just a happy accident.

I look back up, and stare at the window for several more minutes. There’s no sign of him so I decide to walk away— and then think, well…maybe one more minute. I stare up at the window for several more minutes and then sigh, telling myself, I guess the show is over for today. I laugh at myself for hoping for more— I really do need to get out more. Just as I’m about to walk away from the window-watching, he appears again and the plot quickly thickens— he’s not alone. He’s standing sideways with his shirt off, but now another guy is standing across from him, talking to him. A screen is in his lower window, so I can faintly hear their voices, but not what they’re saying. My heart starts beating faster. What’s going on here? Is he gay? Is this a hook up I’m witnessing? It’s getting more exciting by the minute. I definitely should come out of my writing cave more often.

Just then, the other guy brushes back his tan blond hair and leans in to kiss him. Now, I’m definitely feeling excited. But the guy that lives there turns his head away. Is he not gay after all? What the hell is this about? This is a plot twist I didn’t see coming.

Suddenly, he slaps the blond guy across the face. It’s a loud smack— I almost jump it startles me so much. I didn’t expect this. Are they going to fight? Did a gay friend of his just hit on him? He squeezes the guy’s lips between his thumb and forefinger and barks something at him. I think they are going to fight. Instead, he pushes the blond guy’s head down, then pushes him to his knees. My eyes widen. Oh my god he didn’t want to kiss, but he’s now making him blow him! I guess the slap was just a little foreplay, these two must like it a little rough.

Even though I’m not into rough play myself, this seems more like roleplay so I’m getting excited myself like I’m watching a free live porn show or something. I see the blond guy’s head going back and forth, but I can’t quite get a good view of exactly what my new neighbor is working with. My eyes dart around for a second, making sure no one is watching me watch. I feel myself getting more and more excited, and feel just a little mischievous for taking in this little show. This is getting good! I’m definitely being a voyeur now. But just then the guy reaches over and pulls the blind down. The show’s over, just like that. Damn! I was just starting to get worked up. I again have to laugh at myself for being so into it.

Just then my buzzer rings; am I expecting someone? Oh, that’s right, I am. I was so lost in this little window man fantasy that I forgot Icarus was coming over. We’ve been messing around for a few months, but nothing serious. He’s much younger than me, twenty-two, and is a salesperson downtown at Saks Fifth Avenue. He’s very much into fashion and looks like a model. He’s tall and blond with a gorgeous face and a smoking hot body. I joke to my friends that if he weren’t so perfect, he’d be perfect.

I buzz the gate to let him in, and a moment later I open my front door. As I do, I hear someone yell, coming from outside my window in the direction of the window I’d been watching. I think those guys are maybe playing even rougher now. It almost sounded like he was yelling for real—like he was yelling for help or something.

“Hey, my sexy man,” he greets me.

I’m not really his man, but he’s young, so I understand that’s just how he is. He drops his jacket on the sofa.

“Hey,” I say, giving him a quick kiss on the lips. “You’re looking good as always.”

“Oh, this little ensemble,” he says, beginning to pose. “From top to bottom, shirt by Gucci, Tom Ford shorts, and Prada shoes. And I get them all for a discount.”

“Oh is that so, is that Gucci shirt pure silk?”

“As a matter of fact this silk is made in…” he pauses, realizing I’m actually making fun of him. “Oh you! You have no appreciation for high fashion.”

“I just think you’d look hotter in a pair of sneakers and basketball shorts.”

He laughs but raises his eyebrows, telling me he appreciates that as a compliment.

“So have you been writing all morning again?” he asks. And before I can answer, he adds, “All work and no play make Heston a dull boy.” That smile of his is something else.

“It hasn’t been so boring today,” I say, walking over toward the window. “There was a little window action just before you got here.”

“Window action? What are you talking about, Heston?”

“Earlier, there were two guys going at it in the window. Well, before one of them pulled the shade down.”

“Really?”

He looks up at the window I’m gazing at, but the shades are down on both windows.

“You have a very vivid imagination, maybe you should put this into one of your stories,” Icarus says with a grin.

“Funny,” I tell him. “I make up enough stories when I’m writing, I don’t need to make them up in real life.”

“Hmmmm,” he says, looking up at the windows. “Sure looks dead to me. Not a sign of anyone. I think you’ve been cooped up in that writing cave of yours for too long. If you went with me out to the clubs more often you wouldn’t have to make up these stories. Did you have an imaginary friend when you were a kid too?”

I laugh, shaking my head. Just then, the blind goes up and there’s the guy. He has his tank top back on and seems to be by himself now. That was fast, I think to myself.

“Oh, wow, that guy? He’s hot!”

“You sure changed your tune in a hurry. But I think so too, he kind of reminds me of James Dean or some movie star from back then. He was with some blond guy, who was just starting to go down on him before he pulled the shade down.”

“Oh my, you were getting a show, weren’t you? So, he likes blonds,” he says, raising his eyebrows again with a twinkle in his eye. He takes both hands and runs them through his blond hair.

“You ho!” I tell him. “Well, I hope you like getting slapped.”

“Slapped?”

“Yeah, it was weird, the blond guy tried to kiss him and he turned his head and then slapped him. I wasn’t sure what to think, but then he pushed him down to his knees.”

“Kinky,” Icarus says. “But no, I don’t like getting slapped. At least, not in the face anyway,” he says with a smirk.

With that, I slap him on the butt. We both laugh.

“And right as you got here I thought I heard one of them yell—almost like he was yelling for help. I think they were doing a little role play and they like to play pretty rough.”

The man in the window walks out of view.

“You know, you wouldn’t have to be peeping at people out of your window if you had a boyfriend.”

I roll my eyes.

“Oh, here we go again with the boyfriend thing. I wasn’t peeping, I just looked out and there they were. And if I wanted a boyfriend, I’d have one.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he says, wrinkling his nose. “You don’t know what you’re missing. I’d make a great boyfriend.”

“I know you would, Icarus. You’d be a perfect boyfriend. You’re perfect, Icarus. Absolutely perfect.”

He squints at me, knowing that’s not what I want in a man.

“I’m not perfect. And as Tyra says, perfect is boring. And I’m not boring.”

“No, you’re not,” I agree with a smirk.

“So why won’t you just be my boyfriend already?”

He’s cute when he pouts.

“What is your thing about being my boyfriend? I told you I like things the way they are. You’re hot, we have a great time, and I don’t want or need to put some label on it. I like my own space; I have to have lots of time to myself to write.”

Now he is the one rolling his eyes.

“That’s a crock. Does every writer have to live alone? Lots of writers are married, or have a boyfriend or girlfriend, or even have kids.”

“And that’s them, and I’m me.”

“Oh, you’re impossible!” Icarus says.

“I don’t know why you want a boyfriend. You’re twenty-two and hot as hell; you should be playing the field like crazy. You’re too young to settle down or just see one guy. You can have any guy you want.”

“Apparently not any guy I guess,” he says, looking away.

“Oh, Icarus, you know I like you— you have me. I’m with you now.”

“For how long? An hour or two a couple of times a week. I just wish…”

“Yeah, I know what you wish,” I tell him, looking into his eyes. “I like you a lot. But I am who I am; I’m not going to change.”

“I just want to be in your life, and for more than a couple of hours a week. Don’t you think you’ll ever change the way you feel about it?”

“No, I just don’t see it, at least not any time soon.”

“I guess I’m not the guy I thought I was,” he says.

“Yes you are. There’s nothing wrong with you, Icarus— you have San Francisco on a string,” I tell him.

“Not quite all of San Francisco,” he says, looking forlorn and grabbing his jacket. “I’m in love with you, Heston.”

“I know you think you are, but you’re young. I like you and you like me, but I’m not going to say those words if I don’t mean them. It’s nothing against you, it’s just way too soon for that, and it’s not something I’m looking for.”

“It’s not something you’re looking for? How can anyone say that? How can you not want love? Who doesn’t need love? That’s crazy.”

“Well, I am an author. I’m supposed to be a little nuts.”

He laughs, but I can tell he’s a little frustrated over me not wanting to be his boyfriend and not saying those three words he wants me to say to him.

“I have love in my life,” I explain. “I have friends I love, a career I love, a Mom I love… I’m just not into that lovey-dovey stuff.”

He shakes his head.

“Ok, you win, be by yourself forever— I’m out of here,” he says, heading toward the door.

“Oh Icarus, don’t leave, you just got here. There’s no reason to be mad. I’m not telling you anything new.”

“That’s the problem,” he says. “We are just staying in the same place with no future.”

“I’m having fun the way it is now. Why can’t we just keep having fun?”

“With no possibility of it ever going any further? What’s the point?”

He takes another step toward the door. “Goodbye, Heston.”

“What does that mean?” I ask.

He steps to the door and grabs the door knob and turns it. “It means maybe you won’t see me for a very long time,” he says, swinging the door open dramatically and heading out. “Or at least until Friday night!”

As the door slams, I laugh to myself at that last line. He really is adorable, even when he’s mad. I like him a lot, but love? I think it’s more like lust. And he’s too young to even know what love is. The twenties are for figuring out what you like and what you want to do with your life. He has plenty of time to fall in love and have a boyfriend or partner, or even get married if he wants to. I don’t know why he’s so hell-bent on wanting me to be his ‘boyfriend’. I think part of it is his friends have boyfriends so he wants to say he has one too. He’s young. My friend Kevin says guys that young are only good for one thing. Ha.

I try to forget about Icarus being a little mad at me and do it the way I always do, getting lost in a world I’m creating. I spend the rest of the day writing the new book I’m working on and don’t get to bed until after midnight. Just as I do, I see the light go on in the guy’s window across the air well. My bed is in direct line with his window, and even with my shades down I can see the light of his bedroom window. Other nights I wouldn’t have even noticed the light on in his window, but now I’m looking for it. My curiosity gets the best of me, and I tip toe to the window and peek through the shades. As I look out into the outside world, again it hits me that just like when watching TV or being on my PC or phone, I am looking at something on the other side of a piece of glass. And it looks like my new favorite show is just starting.

I see my modern James Dean standing sideways in the window and now he’s with another guy! He’s wrapped in the arms of a young Latin guy a bit shorter than him, who is very good looking— you might even say sizzling hot. Two guys in the same day. My window man gets around, and seems to like variety; this guy is really different from the earlier one. He’s dark haired and a few years older than my window man— and has a very nice body.

The window man peels off his shirt and the other guy does the same. I realize I’m being a bit of a peeping Tom, but then again he is standing right in front of a window again, so he obviously likes to live dangerously. It sure seems like my neighbor likes to put on a little show. He could be anywhere in his apartment, but twice now has chosen to be right in front of the window when he starts fooling around with someone. This is no coincidence. He never looks out the window to see if anyone is looking, but he certainly has to be aware that someone could see him in action. I guess for every voyeur there is an exhibitionist.

The other guy drops to his knees, but just like the last time, he pulls down the shade just as it’s getting good. This guy is such a tease! I sigh and step back away from the window. I laugh to myself about being so intrigued by this guy. It really is like a little peep show. Just then, I hear a loud slap and then some voices going back and forth. It sounds like the rough stuff is a regular part of his sex. I walk back to my bed and gulp some water and then get back into bed, thinking about my window man. It’s almost like getting little teasers from the beginning of a porno, except it is a live show in the window. It’s definitely a turn on. I fall asleep still thinking about him.

I wake up and am a bit disoriented. I feel like I didn’t just wake up by chance, I feel like something woke me up. I look around into the dark room. I have a vague recent memory, but I can’t place exactly what it is. I try to remember and it comes to me. Did I just hear glass break and someone scream? Or was I dreaming? I look up and see the light is still on in the window, but just then goes out. Hmmm. Maybe his friend just left. I’m still not sure if I heard something or I dreamed it, but somehow the light going out just as I woke up and looked makes me think I did hear something. Glass breaking, and then a scream. I look back up to the window, but I can’t be sure.

I scratch my head and sigh. It must be around two or three in the morning. Just then, it starts to sprinkle, and then quickly turns into a full rain. I love the sound of rain against the window at night. The sky lights up with a flash of lightening. That’s very rare in San Francisco. And then the boom of thunder. I look back up at the darkened window. I close my eyes and the sound of rain soon lulls me back to sleep.

The Nightmare

I wake up later, but it’s still dark and I very clearly recall the dream I just had. I am dressed in white, on a white silk sheeted bed, watching his window. He has on a black shirt as I can only see the top half of him. He undresses in a hazy, dream-like slow motion. He unbuttons his shirt slowly, one button at a time. His image is blurry in a sexy way almost like the window is steamed from taking a shower. The window then magically elongates so I can see him from head to toe. He pulls off his shorts and is totally naked. He then pulls a clear plastic shower curtain in front of him so now I can just see a blurry image of him except for his feet because the shower curtain doesn’t go all the way down. I can hear the shower and it almost echoes as though it were a much larger area, like a locker room. I then see another pair of feet appear next to him, and the blurred image of someone standing next to him. He grabs the shower curtain and pulls it all the way open so I can see them both. As I look at the other guy it gives me a chill because I suddenly realize the guy is me. It’s bizarre to be seeing myself in a dream, as if I’m watching myself instead of being myself. It’s a very strange feeling. Now I’m being watched and doing the watching at the same time. We start rubbing each other all over. He grabs the back of my head and turns it to the side and starts aggressively kissing my neck. It almost looks like he is going to bite it, like a vampire. He opens his mouth and bares his teeth. Damn I think he is going to bite my neck! Just then, the glass on his bedroom window shatters. Now his window is gone and there is nothing between us. I reach toward it from my bed. It is much closer to me than it would be in reality— I can almost touch it —and I seem to have no window of my own at all, in fact there is no wall on that side of my apartment. There is no wall between us. Oddly, I get the symbolism of that in my dream.

Lightening lights up the dark sky. Thunder booms. I jerk my arm back as shards of glass from the window rain down into the air well and shatter even more when hitting the cement like big balls of hail. The lights flicker in the window man’s place. Thunder booms again. I see our two bodies moving against each other as the light outside and inside flickers at the same time. I see no blood on my neck so I guess he didn’t bite me after all. The window now lights up around the frame and glows a strange bluish light. The shattered pieces of glass now go in reverse, lifting up from the ground and going back up to the window and into place and the window is restored. The glowing blue frame begins to dim and then goes out. The flickering lights inside stop and go out. The lightening stops. It suddenly becomes dark and quiet. I can no longer see anyone in the window.

Out of the dark, a barely visible hand reaches over and pulls down the white shade on his window. I look up into the sky above the window and thick fog covers a full moon. A large black crow flies across the sky and squawks. It flaps its large wings and transforms into a huge black bat just as the full moon reappears from the fog. I look back to the window and a single candle lights up and seems to be floating in the room. Blood begins to drip down from the top of the window shade. More and more blood drips down the shade. I squint at the sight of it, wondering what the hell this is about. The moon disappears behind the fog again. You can see no stars. It is dark.

Suddenly I am in the room itself. I’m in his apartment, I think to myself. How did I get here? Where is he? I hear footsteps walk down the hall away from me. I look in that direction but see no one. The candle has disappeared and no lights are on, but the moonlight now comes through the window so that I can see. I feel wind. The candle lights again in the middle of the room, still floating in the air. The light of the candle blows almost out, as I feel the wind again. I faintly smell burning wood. I hear a sound near the ceiling and look up. A lightbulb turns on and I see a ceiling fan around it, just starting to turn. It gets faster and faster. The candle blows out as the wind from the fan gets stronger. The smell of burnt wood gets stronger. The bulb makes a crackling sound and something drips down from inside of it. It is dark red— it’s blood. The lightbulb fills up with blood and then bursts. The blood drips onto the fan and it rotates and splatters the blood all over me and the rest of the room. With each rotation, more and more blood pours out of the bulb and the fan sprays more and more blood around the room. I can hear it splattering against the walls as the fan whips around and around. Each time it turns, it splatters me with blood too. It splatters across my chest, my face, and the top of my head. I stand there stunned, covered and dripping with blood. The blood has an odd smell, like iodine.

I hear footsteps coming up the hall. I look but there is no one there. The fan goes faster and faster as more and more blood splatters faster and harder. The fan is now whizzing around at warp speed and smoke begins to come out of it. Sparks fly from it and the fan begins to wobble as it spins. Suddenly, it explodes. The fan flies off and slams against the wall and then crashes to the floor. The fan is still spinning but gets slower and slower until it finally stops. Smoke billows from it. The smell of burnt wood is stronger than ever. Blood drips from the top of the ceiling where the fan and bulb were. I start to cough because of the smoke. As I wave my hand at the smoke, the blind pulls itself down and the moonlight disappears. The sky and room are dark. The smell of smoke and burnt wood disappear in an instant. Suddenly I realize I am now lying in my own bed, looking up at the window.

I hear a strange hissing sound coming from his window. As I stare at it wondering what the sound is, the shade suddenly flies up. I almost jump out of my skin. There is someone standing in the window. It’s not a shadow but the dark outline of someone and the sight of this person gives me chills. I can’t see a face but I sense evil. I then see a pair of eyes appear in the dark outline, looking right at me. It sends shivers up and down my spine. I cringe, feeling scared and startled. The head nods to me as he looks me dead in the eye. I have goosebumps up and down my arms. I literally shake in fear at the look coming from those eyes. It is like the devil is looking at me. I smell iodine and burning wood again. I look away from the evil eyes and lightning strikes and thunder booms again. When I look back up at the window, he is gone but there is a puff of gray smoke. It’s then I wake up. I take a deep breath. I can see the moonlight through my blinds. I can see his window through the thin slits. The window is dark. I shake my shoulders back and forth. That dream went from sexy to scary so fast I can hardly remember the sexy start. What the hell is that about? I look back up at the window and wonder. Was it just a nightmare, or is my subconscious trying to tell me something? Or worse yet trying to warn me of something?

The Killer

When I wake up I can’t help thinking about the guy in the window and the dream turned nightmare. What did it mean? I always try to figure out the meanings of my dreams, but sometimes they’re hard to figure. The parts that keep popping into my brain are the fan splattering the blood all over and when he eyeballed me from the window. That look still makes me shiver thinking about it now. I keep telling myself it was just a dream— but the way he looked at me —damn. It gives me the creeps and is hard to shake.

After I get my potatoes cooking for breakfast, I walk into the front room and pull up the blinds on the four front bay windows. It’s pouring rain and the sky is gray today. Yesterday the sun was shining and I was feeling the warmth of spring. The weather sure turned fast. Hmmm, just like that dream last night. It’s one of those days you just want to stay inside. I know I do that a lot, but today I have a good reason. As I finish pulling up the last blind, I see a man walking out of the building with two huge black garbage bags. It seems like a lot of garbage. Is it my window man? He looks like him, but it’s hard to tell from behind, especially since he has a hoody on. It’s a weird time to take out the garbage. Then it hits me, where is he going with it anyway? All our garbage bins are in the back of the building. Any garbage you would just leave back there. It’s also strange that he would do this in the pouring rain since it was sunny yesterday and it’s supposed to clear up later today as well. He has no umbrella since his hands are full; his hoody is up but he’s still getting drenched. What could be so important he has to do that now— and where is he going with them? It’s odd. As he disappears around the corner, it is also obvious by the way he is carrying them that they are really heavy, even for someone as strong as he looks.

A few minutes later, I go into the kitchen and flip my potatoes over and go out into the front room with my coffee. Instead of watching TV like I normally do, I sit in the chair in the far corner that faces the windows. I sit there and sip my coffee and watch the rain. Even though I like warm weather the best, I’ve always loved looking at and listening to the rain. A seagull flies by overhead; they usually aren’t this far inland, but sometimes during storms I’ll see them, maybe because it gets so rough down by the ocean. A woman hurries along the sidewalk with her umbrella mostly over her young son, but he seems to be oblivious to it the way he’s walking all over the place— he seems to be enjoying the rain more than Mom is. Just as they disappear from sight, I see the man I just saw with the garbage bags walking back toward the building without them. It is indeed my window man. It’s still raining hard and he hurriedly makes his way past my front windows and disappears from sight as the entrance to his part of the building is to the right of my windows.

As I bring breakfast into the living room to eat and watch TV, I see my window man again with two more big garbage bags walking away from the building. What the hell is he getting rid of and why is he doing it in the pouring rain? I scratch my forehead as he disappears from sight and sit down to eat my breakfast. That’s so weird with the garbage bags— that’s four now —all in the pouring rain. I wonder what that’s about. Oh well I guess that’s his business but it’s so odd. Why does a man go out in the pouring rain with two huge garbage bags twice when there are plenty of trash cans in the back of the building?

The rest of morning and afternoon are pretty routine, some TV, then I read a little followed by some writing on my PC. After dinner I do a little more writing then fall asleep that night wondering if I will have another dream or nightmare. Instead I wake up the next morning with no memory of a dream. Usually, I look forward to remembering my dreams, but this time I’m relieved I don’t. I guess I still could have had a nightmare, but I don’t remember it if I did. They say you dream every night even if you don’t remember it.

I lose myself in my writing in the afternoon, and before I know it, it is almost time for dinner. Icarus is going to come by and said he’d bring the food. We get together almost every Friday and sometimes during the week as well. But mostly it is just sex. I know he wants us to be boyfriends, but I just don’t see it that way. He’s sexy and fun, but I just don’t want to be attached. Even though he was a little miffed when he left last time, he texted me since and seems to be over it. I knew he would be, he isn’t one to stay mad long. I’m not sure if that’s just his temperament or because he thinks he’ll eventually win me over to his way of thinking— maybe a little bit of both. I like that he doesn’t make a big drama out of nothing. I also thinks he knows any guy looking for a drama-filled soap opera romance with me will be getting the boot as fast as I can kick him out.

A little after seven he arrives with a large pizza box.

“Did you order a pizza?” he asks as I let him in.

I smile and he then says, “Or was it a pizza boy fantasy you ordered?”

I raise my eyebrows and smile. “Actually, both sound pretty good,” I tell him.

He puts the pizza down on the coffee table and asks, “So which do you want first?”

“Hmmm,” I say, rubbing my chin. “That’s a tough one, but I think we should eat the pizza while it’s hot. Of course, the pizza boy fantasy is pretty hot too— but that will still be hot later.”

“Yes it will,” he says, “I’ll make sure of that.” He smirks and opens the lid of the pizza box.

“I got all the things you like: broccoli, jalapeños, onions, and garlic with extra sauce and a thin crust.”

He flashes me a big smile, knowing he got everything right.

“Fabu!” I exclaim. This is one time I’m not minding his perfection and he knows it. “It looks and smells delicious!”

“Yeah it does, doesn’t it?” he agrees.

“I’m going to get some Sprite, I’m guessing red wine for you?”

“You guessed right,” he says. It’s kind of ironic that my drink of choice is more like a college or high school kid and his is more like someone my age or older. He definitely has an old soul. And I guess I am a bit of a Peter Pan. Or is it a Peter Pan complex?

After we both wolf down two pieces of pizza each in about ten minutes, we finally come up for air.

“This is fabulous,” I tell him. “It definitely hit the spot. I was starved.”

“I can tell,” he says.

“Hey, I notice you’re keeping up with me pretty well.”

He smiles.

“Yeah, I was hungry too and it is really good. What can I say? I deliver!”

I laugh. “Yeah, you do.”

“So can you believe it about the gay killer?”

“Gay killer? What are you talking about?”

“Oh my God, you haven’t heard? Are you living under a rock? You really need to come out of that writing cave once in a while. Everyone’s talking about it. There is some kind of gay serial killer in the city. Three gay guys were killed in two days! One was killed Sunday and then two more the next day.”

“Oh my God, are you serious? I didn’t even hear about it.”

“Yeah, and one of them lived pretty near here, the other two both lived in the Castro. They found all three dead bodies the same way: in a garbage can. Pretty gruesome, huh?”

“A garbage can? How does a body even fit?” I ask, crinkling my nose.

“He cuts them up,” he tells me. “He kills them and then chops up all their body parts, arms, legs, head…”

My mouth drops open. “Oh my God. That’s insane. Wow, I can’t believe I didn’t hear about it.”

“Like I said, you need to come out of that writing cave you’re always saying you’re in. There’s a whole world going on out here.”

“Yeah and it sounds pretty terrifying. I’d say I’m much better off in my writing cave.”

“Anyway, everyone is freaking out and looking twice now when someone hits on them at the bar. It’s pretty spooky knowing there’s someone out there like that.”

“See, maybe I’m not so bad off just staying inside with my TV and computer.”

“And your man in the window,” he says, raising his brows.

“Oh, I saw him again later that night with another guy.”

“Another guy already? Did he put on another show?”

“Actually, he did.”

“And?”

“Same thing, he pulled down the shade right after they started going at it. It was just a little teaser, like the last time. I think he gets off on knowing someone could see him at the beginning—it’s like a little show he’s putting on for whoever might be looking. But I had a weird dream about him later. A nightmare, really. It started out sexy, but then turned really scary— terrifying actually. The lights all started flickering, there was lightning and thunder, and then there was blood splattering everywhere and dripping down his blinds. Then at the end he looked down at me, and the way he looked at me was so chilling— a look of pure evil.”

“Creepy, like the books you write,” he says.

“Yeah, but in my books, you can usually kind of see it coming. This was so out of the blue, it just went from sexy to scary so fast, like someone flipped a switch. I always wonder about dreams like that. I wonder if they mean anything.”

“It means that’s how you think; that’s the kind of stuff you write about it, it doesn’t mean anything.”

“How’d you get so smart?” I ask him with a smile.

“I was born that way, baby!”

I laugh and walk over to the window and pull up the shade. I look up at the window. The shades are both down.

“Sunday, the day you said the first guy was killed, I still had my shades down. You said two more were killed the next day, that’s the same day I saw him with two different guys.”

“So you think he’s the killer because he fooled around with two guys that day? Wow, talk about jumping to conclusions.”

Icarus walks over to the window and looks up too.

“Lots of guys in the city have sex with more than one guy in a day, it doesn’t make them a murderer. Do you really think the guy living right there just killed three guys and then chopped them up? And do you think if he did he’d be parading them in front of an open window before he did?”

I turn away from the window and toward Icarus.

“You never know, someone did,” I say. “I guess it’s because of the bloody dream. And that was before you even told me about the murders. It just seems weird.”

“Yeah something’s weird alright,” he says, giving me a look.

“That dream just went from hot to dark so fast, and now you tell me about the ‘gay killer’. It just seems like too much of a coincidence.”

“Key word: coincidence. He’s just a hot neighbor you wouldn’t even know existed if you hadn’t pulled up your blind that day.”

“Yeah, I know you’re probably right. Oh wait I just thought of something. You said they found them in garbage cans. Oh my God! I forgot to tell you the garbage thing— I saw him carrying two big bags of garbage out of the building in the rain the next morning. Or at least it looked like garbage— he had two big garbage bags filled with something. Then two more a few minutes later— again in the pouring rain. All our garbage bins are in the back. Why wouldn’t he have left them there?”

“Who knows? Maybe it was laundry or something.”

“No, it was something really heavy, you could tell by the way he was carrying them. Besides, we have washing machines and dryers in the building. And when he came back he didn’t have them. It just seems like an odd thing for him to be doing in the pouring rain no matter what it was. It’s something you wouldn’t do then unless you had to get rid of it right away.”

“You really think he’d be carrying their dead bodies chopped up in garbage bags in broad daylight?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty hard not to think that’s what might have been in them isn’t it? I didn’t even have to say that’s what I thought it might be and you thought the same thing. No one seeing him knows what’s in the garbage bags— and they don’t know we have garbage bins in the back like I do. No one would think anything of it. So, yeah he actually could have been carrying dead bodies in those bags in broad daylight.”

“Well, speak of the devil,” Icarus says.

I turn and see the blind is now up and he is partially visible in the window, you can just see part of his back, head and shoulder. I turn back toward Icarus.

“Yeah, I guess it is pretty unlikely he is actually the killer,” I admit. “Seeing him now makes me realize the only scary thing that happened was in my nightmare— it was just a dream, probably nothing more. And you’re right— that is just the way I think and the type of things I write about. I’ve always had a pretty vivid imagination. His garbage bags could have been full of things he was donating to charity for all I know.”

“Definitely, that’s what happens when you spend so much time alone and then staring out the window like that. You start to imagine things. I keep telling you to get out more, then maybe your imagination wouldn’t have so much time to run wild like that.”

“Well, I do need my imagination for my writing,” I tell him.

“I know, but if he were a killer would he let you see him in the window with the people he killed? And wouldn’t he take those garbage bags out at night if they were filled with bloody body parts? I don’t think a murderer is going to be parading things like that around for everyone to see, it just doesn’t make sense.”

“Yeah, I know you’re probably right,” I agree.

“Of course I’m right. There is a gay killer out there somewhere, but it being him is a million to one shot. There’s just no way…”

Just then, Icarus’s eyes widen. The expression on his face changes. He looks like he’s seen a ghost.

“Oh my God,” he says. “Heston, look!”

I turn and see what he is seeing: the window man is cleaning something with a rag. And that something is a saw. I get an instant chill and look at Icarus and can see he is feeling the same way. We stand frozen watching him. And when he finishes he then starts cleaning an axe! More chills go down my spine. Goosebumps go up and down my arms. I look over at Icarus and he stares back at me.

We both start backing away from the window at the same time.

“Ok, go back and start at the beginning again and tell me everything about that nightmare you had,” Icarus says. “And what you think it means.”

Thargold

After going over my dream turned nightmare in detail, Icarus now believes like I do that it did mean something. Maybe it isn’t just a coincidence, maybe it is some kind of foreboding warning.

“It’s creepy to think a killer could be living that close to you,” Icarus says, looking up at the window.

“I know, it makes you think. He is out there in the city somewhere, and people here tend not to know their neighbors at all. There are all these people living around me, and I have no idea who they are or what they do.”

His eyes dart around in all directions and then back to the window.

“Yeah, it’s kind of strange that it’s the norm here in the big city. This guy lives in your building, but you don’t even know his name or anything about him. Have you ever seen him coming in or out before? Ever walked by him and said hello?”

“No, I never saw him until just the other day. A woman lived there before. A lot of people move in and out of this building; it seems like quite a few people move after a year or even six months.”

I can see Icarus thinking.

“Isn’t your last name and first initial on your mailbox?”

“Yeah.”

“And doesn’t the same key unlock all of the outside front door gates?”

“Yes.”

“Well, give me your keys and I’ll find out his name in two minutes.”

“Oh yeah, you’re right. I didn’t even think of that.”

“Well I’m here and I’m thinking. I’m not just a dumb blond, Heston. Do I have to keep telling you that? Now give me your keys,” he says, putting his hand out.

“You’re so bossy. I love it,” I say with a laugh, and toss him my keys. “Be careful, Agent 99, just in case.”

“Agent 99?”

“I forget how young you are. Just be careful, ok?”

“I will be,” he says, then dashes out the door.

I smile to myself thinking about him playing detective. He really is adorable. But should he be snooping around someone’s place— even if it is just his mailbox —who we think might be a killer? I walk over to the front windows and look out the one on the far right, toward the direction Icarus would go to get to the mailboxes. I stare for a few moments then pull myself away from it and just sit down on the sofa. I’m anxious to hear what Icarus finds out. He is back, as promised, in about two minutes.

He swings the door open and runs in.

“L. Thargold. L. Thargold is his name!”

I smile at him, he’s so excited. I love his enthusiasm, and the fact that he so quickly figured this out. He really isn’t just a dumb blond. It’s not that I thought he was, but I may have sold him short, just a little bit.

“So what’s my next assignment, Maxwell Smart?” he asks with a knowing smirk.

I squint at him, wondering how he now knows that. He smirks even more seeing the surprised look on my face.

“The internet is a wonderful thing. I looked up Agent 99 on my way back. It’s called multitasking. You should try it sometime, like being a writer and having a boyfriend at the same time. It’s not so hard. So what’s my next assignment, boss?”

I have to laugh at the way he slipped that boyfriend part in there. He truly is no dummy.

“I think that’s it for now. Good job.”

He seems pretty proud of himself and I can tell by the look on his face he loves the way I’m looking at him right now. He knows he’s impressed me.

“Thargold, huh? That’s a weird name. It sounds made up,” I tell him.

“Oh my God, that’s what you said when you first met me. I’ll never forget it,” he says, and then imitates me.

“Icarus, that’s an unusual name— and then you looked me up and down —it sounds made up.”

I laugh.

“No one ever said anything like that to me before,” he says. “It’s the kind of thing someone might say behind my back, but you were saying it to my face. I didn’t know what to think.”

“I remember the look on your face; I know what you thought,” I say, smiling.

“You’re right, I thought you were a bitch!”

I laugh again.

“But then you did that— you laughed,” he says. “And I thought, ok, that was pretty funny. But what a thing to say to someone you just met.”

“Well, it’s what I thought,” I say. “Or at least, what came to mind. But I also thought you were hot as hell.”

He smiles.

“Yeah, I thought the same thing.”

“Oh, I know you think you’re hot as hell too,” I say, laughing again.

“You know what I meant,” he says, playfully smacking my shoulder.

“Yeah, and I also know you,” I tell him.

He laughs and so do I, and then we start wrestling on the sofa. I get on top of him and look down at him.

“You’re so damn cute,” I say, smiling.

“I feel the same way.” He laughs. “Oh wait, didn’t we just cover that?”

I squeeze his face and then plant a big kiss on him. He cups his hand behind my neck and kisses me deeper. He moans. I smile. He’s so sexy. And he really is pretty witty and clever, especially for his age. When I first met him I thought he was just a pretty boy who liked labels and fashion. He seemed like a hot as hell guy that would be a very fun fling. But the more I get to know him, the more I like him. It might not be love, but it’s something.

An Unexpected Twist

I wake up to a kiss on my cheek the next morning. Icarus spent the night, which is pretty rare for me. Usually after sex I show them the door; it’s nothing personal, I just want to be by myself. I also prefer sleeping by myself, I’ve never been one to want someone next to me while I sleep.

“Your usual for breakfast?” he asks.

“Sure, thanks.”

I smile and reach over and mess up his hair.

“Hey, I had it looking just right!” he exclaims.

“I know,” I tell him with a smirk, “and now it looks even better. You might even say perfect—at least in my eyes.”

He wasn’t happy about me messing up his hair, but that last line gets him and he giggles.

“Funny,” he deadpans, walking back into the kitchen as he fixes his hair.

He has gotten into the habit of making me breakfast when he spends the night. I’m one of those people who has the same thing for breakfast almost every day, so he knew what I wanted before even asking. Knowing him, he probably already had it started and was just waiting for me to wake up. After we finish our eggs, potatoes and toast, I finish my juice and talk turns to the man in the window. That leads to action as I pull up the shade and look up at his windows. Both the shades are down.

“I wonder what he’s doing,” Icarus says.

I crack a small smile because before he was saying I was looking because I had nothing better to do and needed to get out more, and now he is all interested himself. (Never mind that he probably did have a point about why I started looking!)

“Who knows? I mean, we’re probably being ridiculous thinking what we’re thinking,” I say. “You may have been right that it’s just the kind of thing I write about so that’s why I think this way. The odds of the murderer living right up there seem pretty improbable. Do we really think this guy is the killer?”

“I didn’t until I saw the axe and saw,” he says. “I mean, who has a saw and an axe here in the city?”

“A lot of people do, just maybe not our friends.” I laugh. “Well, maybe my friend Gladys.”

Icarus laughs, but it’s true. My lesbian friend ‘G’, as I sometimes call her, is probably the most likely friend of mine to own a saw or an axe.

“And she’s not a killer,” I tell him.

“That you know of,” he kids. “How many times have you peered in her window?”

“That’s true, I guess you never know.”

Icarus goes into the kitchen and brings back an espresso. His comment makes me think. I wonder what people would think of me if they peeked in my window and saw my every move? We all do some things in private that we would never do in public. Wouldn’t we all appear to be a little strange if people saw all our little eccentricities?

“Three teaspoons of sugar, right, Sir?” he says with a knowing smirk.

I take a sip.

“Perfect, as usual,” I say. “You’re making yourself hard to live without.”

“That’s the idea,” he says. “Let’s face it, things are a little better when I’m around. Why fight it?”

I smile and then give him a smirk.

“Yeah you’ve turned yourself into a real Girl Friday haven’t you?”

“I guess so,” he says proudly.

Although I suspect he might also be too young to know that expression, I’m completely sure if he doesn’t he’ll be googling it shortly.

“Isn’t she the one a guy can’t live without? The one who saves him and gets him out of trouble. The one who’s always there by his side?”

“That’s the one,” I say. “But he never ends up marrying her or even being her actual boyfriend, does he? Strange isn’t it?”

“Queer,” he says, turning away from me and looking toward the window.

“I’m just messing with you,” I tell him. “I appreciate the espresso. It’s sweet of you.”

He turns back toward me and smiles with that twinkle in his eye that tells me he’s crazy about me. Even though I’m not looking for a boyfriend, it is nice to be wanted so much.

I notice his eyes drifting away from me and looking toward the window. His eyes widen in surprise.

“Well, the plots thickens,” he says.

I look back toward the window and there he is, putting on a little show for us again, but not the one we might have expected. This time, his partner is a leading lady. He’s kissing a woman.

“Oh my,” I say. “The plot sure does thicken. I didn’t see that coming.”

“And you call yourself a writer,” he says playfully.

He unbuttons her red blouse and slips it off. He cups the front of her black bra as he kisses her neck.

His shirt is already off and the muscles in his biceps bulge as he rubs her breasts through the bra. He begins to gyrate against her with his groin and she throws her head back in exhilaration.

“Don’t you think it’s odd he’s always doing this right in front of the window?” Icarus asks.

“I did at first, but now I think it’s obvious he does it on purpose— he gets off on the possibility that someone might be looking. It turns him on.”

“Yeah, I think you’re right. But now that we see him with a girl, does this mean he’s not the gay killer after all?” Icarus asks.

“I guess he’s not,” I say, scratching my eyebrow. “I mean, he sure isn’t looking like the gay killer now. I guess it was our imagination after all. But I have to say, he still puts on a pretty good show.”

“You’re right about that,” he agrees. “He is really hot. Oh, and it looks like he has a cat.”

I look back up and there is a small black cat perched on the window sill outside his window.

“Oh that’s the neighbor’s cat,” I tell him. “It’s from the family down there,” I say pointing to the apartment below. “It belongs to the little girl that lives there. It’s named Midnight, I think it’s a male. She’s always letting him out and he climbs all around the windows and down into the air well. He comes over to my window sometimes too. He’s friendly, or nosy, I’m not sure which. He gets up and peers in my window and meows. If I don’t go over to him, he scratches on the screen. One time he even got up on it and the screen popped out back toward him and scared the hell out of him— he took off running. But usually he just peers in and meows.”

“Aww, that’s so cute,” Icarus says. “I love that cats are so curious and they don’t care if you know it; it’s so cute that he comes to your window and peers in at you like that. What a little cutie.”

“Yeah he is, but I don’t think our window man feels the same way,” I say, pointing toward the window.

He is shooing the cat away, and Midnight jumps down to the ledge below where the family that owns him lives.

He then pulls the shade down.

“That nosy cat! I guess the show is over for today,” Icarus says. “Just as well, I’m not really into a live show of straight sex— although he is hot as hell. I can’t believe he’s with a girl now. You’ve now seen him with two guys and a woman in less than a week. That guy sure gets around.”

“Yeah, he does,” I agree. “I’m surprised he’s bisexual, but I guess we shouldn’t be. I mean, we don’t really know anything about him.”

“We know he has a lot of sex with quite a variety of people,” Icarus says.

“Yeah, that’s true. But we just saw a little glimpse into his life and made all these assumptions about him. Now we know at least one of them isn’t true. Hell, five minutes ago we thought he might be the gay killer.”

“That’s true.”

“Yeah I guess it was all in our imaginations after all,” I say with noticeable disappointment in my voice.

“If people were watching us right now I wonder what they’d think of the way we’re acting. We have to be two of the most ghoulish people around,” he says.

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“We’re acting disappointed because we found out that someone isn’t a killer. That’s pretty messed up.”

I laugh. “I guess it is, but I’m expected to think this way— I write this kind of stuff, what’s your excuse?”

“I guess you’re rubbing off on me,” he says, raising his eyebrows.

“Oh so it’s all my fault?” I ask with a smile.

“Of course!”

Later on, we head out to catch a movie and get a bite to eat. The sun goes down on our way back and the fog starts to roll in. It gets darker much faster when that happens. We stop and get burritos at a place just two blocks from where I live. After we finish and walk down the sidewalk, the fog just keeps rolling in.

“Wow, the fog is really thick, I’ve never seen it like this— at least in this part of town,” Icarus says.

“I know, up in Twin Peaks it gets like this, but I’ve never seen it like this in all the years I’ve lived here. This is bizarre. You can hardly see— it’s kind of spooky.”

“It is,” Icarus says. “Let’s get back to your place.”

We pick up the pace, but not too much because we really can’t see more than a few feet in front of us, and the fog just keeps getting thicker. As we reach my cross street, you can only see the car lights from the cars on the street. We carefully cross the street and reach my block. I’ve never seen fog like this, there is definitely something spooky about it. You can hear people on the sidewalk but you can’t really see them.

Even though we no longer think our neighbor is the killer, we still feel a bit uneasy walking down the foggy sidewalk up to my building. He may not be the killer, but someone is, and he’s out there, somewhere. I look both ways through the thick fog, and grab Icarus’s hand as we turn toward our building.

“The fog is so thick you can hardly see anything,” Icarus says. “This is creepy.”

We are literally lost in the fog, but I have a good sense of direction and we are almost at the front gate of my apartment building. It’s quiet and with the fog making it impossible to see, the sense of sound seems heightened as I am very aware of the sound of our feet walking toward the gate. Then suddenly I hear a shuffle from someone very near us. I look around, but can see nothing but fog. I know we are only a matter of feet from my front gate. I squeeze Icarus’s hand tight and quickly try to get to it.

“I’d be careful if I was you,” a strange high pitched voice says from somewhere in the fog. The voice is bone-chillingly terrifying. It sounds like a man imitating a woman’s voice in a sing-song creepy kind of way.

Icarus squeezes my hand tight and we dart to my front gate and I quickly get the right key to unlock the gate, but my hand is shaking and it isn’t easy to see. As I fumble to get the key in, I again hear the shuffle of someone’s feet near us. Very near us. Icarus squeezes my hand even tighter. I can still hear that eerie voice in my head as I try to get the key in. Why isn’t it going in? I know I have the right key. I realize it must be upside down and turn it around.

“Hurry, Heston,” Icarus urges me, gripping my hand for all it’s worth.

I cringe and brace myself for hearing that eerie voice again. Icarus squeezes tighter yet as I swing open the gate. My heart is beating fast. We run up the stairs to my front door. I listen for the sound of the gate closing behind us and take a deep breath when I don’t hear it. My heart beats even faster. Is whoever was following us now inside the gate too? Is that why I haven’t heard it shut? Just then, I hear it slam shut. I sigh with relief, but not total relief as I realize it might just be the gate shutting behind someone else. I quickly get to my front door and make sure I have the key turned the right way this time. My hand is shaking, but the key slips in and I unlock my door and we hurry in. Icarus quickly shuts the door behind us and I lock and then chain lock the door. I finally exhale and sigh with relief.

“Oh shit that scared the hell out of me! Who was that?” Icarus asks. “That voice was so creepy!”

“I know, I don’t know who the hell that was. I was scared too that’s why I ran and got us in here so fast. Was it a woman or a man?”

We are both out of breath.

“I think it was a man with a high voice, but it had a weird tone to it, some kind of accent— it was like high pitched broken English. Strange.”

“It was but maybe we are just spooking ourselves because of everything that’s been happening and all the fog tonight made the city look so dark and eerie. Now that you say broken English and I think about it, it might have been my neighbor. I don’t know her name, but we’ve seen each other through the years and say hello. She’s an old Chinese woman and doesn’t speak English that well. I’m thinking maybe it was her.”

“Oh, maybe you’re right we just scared ourselves,” Icarus agrees. “But it was a strange sounding voice, it almost sounded like a man pretending to be a woman.”

“Oh my god I was thinking the same thing! You know who it sounded like? Norman Bates in Psycho when he’s pretending to be his mother, it had that same weird high pitched creepy quality to it. It did scare me I can’t lie. But maybe we just heard it that way because of everything that’s happened. It was probably that lady— she lives in the house right next to this building, and she was probably just telling us to be careful because of the fog.”

“I don’t know, the way that voice said, ‘I’d be careful if I was you,’ it sounded more like a threat than someone looking out for us. It sounded creepy as hell to me.”

“Yeah, it did but at least we’re inside now,” I tell him. “I really think we just spooked ourselves. If it was that neighbor she probably wonders what the hell is wrong with us running up the stairs like that. Oh well. Let’s just relax. We know the guy living up in the window isn’t the gay killer and I’m sure whoever it is doesn’t live anywhere near here.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Icarus says. “I think it was all that fog and it being so dark out and then that voice— it was right out of a horror movie.”

“It was. Let’s just chill out and watch a movie or something— let’s stay away from horror —maybe a comedy.”

Icarus laughs and we plop down on the sofa. After a few minutes Icarus gets up and I hear him microwaving something in the kitchen. He comes back a few minutes later with a big bowl of popcorn. We munch some down and watch a little TV and just when we start to relax, we suddenly hear a loud, high-pitched scream, then another one. It sounds like a girl screaming.

We jump up and look out the bedroom window where it’s coming from and can see by the moonlight it’s the little girl across from me at her window. I can now see stars in the sky; it looks like most of the fog has cleared. That surprises me because usually it stays around for a while, especially when it is that thick. This weather is very strange.

“It’s Midnight! Mommy! Daddy! He’s dead!”

The father appears at the window and reaches out to retrieve the dead cat’s limp body. It has a rope around its neck.

“Oh my God!” Icarus exclaims at the sight of it.

“Someone killed it, he’s been strangled!” the father shouts. “What kind of person would kill a cat like this? God damn sicko! Whoever did this, you’re a god damn sicko!”

Then the mother sticks her head out, obviously distraught.

“Who would kill a harmless little cat? He was the only one in the whole building that was friendly. He liked everyone. Is that why you killed him, because he was friendly and liked you? Did you kill him just because you could?”

What kind of twisted mind would kill a cat— or anyone —because they liked them I wonder to myself?

The little girl continues to scream and cry as the woman pulls her head back in and the man slams the window shut. I can hear people’s voices from other windows. I can’t see them but can hear them— all the people in the building are buzzing about it. I’m sure everyone in the whole building is looking out their window right now. That little girl’s scream was one high pitched piercing shriek. It would have woken up the dead. The poor thing. It’s one thing to have your cat die, but to find it like that is beyond terrible.

“How demented,” Icarus says. “That’s so twisted. Who the hell would kill a cat? And why?”

“And to do it like that,” I say, shaking my head. “That poor little girl.”

“Why would someone want to kill a cat?” Icarus wonders. “And to make a noose like that and strangle it— what kind of mind even thinks of that? That’s not just nuts, that’s scary crazy.”

I look around at the windows and then look back to Icarus.

“Maybe we should ask who would want to kill that particular cat,” I say.

“What do you mean, Heston?”

“You know, when I saw the window man with that woman it almost convinced me he wasn’t the killer,” I tell Icarus. “Now I’m not so sure.”

“Why?” he asks.

“Just because he was with a woman doesn’t mean he’s not the gay killer. Maybe he’s straight, but just kills the gay guys he picks up. We don’t know anything about him or how his mind works; I was thinking about that earlier. But now I have an even bigger reason for thinking he still might be the killer.”

“What? What?” Icarus yells impatiently.

“Look,” I say, pointing to his window. “You can see him just sitting in his chair, from the light flickering he must be watching TV, smoking a cigarette.”

“So?”

“He’s the only person in the whole building who didn’t react to the screaming. Any normal person would have come to the window when they heard that girl scream to see what was going on, but he didn’t. Why? There’s only one reason not to— because he already knew what she was screaming about. On top of that, he knew he did it and didn’t want to be seen at his window.”

“Oh my God, you’re right. But why would he kill a cat?” Icarus asks, looking at me curiously but then seeming to figure it out. “Because he was the cat who knew too much?”

A Dark Night

Icarus leaves later that night, but I almost wish he had spent the night again, because honestly I am a little scared being alone. What if this guy really is the killer? Every time I walk by the window I’m reminded what might be just across the air well and up one floor. It’s way too close for comfort. I try to tell myself not to, but I can’t help but look up at his window. I’ve become addicted to watching his window. The shades are drawn. I look back several times that night, but his shades are still down and it’s dark inside. Either he’s not home or he went to bed already. I know my window watching is obsessive now, but it’s hard not to be when I think he might be the killer. Icarus and I talked about calling the police, but what reason did we really have especially now that we see he is bi? It doesn’t exactly fit the profile of the ‘gay killer’. And after we talked about it, we can’t be sure he didn’t go to the window when the little girl screamed. He might have when it first happened and then sat back down by the time we looked. I glance up at his window again and notice the fog is now obscuring the moon completely again, it’s a very dark night. It’s been so odd with the fog tonight going back and forth; that isn’t normal. You can see no stars or anything, it’s a black sky shrouded in fog. Looking at the fog reminds me of that creepy voice telling us, “I’d be careful if I were you.” It still sends a shiver down my spine when I think of it. I try to wipe it from my mind, but I fall asleep feeling uneasy and unsafe.

I wake up later and have a strange hazy memory of a dream about being in my grandmother’s basement. Someone or something is after me and I run back past the furnace and little makeshift stall bathroom into my grandfather’s little work room at the very back. I grab the stool from his desk and stand up on it and open a small cabinet on the top of the wood paneling on the wall. It is dark inside and appears to have no back to it. I crawl up into it and it’s a small dark tunnel. I crawl on my hands and knees trying to find my way to safety. I’m not sure whom I’m running from, but I feel panic that this is my only way out and it is so small I am afraid I’m going to get stuck in it. Fear hits me that if I do get stuck, no one will know and I will die here. I don’t where the tunnel is going, but I feel the anxiety of trying to get away from something. Whatever is after me I know this tiny tunnel is my only way out. I can picture darkness and flashlights looking for me. I feel a sense of dread and urgency. Whoever or whatever is after me has a dark, ominous presence almost like the feeling of a hostile military takeover, but it feels even bigger and scarier than that, almost as if the earth is being invaded and taken over from another planet. I go a long way but as I do it gets smaller and smaller. Panic sets in that I cannot turn around. If it keeps getting smaller what will I do? Just then I actually do feel stuck it is so small. I try to move my arms but can’t, there’s no room. My heart pounds and I feel the fear of being trapped there. I let my body go limp and try to relax, telling myself not to panic. I stay still for a few minutes and just breathe. That’s the last thing I remember. I can’t remember how the dream ends. Do I make it to the end of the tunnel? And what is there when I get there? Even though I’m awake now I still feel a sense of anxiety over it. I tell myself to calm down that it was just a dream— but it felt so real. I take a deep breath and try to fall back to sleep, but it isn’t easy because I sure as hell don’t want to dream that again. Eventually, I do nod off.

Time passes, but I have no idea how long before I get up to go the bathroom. After I’m done going I stand there for just a minute. I feel fuzzy headed and half asleep, almost like I am sleep walking. Am I awake or still dreaming? My thoughts feel so cloudy. I can feel the night breeze coming through the small bathroom window that is cracked open. The air suddenly feels very cold and I reach to push the window down. But as I do a hand suddenly reaches through window from the outside. Holy hell! It startles the crap out of me— I jump at the sight of it. Before I know it, it grabs me by the throat.

I try to scream but am gagged. The grip is strong and is choking me. Holy shit, I think to myself, it’s him. He somehow knows we were watching him. He knows that we know. I shudder in fear. An image of me being cut up into bloody pieces and stuffed into a garbage can flashes through my mind. The grip tightens around my throat. I’m sure it’s him outside the window grabbing me, but then I see the arm isn’t attached to anyone— it’s a severed arm! It’s bloody at the shoulder where it has been sawed off. Jagged pieces of bloody flesh hang off the end of it along with bloodied bones exposed at the end. I squirm in disbelief and scream. The dismembered arm and hand squeezes tighter around my neck.

The arm contorts back and forth like a thick snake and the hand is like its mouth grabbing me at the neck. It doesn’t just seem to be an arm, it is a creature in itself that looks like an arm. It’s a creepy feeling looking at it writhe back and forth as the hand clenches my throat like an animal attacking its prey. I grab at the arm to pull it off and the hand turns just like the head of a snake and grabs my arm. The arm creature makes some strange hissing sound like no other animal I’ve ever heard before. It’s much deeper and more gravely than a snake, it sounds demonic. There is a strange strong smell coming from it, but it is not the smell of a creature, it’s more like burning metal. The hand-head continues to hiss and then it starts to shriek and screech as the skin starts peeling off it like a snake shedding its skin. It continues a high-pitched cry as the outer skins peels off, revealing a slimy red color underneath, like an arm would look if you ripped off the skin. Then the neck narrows and twists until the hand-head snaps off and falls to the floor with a splat. That doesn’t kill it as it wriggles and squirms on the floor. The hand opens and lets out a shriek. Then the head-hand darts up the side of the wall and slithers out the window. It leaves a trail of blood behind it like the slime of a snail. The rest of the arm creature now splats onto the floor as well. It’s bloody at both ends but just looks like a skinless arm now, with no hand. I stare at it and wonder if it was just an arm all along and I just hallucinated the rest. Then I realize how crazy that sounds. I feel the wind come through the window and I see the bloody hand reach in and push the window shut from the outside.

I see the handless/headless arm creature start to writhe back and forth again and it begins to creep up the side of the toilet like a giant slug. It slithers into the toilet and then squeezes itself down the drain and disappears. It makes a suction-like sound as it goes down the pipe. The toilet flushes but the water is streaked with dark red blood. More and more blood swirls into the water until it is all blood. I watch the blood swirl down the toilet. When it is finally finished flushing it makes a loud sound, but not like a toilet usually does. The sound is animalistic, like the belch or loud gulping of a creature. The toilet itself then begins to spin, and then the whole bathroom.

I jerk awake in my bed. I take a deep breath. Of course that couldn’t be real, it was just a dream. Another nightmare, and so bizarre. There is a reason I’m having these dark dreams. They are telling me something. I realize Icarus and I can’t just stand by and do nothing. We know too much. We have to do something, but what?

Window Watching

It’s a strange feeling to think a neighbor that close to you might be a murderer. I can’t pass by my window without taking a glance up at his. Often I get a cold chill with the thought of him being the killer. If that were true, then I saw these murders in the very beginning stages, just before he killed them. The reality of that possibility creeps me out. He knew what he was planning. It wasn’t modesty that made him pull down the shade once things started to heat up, it was what was going to happen next. It wasn’t going to be pretty and he didn’t want anyone to see it. But I certainly have imagined it, right down to the detail of him hacking and sawing off body parts so he could fit them into trash bags and then cans. There would be so much blood. I try not to think about it, but it’s impossible. I feel more and more obsessed with watching his window. But I also feel like I have good reason to. Icarus feels to same way and is on his way over.

I gaze up at the window, but the shade has been pulled down all day. There’s been nothing happening, but I still can’t help looking every chance I get, just in case there is something to see. I get an anxious feeling each and every time I glance up at it, anticipating what I might see next. I see flashes of images of an axe and blood, then a saw and more blood, and piles of bloody body parts. I see bloody legs and arms, a ripped open torso with bloody veins dangling and a bloody head all piled into a trash can. My stomach is in knots. Could I see the beginning stages of his next murder? If that happens, what do I do? As much as I think these things, I still can’t help doubting everything since seeing him with a woman. Even though we thought of a possible reason around it, we can’t deny it sure doesn’t seem to fit the mold of the ‘gay killer’. That part of it is gnawing at me, telling me that maybe I am just imagining all of this.

Icarus comes through my front door like a whirlwind; I can see the excitement in his eyes and demeanor.

“Oh my God, did you hear? Did you hear? Can you believe it?”

“What? Hear what? What are you talking about?”

“Oh my God! I can’t believe you didn’t hear. Have you been locked up in that writing cave again? The gay killer is bi! He killed a woman! And we saw him with a woman! It’s him! It’s him, Heston, he is the killer!”

The info is coming so fast I’m a little dumbfounded.

“Don’t you ever watch the news?” he asks.

“I didn’t last night or this morning.”

“A woman was killed, chopped up and found in a garbage can so they are pretty sure it’s the same killer. Now they’re calling him the Bisexual Butcher. And the guy in the window— Thargold —was with a woman! It can’t be a coincidence. What we thought disqualified him from being the killer now points to him even more. He really is the killer!”

He’s so excited he is practically yelling. I realize I have the screen in the window; the neighbors— and one in particular —might hear him.

I look up at the window and the shade is down, but I suddenly realize he’s there. I can barely see him, but it looks like he’s standing right next to the window, almost totally out of sight like he doesn’t want to be seen.

I reach over and put my hand over Icarus’s mouth and whisper to him as I nod toward the window, “Keep your voice down, he might hear you. I think he might have already. It looks like he’s lurking at the window, look you can just barely see him on the right.”

I pull him further back from the window.

“Where? I don’t see him,” Icarus whispers.

“Look at the crack between the curtain and the window, you can just barely see there is someone standing there. He might have heard you, and he might have seen us. Look at the way he’s standing there, that’s not the look of an ordinary man just standing beside a window looking out. That’s the look of a man who is afraid somebody might be watching him— and doesn’t want to be seen.”

You can see a sliver of his shadow on the right side of the window between the curtain and the shade, and a slight indentation of the curtain where his hand is just ever so slightly pulling it back. He is so still his dark shadow reminds me of a big black crouching panther, frozen and hidden from the view of its prey, just waiting for its time to pounce— and kill. I shiver at the sight of him.

“It’s creepy,” Icarus says in a whisper, gazing up at him. “You’re right— just look at the way he’s standing there, hiding himself from view. It’s like you said, that is someone who doesn’t want to be seen. That’s just not normal. That’s a man who has something to hide.”

We tip toe slowly out of the bedroom and into the living room, far out of view of the window and further out of earshot.

“Do you think he heard me? Do you think he saw us?”

“I don’t know, but the way he was lurking there just off to the side of the window makes me think maybe he did. He also might have just heard something and wasn’t quite sure exactly what was said so he was skulking there hoping to hear more.”

“Heston, this suddenly doesn’t seem so fun anymore. It was exciting at first, like solving a mystery or something. But now it’s starting to scare me. It almost seemed like a game at first, but now it’s getting too real. If he heard me or saw us, we might be next.”

“I know, and he knows exactly where I live,” I say. “At least you don’t live here. I don’t know how I can sleep at night now. I feel like we should be doing something, but I’m not sure what. Thinking someone is a killer that is that close— it’s chilling.”

“And it’s not just him being a killer, but the way he does it— chopping people up like that. It’s really twisted. This is very different than someone just getting mad, pulling out a gun and shooting someone. He plans this out and kills them all the same way. People like that scare me because you know you can’t reason with them— they’re insane.”

“I know, that’s why the thought of falling asleep here by myself is starting to freak me out.”

“You can’t, not now. Not alone. You can sleep at my place, it’s tiny, but better than sleeping in fear. Maybe we should call the police.”

“I was thinking that too, but we don’t really have any solid evidence. It’s not like we’ve actually seen him kill anyone,” I tell him. “All we really know is that he’s been with two guys and a woman in the last few days and he owns a saw and an axe. And I saw him taking out some trash bags. That’s all we’ve really seen.”

“That’s true, but there must be something we can do. There must be some way for us to get some evidence. Didn’t you say you think he works the late afternoon shift during the week?”

“Yeah, I’m guessing that by the hours I see him come and go. Why does that matter?” I ask.

“If you know what time he’s gone, that would be the time to get in there and find some evidence.”

“Get in there?” I ask. “What are you talking about? Breaking into his apartment to find evidence? Have you lost your mind?”

“The screen is always in the bottom part of the window, I could pop that right out. I bet I could climb up that ledge and get to the window, just like that cat did. I was a gymnast when I was a little kid before my growth spurt.”

“Are you crazy? You want to go into a murderer’s apartment? Do you want to wind up like that cat?”

“No,” he says, putting his hand to his throat.

“I didn’t think so.”

“But I wouldn’t get caught like the cat did,” he says with a smile. “I think I’m a little smarter than a cat. And his blinds are usually up during the early evening when he’s gone. Even if he did come back, you could see him come into the main room first if I was in his bedroom and warn me. Through the window on the right you can see down the hall all the way to the front door. Maybe I could find the rope he strangled the cat with. Or maybe the saw and axe and whatever else he uses to cut up the bodies.”

“Oh my God, you’re serious. You’re out of your mind. There’s no way you’re going to scale the side of the building and crawl into his window to try to find evidence. Do you know how dangerous that could be? That’s what the police are for.”

“You said we don’t have any evidence to go to the police, so what good would they do unless we have some real evidence? So the only solution is to get some evidence.”

Icarus looks up to the window.

“I could get in there with no problem,” he says.

Just then, almost as if by cue, the bedroom blind goes up. A minute later, the other blind goes up. We can see him walking away, toward his kitchen. He comes back in sipping some coffee. We see him pass by the window here and there during the next hour or so, at one point carrying a plate as if he’s finished his breakfast.

“I remember when I worked the midnight shift and ate breakfast at weird times,” Icarus recalls.

A few minutes later we see him walking toward his front room and pulling on a jacket.

“He’s leaving for work right now!” Icarus says, rubbing his hands together. “I think it’s time to gather some evidence.”

“You really have lost your mind,” I tell him. We look up and see he appears to have left his apartment.

Icarus then darts into the living room and looks out the front window. He looks back and forth. “Look! There he goes! He’s headed out. See, you could even stand guard by just looking out this window, you could see if he was coming back.”

“You’re really serious, aren’t you? What if someone sees you? You can’t just break into someone’s apartment. You could end up going to jail yourself!”

“I’m not going to go to jail. No one will see me and he has no reason to come back until after work. Even if he does, you can just call me on my cell and warn me and I’ll get out of there. I bet I can find something; there’s got to be some evidence to tie him to the murders.”

We walk back into the bedroom. I look up at the window and then at him; he’s wearing a big anxious grin on his face like a little kid asking his parents for permission to do something he wants to do but probably shouldn’t. Maybe the element of risk and peril is what makes it more exciting.

“You can see if he’s coming back. It’s foolproof.”

“Key word ‘fool’,” I tell him.

“C’mon, we could be saving a life— or several lives. He’s going to kill again if we don’t do something. We’re the only ones that know, let’s get the evidence we need.”

“Shouldn’t we just be calling the police if we really think he’s the killer?”

“We could, but what good what it do? We didn’t see him kill anyone. They’d think we were just being amateur sleuths. We’re the only ones who can stop him. I can just go in there for a few minutes and look around. If I don’t find anything I’ll leave. It’ll be done in five minutes.”

“I don’t know, Icarus,” I say, shaking my head. “It just seems too dangerous.”

He makes a face, again like a little kid. But he’s not a little kid. He’s all grown up, quite adorable— and hard to resist.

“At least wait until it gets dark so maybe none of the neighbors will see you,” I say.

His face lights up. “Yes! Ok, it’s almost dark anyway. I don’t have long to wait, and there are only a couple of neighbors that can even see that window and most people keep their shades down all the time anyway.”

“I must be crazy for letting you do this,” I tell him. “I’m already starting to get a bad feeling about this. Am I going to regret this?”

“Oh it’ll be fun!”

“Fun?”

“Yeah, you called me Agent 99, now I’m really feeling like it.”

“Oh great, I’ve created a monster!”

I can’t believe I’m going along with this, but somehow I am. A few hours later, Icarus puts his plan into action. I keep questioning why I’m letting him do this, but I guess there is a little thrill to it, just a dash of danger can be exciting. I figure as long as I stay glued to the front window he should be ok— there’s no other way for the guy to get to his apartment. I just hope a neighbor doesn’t happen to see what’s happening and call the police on him.

“It’s dark!” Icarus says, rubbing his hands together with anticipation. “It’s time to gather some evidence.”

“I didn’t realize you were so adventurous— such a daredevil,” I tell him with a smile, although it’s a nervous one.

“You’re always underestimating me, just because I’m young and into things like fashion doesn’t mean I’m all fluff,” he says, running his fingers through his wavy blond hair. “You can’t judge a book by its cover, you of all people should know that.”

He’s so funny. He’s also very lovable right now.

“What are you going to say if a neighbor catches you?”

“I’ll say I got locked out. I’ll tell them I’m his new boyfriend and just moved in and can’t find my keys. I’m not a dumb blond, but I know how to play one.”

I smile.

“I guess so. You sure came up with that idea of being his new boyfriend pretty quick,” I tell him, narrowing my eyes to feign suspicion.

“What can I say?” he says with a smirk. “This blond hair comes with a brain!”

I laugh. It’s almost like he’s doing this to prove something to me.

“Just remember, he might be a killer.”

He walks over to my window and slides it open. I take a deep breath. I think I’m more nervous than he is. The window is only about two feet above the floor of the stairwell outside. He steps over it and gives me a smile and eyebrow raise as he slips out of the window.

“Agent 99 is on the assignment, chief.”

“Are you sure you’re going to be ok?” I ask.

“I should be back in five minutes. I have my cell, that’s all I need,” he quips and is on his way.

Is this really happening? I guess it is, as I see him walking away. I glance up into the dark sky then walk out into the living room and look out the front window. There is no one in sight on the sidewalk out front at first glance, but as always there are cars coming and going on both sides of the street. It’s a little past rush hour, but still pretty busy. Some pigeons have gathered on the street sign and light near the park to the right. A woman pushing a stroller goes down the sidewalk. No one is coming or going from my apartment complex.

If I look back through the living room into the bedroom (it is open like a studio apartment) I can still see out of that window, but not a full view. It’s a full moon so you can see even though it’s dark. I can glance back and forth because the walk from the sidewalk to in front of my window is about twenty yards, so it would take five or ten seconds for a person to walk that distance, so I can be sure not to miss him if he does come back for some reason.

I can see Icarus, or at least his legs, going across the ledge just under Thargold’s window. The angle from here prevents me from seeing any higher. I see his feet walk toward the window. He’s really doing it. My adrenaline starts to course through my body; I feel a nervous, anxious excitement, but also a little bit of dread and fear. Maybe I shouldn’t have let him do this.

I glance back to the front window to make sure the window man’s not coming back. When I look back to the bedroom window, I see just Icarus’s shoes on the ledge and they then disappear. I squint to make sure because despite the full moon it’s still pretty dark and hard to see from here. There’s no movement anywhere. Oh my God, he must be inside the window. My heart races. I take a deep breath and look back out the front window: still no one. I can’t see any sign of Icarus anymore, so I just keep a watch of the front window. I start to wonder what he might find, and what he might bring back. My mind runs through the possibilities. Maybe something with blood on it? I shudder at the thought of it.

Several minutes go by and I start to get anxious. I tell myself to chill, it may take a few minutes for him to find something. A few more minutes go by, and I glance out the front window then back toward my open bedroom window, hoping to see Icarus. Still nothing. I sigh. Just be patient I say to myself. A few more minutes go by of me glancing back and forth. This waiting is nerve wracking! I laugh at myself after thinking that— after all, he’s the one that’s scaled the building and climbed into a potential killer’s apartment. I have to hand it to him, he definitely has guts.

It seems like he should be back by now. I rub the index finger and middle finger of my left hand in a circular motion on the end of my thumb nervously. I glance back toward the open window and just then hear something. Is it Icarus? Is he coming back? I glance back out the front window and the flock of pigeons suddenly scatters into the sky from above where they were sitting. Then I see why: a large black crow swoops down and lands on top of the sign where the pigeons were. They saw him coming. Just then, something catches my eye— movement —and I realize I wasn’t paying attention and someone just walked by under the window. Oh crap! I caught just a glimpse of someone at the tail end of passing by my window. It probably wasn’t him I tell myself— he shouldn’t be coming back —but I don’t know for sure and I definitely can’t risk it. I grab my cell to call Icarus, but it drops to the hard wood floor with a clang.

“Holy shit!”

I hurriedly reach down, grab the phone and dial Icarus’s number as I run toward the bedroom window. It rings once and then twice. I bite my lower lip.

Answer, Icarus, answer! I say to myself. My heart is beating out of my chest. The killer could be heading into his apartment at this very minute. I can picture him going in the gate and coming up the stairs to his apartment. On the third ring I get even more nervous. Answer it! Icarus where are you? It has only been a matter of seconds but it seems much longer. I start to get a nervous feeling in my stomach. Answer the phone, Icarus!

“Hello,” he answers.

“Icarus get out of there now! Someone just walked by the front window, I couldn’t quite see who it was. He could be coming up the stairs by now. Get out of there now! Hurry! Hurry!”

“Ok!” he yells.

I look up at the window, but he isn’t there. Hurry, Icarus, hurry! I wonder where exactly he is in the apartment, is he close to the window? I am terrified I’m going to see the light flick on in the front room before he gets out of there. I never should have let him do this. If anything happens to him I would never forgive myself for letting him go in there. I knew this was a bad idea!

A chill goes through my entire body when I see what I dreaded: the light going on in the stranger’s front room. He’s in the apartment. Oh my God get out of there, Icarus, get out! I look up at the window and feel helpless. What should I do? I squirm and put my hand to my mouth in fear.

I see him and my heart nearly stops. The killer starts to walk up the little hall into his living room. Icarus is probably in the bedroom just a few feet away! Hurry, Icarus, hurry! Where are you? My pulse is racing. I feel like my heart is going to burst. I hear a crow squawk as it flies by above. I bite my lower lip. Icarus, where are you?

I sigh, then take a deep breath and exhale. I hate feeling so helpless. I take another deep breath and close my eyes for an instant. Where are you, Icarus? When I open my eyes there he is at the window! I feel my heart pounding as I see him climbing out. I see the stranger in the other window looking toward the bedroom. He hears something! Hurry, Icarus, hurry! My heart is pounding so fast I can hardly stand it. I am breathing fast and hard. My palms are getting sweaty.

I see him then hang by his hands out of the window— he is going to jump the one floor down rather than the way he climbed up there. That’s smart— it’s much quicker. I see him leap and it almost seems in slow motion. His shoes make a loud slap as he lands. The killer flicks on the light in his bedroom and quickly goes in. I can see his head looking in different directions. He definitely heard something.

“C’mon!” I say, but in a whisper. “Hurry! Hurry!”

Icarus runs over, ducks and climbs into the window. I quickly close it behind him and hug him. My pulse is racing so fast I can hardly breathe. I hold him tight and rub the back of his head; he is breathing hard.

“Thank God!” I say. “Oh my God, that was so close!”

“Was it him?” he asks, out of breath.

“Yes, the light just came on and I saw him walking into his living room right before you dropped out of the window! It was so close! I thought he was going to catch you— I was dying! I just had to stand here and watch. What could I do? I’m sorry I missed him at the front window earlier. I just saw a blur. I was looking at the pigeons and this crow. I only looked away for a second.”

“It’s ok, it’s not your fault and he didn’t catch me, but damn that scared me too. My heart is going a million miles an hour,” he says. “I thought to myself there are at least a dozen other people in the building it could be that you saw; I thought the odds were it probably wasn’t him, but I was still scared.”

“I know, better safe than sorry, especially when you’re dealing with a killer.”

As we look back up at his windows, he is looking out of the window that was left open. A chill whips through my body.

“Look,” I say. “Oh my God! Holy shit, that was so damn close. Too close.”

I hug Icarus again and he hugs me back.

“You crazy fucker! You scared the hell out of me! I never should have let you do that. What the hell was I thinking?”

We can see him walking around his bedroom; he knows someone was in his apartment and he’s looking around to see if anything has been stolen. But his darting looks are more than just someone who thinks they may have been robbed, they’re the frantic looks of someone who has something they don’t want found. I grab Icarus by the hand and pull him toward the bed.

“Get back away from the window,” I tell him.

The way he is looking around is very telling. It’s more than just him thinking someone broke in and tried to rob him. He knows something is up. He not only knows someone was there— he knows someone knows something.

I reach over and flick my light off. It’s quicker and less noticeable than trying to close the blinds.

He comes back to his window and looks out and around. I’ve never seen him do that before.

“That’s no ordinary look,” I tell Icarus. “That’s the look of someone who has something to hide.”

He squeezes my hand in the dark.

“I know, because you’ll never guess what I found.”

The Ring

“Something with blood on it?” I ask.

“No, but something that I’m guessing came from a dead body, and something that can definitely be traced. It’s a ring— a diamond ring.”

He opens his hand and shows me a wedding ring with a decent sized diamond.

“It’s a wedding ring. A woman’s wedding ring!”

“Oh my God,” I whisper, “you think it’s the wedding ring of the woman who was just murdered?”

“Of course, why else would he have a woman’s wedding ring? If it was in the box I might think it was a ring he was going to give someone, but this was just lying in his drawer. They said the woman who was killed was married.”

“Oh I didn’t even know that.”

“Don’t worry, I’m on the case,” Icarus says.

I can’t quite see him in the dark, but I can picture the proud look on his face. He definitely is trying to prove something to me— and I think he has. He’s not just fluff— he definitely has guts and guile.

Thargold walks out of the bedroom and the light goes out, then the other light goes out.

“It looks like he’s leaving. I wonder why he came back and is leaving again so soon?” I ask as I get up and pull down the shade and then turn on the light. “Especially since he looks like he knows someone was in his apartment. You’d think he wouldn’t just leave if he thought someone broke in. And I wonder why he came back so soon anyway.”

“Maybe he forgot something, I don’t know,” Icarus says. “Or he’s convinced himself he just left the window open. It was unlocked that’s how I got in so easy, I didn’t even have to pull out the screen like I planned. But all we have to do now is find out if the body of the woman had her wedding ring on. If she didn’t, then this has got to be her ring, and he’s the killer. I went in there for proof that he is the killer and I think that’s exactly what I got. I’m sure that’s what they’ll find out because that’s not all I found.”

“Oh my God, what?”

“Well, who keeps a saw and an axe in the bathroom closet? I mean, I know we already knew he had them, but doesn’t that seem like an odd place to keep them? Who would keep them there?”

“Someone who is constantly washing blood off of them?”

“Exactly, he must clean them in the shower. That’s probably where he cuts them up too,” Icarus says. “It’s the best place with all that blood. That Norman Bates was no dummy!”

“So Norman Bates you know? That goes even farther back than Get Smart and Agent 99.”

“Psycho is a classic. Everyone knows that movie and The Bates Motel. That movie was so good. You should write a book based on that movie, with a modern day spin.”

“That’s not a bad idea, a modern day Psycho. Maybe that will be my next book.”

“I love it,” Icarus says. “Norman was very smart about killing that woman in the shower; he just washed the blood away when he was done. Or…his mother did.”

I laugh but it’s nervous laughter. This guy really is the killer, it’s starting to sink in. And Icarus just jumped out of his apartment right as he was getting back home. I take a deep breath.

“This is crazy,” I say. “Damn. This is blowing my mind.”

“I know,” he says, “I feel the same way. It almost seemed like a game of murder mystery at first, it was fun. Now it’s getting more real and way scarier. So do we call the police and ask them if the woman had her wedding ring on? And how do I explain having it?”

“That’s a good question. I didn’t even think of that.”

“Well think of something, you’re the writer!”

“Ok, give me a second. Maybe we could say we saw them in the window kissing and then it seemed to turn into a fight. And when they were fighting her wedding ring fell off and out the window. We can tell them we almost called the police, but didn’t and we are now sure because we heard about a married woman being murdered.”

“Her ring just fell off? And then out the window? That’s pretty far-fetched. Can’t you come up with something better than that?”

“Can you?” I ask. “I think that’s pretty good off the top of my head.”

“I guess,” he says reluctantly. “If he was grabbing her by the hand I guess it could have flown off like that, but it just doesn’t seem that likely. I don’t know if they’ll buy that story.”

I like that he doesn’t always agree with me or like everything I say. I like that he doesn’t pretend to be impressed by me when he isn’t.

“I don’t even know how we go about it,” I confess. “Do we just call 9-1-1 and say we think we have the ring of the woman who was murdered?”

“My friend Jo Ann’s brother is a cop,” he tells me. “I’ll ask her what we should do and how we go about it.”

“Oh, ok, cool.”

“I’ll call her later on my way to meet Santiago and Jaxon at Chaos— although now I’m thinking I should back out of our plans. I shouldn’t just go out clubbing tonight like nothing’s happened.”

“No, you should still go out, it’s Jaxon’s birthday. You shouldn’t miss it, he’s one of your best friends and you all planned this night out. It doesn’t do any good not to. I’m in no danger, he has no clue we know anything. All we can do is get a hold of the police and let them handle it. See what your friend Jo Ann says we should do.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine, don’t worry about it. There’s no reason for you to not go out.”

“Well, then you should come too,” he says.

“No, I told you I need to write a little tonight. You go have fun.”

“You need to have some fun too. You hardly ever want to go out.”

“I know,” I say. “See what a boring boyfriend I would be.”

“There’s nothing boring about you. I think it’s pretty damn sexy that you’re a published author. All my friends think it’s so cool.”

“So that’s why you want me to be your boyfriend, now I see.”

“Oh you!” he says with a smile.

Later that night before heading out he tries to get me to come with him one last time.

“It’d be more fun with you. Are you sure you don’t want to come? I feel funny leaving you here with a killer that close by.”

“Go and have a good time. I’ll be fine, it’s not like he knows that we know anything,” I tell him.

”That’s true, but I’m definitely coming back tonight, there’s no way I’m letting you sleep here alone. I should be back by midnight or so.”

I give him the side eye, knowing he never cuts his nights out that short.

“One o’clock at the latest,” he says with a big, intentionally cheesy smile that says you know I’m lying, but you don’t mind do you?

“Are you sure you’ll be back? What if you meet some hot guy?”

“I told you I’m not dating— or screwing —anyone but you. You can say we’re not exclusive all you want, but I’m not interested in anyone else.”

I have to smile. “Ok, I’ll give you a key just in case I want to go to bed before you get back.”

“I’m finally getting a key!” he says as I start to take two keys off my keyring.

I furrow my brow. “Not to keep,” I tell him. “And it’s actually two keys, the silver one is for the front gate and the bronze one is for the front door.”

“Cool, thanks. I’m getting keys! I guess it’s official!” he says playfully. “You’re the best boyfriend in the world.”

I roll my eyes, but he still gives me a kiss. I shake my head and laugh because he knows what I’m thinking and I know that’s why he said it.

“You are too much,” I say with another laugh. “I’ll probably be up anyway because I usually stay up late when I write, so have fun. Tell Jaxson and Santiago I say hi.”

“I will,” he says. He gives me a kiss and a wink and is out the door.

After he leaves, I pull up my latest work in progress on my PC but just stare at the screen. I’m too distracted and can’t write so I decide maybe a power nap will help. I toss and turn for several minutes thinking about the man in the window and the fact that we are now almost positive he is the murderer. Someone who lives thirty feet from me! Should we have already called the police? What exactly do we tell them when we do? We can’t really tell them the truth about how we got the ring. I guess we’ll know better after Icarus’s friend Jo Ann talks to her brother. I sigh and just try to clear my head so I can take a half an hour nap. It isn’t easy to fall asleep, but eventually I do.

I am in my bed, just as I was when I fell asleep. I mumble something in my sleep, toss and turn, and then sit up in my bed and look up toward his window. The light is on and I see a shadow of movement. I hear the faint sound of paper being folded. It’s an odd sound to identify, but I’m sure that’s what I heard. I look above the window and past the top of the building into the dark sky. It’s pitch black. I look back at the window and the light goes out. I look back up at the dark sky to the sound of large wings flapping but can see nothing. I imagine a large bat in my mind, but by the sound of the flapping it would be bigger than any bat in existence. I quickly close my window. I hear a bird of some kind squawking. That makes me feel a little relieved, although it would have to be a huge bird as well— maybe a raven?

I notice there is a small nightlight on near my front door. I crinkle my forehead at the sight of it. It has never been there before. Did Icarus put it there because he was worried about me? That’s so sweet. He’s making it hard for me not to fall for him. He was anxious about me being here alone and put a little nightlight in. I smile to myself at the thought of that, but then remember I was there when he headed out, he didn’t do it then and I don’t remember seeing it earlier— or ever. Where the hell did this nightlight come from? For a moment I am confused. For some reason it reminds me of spending the night at my grandmother’s as a kid. She always had nightlights in the halls and bathroom. The warm feeling that gives me quickly fades as I feel a cold chill as if a door has been opened somewhere letting in the cold night air. I squint and look toward the front door and the nightlight. It is quiet, but then I hear the front gate slam shut downstairs. The sound of footsteps getting louder as they come up the stairs makes me shudder. Is it the killer? I picture a dark shadow of a man creeping up the stairs. I pull my covers tight around me.

The footsteps get closer and closer. My heart starts to race. I’m scared and am not sure what to do. I know the door is locked so I’m thinking just be quiet and don’t make any noise. Don’t let him know you are here.

The footsteps stop for a moment just as they near the front door. I brace myself expecting him to try and break in. My eyes zoom in on the door knob, expecting him to try turning it from the other side. What will I do if I see the knob turning? I should have already called the police, but I’m frozen in fear. I take a deep breath and try to keep myself calm, but my heart is thumping. I look to the door and just above the door knob I see the chain lock is off! I always chain lock the door but there it is just hanging straight down. I must have forgotten to do it after Icarus left. My heart sinks as I try to retrace exactly what I did when Icarus left. I spend most of my time by myself and am used to automatically locking the door when I come in, but did I remember after he left? Suddenly it hits me—of course I didn’t put the chain lock on, Icarus couldn’t have gotten in if I did. I hear a few more footsteps as they reach the front door. I take a deep breath. It is suddenly still and quiet. I feel like I should be running or calling the police, but I am scared stiff in my bed pulling the covers around me like a little boy with visions of the boogey man. I feel absolutely frozen in fear. I can feel tightness in my chest. My mouth feels dry.

As I breathe in and hold my breath in anticipation, I expect to hear the rattling of the door knob, but instead I hear that odd noise again, like paper rustling— being moved or folded. I peek from my covers and curiously look toward the door. What is he doing? I am startled but not scared— more puzzled —when a folded piece of paper is slid under the door. I crinkle my nose. I look over at it almost in disbelief. I sigh with relief, but at the same time am totally baffled. What the hell? The killer is leaving me a note? Why would he do that? I wonder what it says. Then it hits me. It’s a trap. He’s still there at the door, waiting for me, standing on the other side— waiting to pounce —maybe with a knife or his axe. I shudder at the thought. My mind flashes to him with a bloody axe, chopping up his victims. I see the axe rise high in the air, and then come down— a scream —and then blood splattering. The axe rises again with blood dripping from it, and then down again. Blood splatters everywhere. I then see him with a saw, starting to cut up a bloody body. I shake my head and try to wipe the images away. I look back to the note. He just wants me to come over to the door to read it so I’ll be within striking range.

It’s then I realize if I didn’t chain lock the door when Icarus left did I also forget to deadbolt it? Is the door not even locked at all? Holy shit. I get a sinking scary feeling. I feel the fear building inside me. When I breathe in the air feels cold. Why am I just lying here in bed with the killer just a few feet away outside an unlocked door? Get up and run, I tell myself. But I can’t. I’m frozen. I take another deep breathe, trying to calm myself. Just then, the silence is broken. It’s not a loud sound but it makes me jump because I’m so clenched with fear. I hear him slowly moving away from the door. I then hear the footsteps going down the stairs and then the front gate shuts. I exhale. I’m relieved, but also anxious about what the note will say. I sit there for a moment trying to work up the courage to turn on a light to read the note. I guess I could try reading it by the light of the nightlight. I try to work up the courage to get out of bed.

A few moments later, I notice his light go back on in his window. Clearly, he wasn’t trying to trap me to come to the door because he’s back at his place. He came down here and left me a note? What the heck could it possibly say? I’m more curious than ever.

I peek out of my covers and look around the room as if expecting to see a ghost. I pull the covers down in my bed and take a deep breath. I slowly creep out of bed. Instead of turning on the bedroom light I go into the living room and turn the far light on and use the dimmer to dim the lighting. I go back and grab the note and open it. My hands are shaking a little as I hold it and my heart pounds as I begin the read the words.

You are being deceived. You are not the only one window watching. I see what is going on. I’d be careful if I was you. Icarus had the ring all along. Think about it. Figure it out or you’ll be next.

—The Stranger in the Window

Oh my God. My heart stops. My mind races. Icarus? He had the ring all along? That would mean…that Icarus killed her. What the hell? Icarus the killer? That isn’t possible, is it? My mind races with thoughts of how long I’ve known Icarus and how well I really know him. Could he really be the killer?

Just then, I hear something. I tilt my head to listen close. Footsteps, softer than before but slowly coming up the stairs. I take a deep breath. They continue until they stop just outside the front door. I look and see the knob turning. I freeze. I watch it turn all the way and then click. The sound of the click makes my heart race and pound almost out of my chest. I know what that click means. My worst fear is realized: it was unlocked. A huge wave of fear envelops me. I can hardly catch my breath. The front door swings open, scaring the living hell out of me.

“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh!” I scream.

It’s Icarus.

At the Window

I look into Icarus’s eyes and they look wild and crazy. He has a sinister snarl on his face that I’ve never seen before. I can hardly believe my eyes. I scream at the top of my lungs.

I jerk awake and sit up in my bed. I look toward the front door; it is dark. There is no nightlight. There is no Icarus. I exhale, shake my head and look around, doing a double take. It was a nightmare. I sigh with relief and grab a water bottle and gulp some down. I sigh again. Well, that nap was more than I bargained for, I think to myself. That was terrifying. It seemed so real. I can almost hear the footsteps coming toward the door. I look back toward the door. I take a deep breath and repeat in my head that it was just a dream and try to calm myself down. I take another gulp of water.

I think about the nightmare. Icarus had the ring all along. That’s nuts. What a weird dream. The guy we thought was the murderer sent me a note warning me Icarus is the killer instead of him? Crazy. I look up toward his window, but the lights are out. Ok, none of that really happened, it was just a dream. I sigh again and shake my head. Back to reality, I tell myself. I sit up straight in my bed and clear my head. I tell myself again it was just a nightmare. Nothing has changed. You’re fine. I manage a smile. I get up out of bed and remember why I took the nap in the first place. It’s early, I can still get some writing done.

I grab my half empty espresso and zap it in the microwave and then sip it as I start working on my latest book. It’s still hard to concentrate, but I’m able to knock out a few pages before I take a break.

It’s now almost midnight and I turn off the light next to my PC and flop down on the bed just to relax for a few minutes. Laying on my back, I look straight out my window and see his windows are dark. I take a deep breath and close my eyes just for a minute. I’m not falling back asleep again, I tell myself. I’ve had enough nightmares. My mind wanders to Icarus out at the club. That relaxes my state of mind. He’s probably having a great time. I can just see him dancing at the club. I’m sure all the guys are after him— he’s so cute, and I think at his age a little oblivious to just how attractive he is. I smile. I’m betting I don’t see him until around 2 a.m.

I look back up at the window for a second, but the lights still aren’t on. I close my eyes again. Is this guy really the killer or have we just convinced ourselves of it? The nightmare about the ring makes no sense. If Icarus were the killer, I would have been dead a long time ago! I laugh at the thought of that. Icarus the killer? I picture his cute little face. Him the killer? That’s ridiculous! That part of the dream is so strange, I wonder why I dreamt that? He’s not the one I’ve seen in the window with different people. He’s not the one with an axe and a saw. Sometimes I’m not sure what my dreams mean. Sometimes a dream is just a dream, I tell myself. Then a thought pops into my head, maybe it’s about trust. Maybe the dream is just questioning how much I trust him. I do trust him, I think to myself, but then a little voice says, but not enough to be his boyfriend.

Before I know it, I have drifted off again, but only briefly. I think I willed myself not to fall into a deep sleep because I didn’t want to have another nightmare— I can still hear those footsteps coming up the stairs. When I wake back up, I can see the light is on in his window. I get up and go to the blinds and peek out and up toward his window. He is standing sideways in his bedroom window and appears to be alone. I hear some sort of bird squawk as it flies by. I look up into the dark sky. That’s weird, I think to myself, didn’t a bird squawk in my dream too? Just then, my PC screen goes dark, so I know I only nodded off for a very short time. When I look back at the window I almost jump out of my skin. My heart almost stops. He’s looking right at me! His eyes are laser focused right into mine. My chest feels heavy. A cold chill whips through my entire body. Holy hell, his eyes are burning a hole right through me. He knows I’ve been watching him! I can see it in the way he is glaring down at me.

I jump away from the window, but I know he saw me. His eyes were looking right at me—and the way he was staring at me! It gives me the creeps. I literally feel a chill and clench both fists together as if to give myself warmth or strength— I’m not sure which —it’s a gut reaction. I realize my lights aren’t on, but the moonlight is definitely enough for him to see me peering through my blinds. His eyes looked directly into mine and not in the way a person normally looks at you. There was a sinister intention in his stare. He realizes I’ve been staring up at him. He caught me in the act. And I know he has to wonder if it’s the first time I’ve watched him. That glare told me he thinks, like the cat, that maybe I know too much. I can’t help but come to the next conclusion. Will I be next? I feel a queasiness in my stomach. An image of the dead cat with the noose around its neck flashes through my brain. I can almost hear the cat screeching in pain. I put my hand to my throat.

I rub my arms and walk further away from the window and sit in the chair at my desk. As I click my mouse, the screen lights up and my eyes dart back toward the window. Is he watching? Did he notice it is slightly lighter in the room now? I see by my PC it’s almost 1:30 a.m. The bars will be closing soon. I’ll be happy to have Icarus here; I really don’t want to be alone. I feel like I should call the police, but I don’t really know what I’d say, especially since I don’t have the ring, Icarus does. I think about the nightmare and the note saying Icarus had the ring all along. I shake my head. It was just a crazy dream.

Then something comes to me that I know from writing. There is sometimes a character who turns out to be an ‘unreliable narrator’, a person speaking in a book who is actually lying. What he has said was taken as fact, but it actually wasn’t true at all. What did I know about this killer? What Icarus has told me. I didn’t even know he existed until Icarus told me about him. And then he told me about the ‘gay killer’ becoming the ‘bisexual butcher’ the day after we saw him with a woman in the window. He’s the one who told me everything I know about the killer— even his last name. It was Icarus who went to the mailbox and came back with his name. Every single thing I know about the killer has come from him. All the conclusions I’ve come to are based on things Icarus told me about the killer. Could it be those things aren’t true?

The words from the letter ring in my head. “You are being deceived. I’d be careful if I was you…or you’ll be next!”

Wait a minute. “I’d be careful if I was you.” That’s the same exact thing that voice said in the fog to Icarus and me that night in the fog! It was a voice coming from somewhere very close to me. It almost sounded like a man pretending to be a woman. Could it have been Icarus himself disguising his voice? I get a sudden cold chill and cringe at the thought of it. I am getting a strange feeling that this is adding up. Is it really possible? How well do I really know Icarus? We’ve only been dating for a few months.

Then I stop and laugh at myself. What the hell am I thinking about? Icarus the killer? I shake my head. That doesn’t make any sense at all, and I know he could never do anything like that. I smile and rub my chin. I just had a strange dream and then my mind started racing from there. I nod my head, agreeing with myself. I guess I’ve written too many mysteries. Clearly my imagination has been running away with itself. I laugh at myself again. Icarus is not the killer. I’ve always had quite the imagination— and often it is on the dark side. I’ve become pretty fond of Icarus I realize, and even though I haven’t known him that long, I think I know him pretty well. There’s no way he’s the killer. I trust him.

I get up from the chair and walk to the front windows and peer down through the blinds, looking for Icarus. He should be home soon. I walk back into the bedroom and lay back down on the bed, but in the opposite direction I sleep in. My head is at the end of the bed, closer to the window. I can see through the blinds a bit at this angle and can see his bedroom light is still on. I can’t stop thinking about his eyes looking directly at mine.

He knows I know, I think to myself.

Maybe I should call a cab and get the hell out of here. I wish Icarus would get back. I could call him, but it’s almost closing time for the bars so he’ll definitely be home any minute. I just need to chill for a few minutes and he’ll be back— and he will have talked to his friend Jo Ann and maybe will know what we should do. I don’t give any validity to the dream about Icarus having the ring all along, meaning he was the killer. Even if I haven’t known him that long, that just doesn’t add up. It’s ludicrous. But I do wonder why I dreamt that. I look toward the front door and think about the nightmare when the door swung open and it was Icarus.

In the dream, I did think he was the killer. Even though I don’t think there is any possibility at all of that being true, it is in my head now since that dream. But when I picture his face any doubts fade and I smile. I guess I am kind of falling for him just a little. Maybe I have been for some time, but just didn’t want to admit it. I think him wanting so badly for us to be ‘boyfriends’ made me rebel against it. I guess I’ve always been that way. Tell me I have to do something, and it’s the last thing I want to do.

I lay on my back for a few minutes before turning over onto my stomach, the way I usually sleep. A few minutes later, the PC screen goes black, as it does after ten minutes of inactivity. Now the room is completely dark.

I sigh and take a deep breath. I close my eyes for a couple of minutes but don’t want to fall asleep. I yawn and then open my eyes. Where is Icarus? Why isn’t he home yet? I smile to myself. Did I really just think that? Why isn’t he home yet? I didn’t say it out loud, but I definitely said it in my head. I’m glad he doesn’t know that. He’d be jumping on that and saying it’s official we’re a couple. Instead, I’ll be more likely to tell him about the dream with the window guy’s note saying Icarus had the ring all along. I don’t know why I keep thinking about that. Maybe it’s because the dream seemed so real. It also keeps going through my head that experts say dreams are trying to tell us something, and that we should listen to them.

As I look to my window, which is only about three feet from my face when lying this way, it looks darker than usual. Even with the blinds down, there is usually some light from the moon shining down at my window late at night. I guess the fog is blocking the moon tonight. When it gets foggy, the stars and moon can be totally obscured. Even though that could be the case, I have an uneasy feeling. I look back toward the window. It almost looks like there’s a shadow in front of it. It also looks like the lights are out in the stranger’s windows. Maybe that’s it, when his light is on it makes the air well and outside my window a little lighter. It just looks so dark. I’m not sure I really want to, but I slowly get up from the bed and go to the window and peek through the blinds. I freeze in my tracks. I take a deep breath. My chest pounds. I suddenly realize why the window looks so dark. The only question now is it already too late? I stay frozen in my tracks, too scared to move. There is a dark shadow of someone standing right outside my window looking in at me!

My heart nearly stops. A chill of fear rips through my body. What the hell should I do? I gulp. It’s him. He does know we’ve been watching him. I don’t know exactly how much he knows, but it’s enough that he’s coming after me. He is literally a foot away from me on the other side of the window looking in at me. My stomach instantly feels queasy. I feel warm, and feel sweat starting to form on my forehead. Should I pretend I don’t see him and just casually walk away from the window and then make a run for it? Or should I run for my life now? Because my room is totally dark, maybe I can see him but he can’t see me. Just then, I see slight movement from the shadow. Is it because he sees me now?

My heart is pounding faster and faster. What do I do? I decide maybe the best approach is to slowly back away. I take one small step back and take a deep breath. I exhale and feel like all the air is going out of my lungs. I’m terrified. That dark shadow in the window is so close to me, just a thin layer of glass stands between me and the killer. As scared as I am, a strange realization comes to me. I live my life looking at my PC or TV, but now a dark reality is about to break through that plate of glass that separates fantasy from reality. The outside world is about to collide with the inner world I live in. I take another deep breath. Maybe I should just scream for help. I bite my lower lip, knowing I have to do something. Just scream, I tell myself, surely the neighbors will hear and call the police. Just as I am about to scream, I hear a sound at the window. I look and the shadow man is crouching, reaching toward the window. My heart races. The screen is suddenly ripped out of the bottom part of the window and in an instant he bursts through the now open part of the window. I’m shell-shocked and freeze in terror. It’s dark but I can just see his hands coming for me, and I tell myself to run. For a moment I am frozen, feeling like I am in a nightmare where someone or something is after me and for some reason I can’t run.

You’re not dreaming, I tell myself, run! I jerk out of my frozen state and turn and start to run for the front door. I try to catch my breath and dart toward it. I reach for the doorknob and turn it. My hand is shaking in fear. My heart pounds, knowing how close I am to escaping. Just as I turn the knob, I feel a hand grab me from behind. In an instant, I feel his other hand, grabbing me with great force. He tosses me back away from the front door into my bedroom toward the kitchen, and I go flying onto the floor. This guy is strong. I roll and instinctively jump back up to my feet and run away from him and through the kitchen into the bathroom. I slam and lock the door behind me. He starts rattling the doorknob from the other side, jerking it back and forth.

I hear something clacking and although it’s dark I can just make out the blade of a knife sliding through the crack in the door. He’s trying to unlock the door with a knife! I stare at the blade, not sure what to do. It’s not something you can just grab at to stop. The knife blade slides up and down and back and forth. It stops when it comes to the bolt that is keeping it locked. The blade pokes back and forth in the area of the lock. The bolt is holding strong. I sigh, as it seems like the knife isn’t going to work. But then fear quickly returns. How am I going to get out of here? I’m now trapped in here with the killer outside. How do I get out of here? I look to the side wall and slide open the small window there.

“Help! Help!” I yell at the top of my lungs. “Call the police! Someone’s trying to kill me! Call the police!”

I notice the knife is not sticking through anymore. My minds races. Is he still at the door? Or has he run outside knowing where this window is? In an instant, I have my answer.

An arm reaches through the window, just like in my dream, except this time it’s real and has a knife in it. He slashes it toward me. My eyes have adjusted to the dark a bit and I grab a big, thick candle from a shelf behind the toilet and slam it into his forearm. I bash it good, and then again. I hear him grunt in pain. He pulls his hand back out of the window and I instantly drop the candle and slam the window shut with both hands.

Holy shit! I feel my hands shaking on the bottom of the window sill. I reach up and quickly lock it. I pull my hands away from it and put one of them over my chest. My heart is racing so fast I take a deep breath and try to calm myself down. I reach for the door to unlock it but then stop myself. I don’t know where he is. Is he still outside this window or has he climbed back in the bedroom window, waiting for me to come running out of the bathroom? I put my ear to the door. I don’t hear anything but can feel my heart pounding a million miles an hour. It sounds totally quiet. I gulp. What the hell should I do?

I try to gather my thoughts. It’s almost two o’clock, Icarus should be here any minute. Should I just stay here until then? I yelled out the window, I know people heard me. But will anyone actually call the police? Stories of people watching murders and doing nothing flash through my mind. I can’t count on people to call the police. And what if Icarus and his friends decide to grab a bite to eat or something after the bar? He might be back later than I think. I’m not sure what to do. My mind is racing. I put my ear to the door again. It is so quiet. Did I scare him off? Did the screaming for the police do it? I think maybe it did. I take another deep breath and sigh again. I put my hand over my heart and try to calm myself down so I can think straight.

I put my ear to the door again. It is dead silent. I really don’t think he’s out there. If he had any sense he would have taken off after I screamed at the top of my lungs for the police. He must be gone. Trust your instincts they say, so that’s what I’m going to do. I’m pretty sure he’s gone. I just need to get to my cell phone and call the police, I can’t count on my neighbors to do it.

I look over at the doorknob. I take a deep breath and reach for it. I feel the metal in my hand and hold the knob in my hand for a moment, and take another deep breath. I then slowly start to turn it. Please let him be gone. I feel like I’m on a roller coaster when it pauses for a moment at the top of the first hill. You hold your breath and wait to hear that click, because when you do you know what’s going to happen.

I take a deep breath and continue to turn the knob almost in slow motion. I hear the click. My heart races. I brace myself and take another deep breath. I feel my heart beating fast. I put my ear to the door. It is still quiet. I slowly turn the knob all the way and slowly push open the door just a crack. It’s dark so I can’t see much but my eyes have adjusted to the dark enough so I can see a little bit. It’s totally quiet and I don’t see anything. My heart is still pounding. I exhale and try to stay as calm as I can.

I nudge open the door a little bit more. I suddenly become paralyzed in fear that he is right behind the door, waiting for me. If it was just a little lighter I might be able to see him there through the crack where the door hinges to the door frame, but it is too dark to know for sure if he is there. I take another deep breath. I push the door open a little further, almost cringing in fear that I am going to feel the door push against something— or someone. I will know the instant the door meets resistance that he is there. I take another deep breath and push it open a little more. Nothing. The door is almost halfway open now and if he were hiding behind it there wouldn’t be much room left. I know the next little push will let me know for sure if he is there or not. I can feel my hand trembling on the door knob. Damn maybe I should just slam the door back shut, lock it and wait for the police or Icarus. Doubt starts to creep in that I am making a terrible mistake. The phrase “I’d turn back if I were you,” runs through my mind.

Just do it, I tell myself. Push the damn door all the way open and find out. He’s either there or he isn’t. I take another deep breath and push the door all the way open. It seems to happen in slow motion. I feel nothing. He’s not there. I sigh with relief. Then my eyes dart ahead of me through the kitchen and into my bedroom. I step out of the bathroom. It is so quiet. Almost too quiet. My eyes dart around suspiciously, looking for any possible movement, any possible shadow. I don’t see anything so I take another step, and then another into the kitchen. He’s gone, I tell myself, trying to calm down. He’d be stupid to still be here after I screamed out of the window for people to call for the police. If he’s smart, he’s not just gone from my place, but his place and the entire building as well.

My cellphone is on the nightstand next to my bed. I take the last two steps out of the kitchen and pause as I look into my bedroom. It’s dark but I can walk this route with my eyes closed; I walk it when I get up to go to the bathroom and back at night. Just to my right is the wall with the window he came in, on the left is a narrow wall just before my closet. My heart rate is starting to return to normal, but I won’t feel relief until I call the police. I close my eyes for a moment and take several deep breaths. I try to collect myself. As I stand there I realize just how quiet it is. I suddenly feel a stab of fear because it really is too quiet. My eyes dart around, squinting in the darkness. Surely if he was here I would know it by now. What would he be waiting for?

I take a deep breath and prepare to walk into the bedroom and grab my cell. It’s only about five or six steps away. Just as I’m about to step into the bedroom, I freeze. I literally stop in my tracks and pull my leg back. If it wasn’t so quiet I might not have even noticed it. But I do. It is very faint, but unmistakable. I freeze in terror. What I can just barely hear chills me to the bone. I can hear someone breathing. Someone extremely close to me. Oh my god. He must be right around the corner, waiting for me. My heart is pounding and my legs feel almost numb; I am too afraid to move a muscle. What now? I take a deep breath.

“You’ve made a terrible mistake, my friend,” a voice whispers in the dark with a sinister tone.

A chill races through my body at the sound of it— I almost jump out of my skin.

“You should have stayed locked in the bathroom, but it’s too late now. I know you’ve been watching me and you know too much. I know what you took.”

The deep whispery voice makes me shudder. I feel hot in my face and a cold tingle on my arms at the same time. My heart races.

“Give me back the ring.”

“Why should I?” I manage to choke out, too scared to move, not knowing exactly where in the darkness he is. I have a general idea of where the voice is coming from, but don’t know exactly where he is.

“Give me the ring and I’ll let you live,” the voice says.

“Why should I believe you? Besides, I don’t even have it, Icarus…” I stop myself from saying anything else.

Why am I even talking to him? He’s going to kill me no matter what I do. I need to make a run for it. It’s now or never, I tell myself and take a deep breath. I bolt toward the front door. It’s only a few feet away. My eyes have adjusted to the dark and I can see a little better now although it’s still pretty dark. I get to it in an instant and I can feel my hand shaking as I unlock it and grab the door handle, but just then he grabs me from behind, one hand around my neck, choking me.

As I turn to knock his hand away, I see a raised knife in his other hand, coming down toward me. I gasp at the sight of it as flashes of blood and the knife stabbing me run through my mind. I can almost feel the cold blade slicing into my flesh. I cringe. I grab the hand with the knife with both of mine and slam it into the wall, knocking the knife out of his hand. It clangs to the hardwood floor and sounds like it lands somewhere near the end of the sofa.

He tries to grab me and I pull away and start to run, but he knocks me sideways into the bedroom and I fall into my desk. As I push back off of it, the light from the PC screen goes back on.

He tries to choke me again, this time with both hands, but I grab him by the wrists and we joust back and forth. It all is happening so fast but by the light of the PC screen I look at him and realize it is Thargold. I’ve never seen him up close and it is surreal. I realize looking at him from my window he almost didn’t seem real. It was like I was watching him in a movie, but now here he is in real life. He did see us looking and then saw me again tonight and knows we know he’s the killer.

A peculiar thought runs through my mind considering the circumstance I’m in. Even if he kills me, Icarus will know who did it. He won’t get away with this. This give me a strange sense of satisfaction even though I’m fighting for my life.

We fall to the floor fighting, with me basically trying to keep him from choking me. He is buff and stronger than me, and it seems the longer this battle goes on, the more he’ll have the advantage. I start to feel panicked.

He suddenly starts ripping his own t-shirt and I wonder what kind of nut is this? He rips it again and again, tearing it into strips. Then as he grabs my wrist, I realize what he’s trying to do. He’s using the strip of material to try to tie my hand to the sofa leg. Before I know it, he has done just that. With one hand tied, he now has a bigger advantage and just as quickly has my other hand tied to the other sofa leg.

“I’ve got you now, don’t try to fight it,” he says, looking me right in the eye.

I get a really weird feeling from the way he is looking at me. It’s a bizarre look considering he is trying to kill me. It looks like there is lust in his eyes. Suddenly, he leans down and puts his hand on the side of my head and kisses me.

“You have to be like the rest,” he tells me. “I always kiss them first.”

Oh god, I think to myself, he’s fucking crazy. The guy is a lunatic.

He reaches under the bed and grabs the knife and holds it above my chest.

“And with a kiss, you die,” he says.

This guy is so out of his mind. The way he said it was almost like he was reciting a line from a play or something. Doesn’t he realize this isn’t just acting? This is real life. I get a chilling feeling realizing how insane he is. He sounds like he has no grip on reality. You’d never know it to look at him, his outside package of good looks conceals a very ugly, twisted and dark person inside.

I see the knife coming at me in a blur. Everything has happened so fast it almost doesn’t seem real, but I know it is. I cringe at the thought of the blade plunging into my chest. I can almost see the blood. I suck in air as the fear consumes me. He’s going to kill me. This is it. My hands are tied, he’s stronger than me and has a knife. What chance do I have? Fearing death as an abstract is one thing, but to fear it in the present moment is another. I’m going to die. He’s going to stab me to death and then chop me up into pieces like the rest. They’ll find my bloody body parts in a trash can. The reality of that hits me hard. There’s no denying it.

I hear a bang and then another sound. What the hell was that? It is all happening so fast. My heart is racing and my mind is spinning. I’m confused for a moment, thinking the bang was something in my own head, a blood vessel in my brain popping or something. What the hell is going on? What was that sound?

I look up and see the knife raised above me, about to come down at me and slash me to bits. I cringe and realize this is the end. I just hope Icarus makes sure this maniac pays for it. I can imagine the cold metal blade slashing into me over and over, blood dripping from my body. I look up at the knife and know there’s nothing I can do as I see it thrusting down toward me. Just then I see hands grabbing his wrist, twisting it as it comes toward me until the knife falls out of his hand.

What the hell is happening? Have I already been stabbed and now I’m hallucinating?

“Mother fucker!” he yells out.

And then I see what is happening. Behind him, it’s Icarus!

He and the stranger battle back and forth, as I yank at ties around my wrists. I see Thargold reach down to the floor for the knife.

“Look out, Icarus, he’s reaching for the knife!”

Now an image of the stranger stabbing Icarus flashes in my head. Blood pouring out of him. The knife slashes down at him again and again. Blood is everywhere. I’m imagining the worst and I try to wipe these bad thoughts from my brain. I turn my body and try to kick him.

I see Thargold clutch the knife in his hand and he lunges toward Icarus with it. This sends me into a rage. I furiously yank at the ties around my wrists. I flail my legs wildly and manage to kick Thargold in the back of the leg. He buckles a bit and has to regain his balance. I yank even harder at the ties as he thrusts the knife toward Icarus. I kick him again and yank my hands as hard as I can and the right one comes loose! I kick him in the leg again as hard as I can and hurriedly tear my other hand free and jump up to my feet.

He has the knife raised above his head about to try and come at Icarus again. I grab his wrist with both hands and yank his hand back as hard as I can.

“You son of a bitch!” he yells, twirling around and knocking me backwards onto the floor, yanking his hand free from me. He raises the knife above his head again and lunges down at me with it. I see the knife coming toward me, just as I had imaged it earlier. Was it and all the blood a premonition? I grimace in fright. I try to gather myself to fight back but the knife is coming at me too fast. I scream bracing for the feel of the cold blade ripping into my flesh. I can picture the blood oozing out of my chest and the bloody blade going up and coming down at me, again and again. I can almost see the blood splashing all over. I grimace. I can see his face in the dim light contorting into a look of evil as the blade comes toward me.

“Nooooooooooooooooo!” I yell out. The blade continues to thrust toward me.

But in another instant I see a candy dish from the coffee table being slammed into the back of Thargold’s head. And then again. The knife flies out of his hand and clangs to the floor beside me. He falls face down to the floor with a loud thud. There is blood starting to drip from the side of his head.

Suddenly the flurry of activity crashes to a halt. Thargold is still and silent. More blood pours out of the side and back of his head. Icarus is standing above him, holding the candy dish Mom gave me after Gran died. Blood drips from the white, milk glass candy dish. It’s a bizarre sight to see the candy dish I associated with my youth and happy times dripping with blood. I look up at Icarus in disbelief. His chest is heaving as he is breathing deep. Everything happened so fast, my nerves are shot and my thoughts are racing. I sigh and take an extremely deep breath. He smiles down at me, looking a bit in shock himself.

“Are you ok, Heston?”

“Yeah, I am thanks to you, but I don’t know about him. Look at the blood— oh my God! Did you kill him?” I ask.

“I hope so!” Icarus says. “God damn maniac! He was going to kill you!”

I’ve certainly never seen this side of Icarus. Lord, he’s pretty damn tough and scary when he’s mad— and saving my life.

“Call the police!”

“I already called the police on my way in, I heard you screaming,” he says, totally out of breath.

“I was screaming?” I ask. “I don’t even remember yelling. Everything happened so fast.”

“Oh my God, you we’re screaming at the top of your lungs. It was crazy. I called 9-1-1 immediately.”

He reaches down and helps pull me to my feet and then gives me a kiss and a big hug. I walk over and turn on the light.

“Are you sure you’re ok?” he asks.

“Yeah, thanks to you. Wow, you’re my hero, Icarus,” I say with a big smile. “You saved my life!”

“I guess my instincts just took over, I wasn’t even afraid, just pissed.”

I somehow manage to laugh. “Yeah, I could tell. I’ve never seen you mad like that. You’re a little scary. Actually, a lot scary. But it sure came in handy. Now… what about him?”

He is still lying motionless on the floor. Icarus reaches down and puts his hand to his wrist.

“He’s alive, I feel a pulse. And he isn’t bleeding that much, it’s just a little wound. When you get a cut on your head there’s always a lot of blood, it’s not as bad as it looks. He’s probably just knocked out. Hopefully he’ll stay that way until the police get here.”

“Should we tie him up or something?” I suggest.

“Wow, kinky,” he says with a smile. “What did you have in my mind?”

I have to laugh at him having a sense of humor at this moment. “You are too much. Really, Icarus? We both almost just got killed you know.”

“I know, I guess we should do something just in case to make sure he doesn’t come to and try to get away before the police get here.”

Just then, we hear sirens in the distance.

“Well, speak of the devil.”

“I think the devil is right here,” he says, looking down at Thargold. “We were right all along. I never should have left you here tonight just to go out. I’m sorry, Heston, he could have killed you. If he had I never would have forgiven myself.”

“It’s not your fault, Icarus, neither one of us knew exactly what to tell the police. All that matters is I’m ok and you’re ok. Hell, you saved my life. You have nothing to be sorry about.”

I cup my hand around the back of his neck and pull him close to me and kiss him.

“If it wasn’t for you…”

I then just start balling. I guess it’s a relief and I’m just letting it all out.

“What a mess,” I say.

He smiles and hugs me.

In a few minutes, the police arrive and it’s just in the nick of time as he starts to come to. Icarus was right, he just knocked him out. After they haul him off and leave with the ring Icarus gives them, I finally recover from the blur of what just happened.

“I’m surprised you called the police so fast. It’s almost like you were expecting it.”

“We actually left the bar about an hour ago and were hanging out at Jaxson’s place, but I had a bad feeling. I was telling them about the guy and what we saw and the more I thought about it, the more I was convinced he saw us looking up at him. I started to get a strong sense that he was going to come after you. I couldn’t fight the feeling, so I took an Uber over. It’s a good thing you finally gave me keys.”

“Finally? You’re so funny. Well, I guess it is a good thing I did. Otherwise, I would have been a goner, you wouldn’t have been able to get in the front gate.”

“Yeah, you owe me— you owe me big,” he says with a mischievous smile. He then reaches down with both hands and squeezes my butt.

“That’s not going to happen,” I tell him with a smirk. “You’d better find another way.”

“Really? I save your life and you’re still not going to give up that ass?”

“Some things are not negotiable. However, I think there are several other ways I can pay you back.”

“Oh yeah?” he says with an eyebrow raise. “That sounds good to me.”

I give him a big kiss and he strokes the back of my neck as I do.

“Well, that’s good for starters,” he says. “And actually I’d say we saved each other’s lives. He could have killed you before I even got there, so you managed to fight him off long enough until I got here. And then you got loose when I was fighting with him and grabbed his hands and got the knife out. So, there’s no damsel in distress scenario going on here— we definitely teamed up to save each other— and hopefully put this lunatic away for life.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” I say, planting another big kiss on him.

“I didn’t even tell you about the nightmare I had where he slid a note under my door saying you had the ring all along— that you were the murderer.”

“That’s crazy,” he says.

“Yeah, I know. I was afraid the dream was trying to tell me something, but I guess sometimes a nightmare is just a nightmare.”

He smiles and gives me another big kiss. We have a great night of wild sex and I wake up the next morning to him bringing me breakfast. We went at it so long and so late that it is almost noon. It was honestly the best night of sex I’ve ever had. I smile just thinking about it.

“You’re the best,” I tell him. “I should be making you breakfast today.”

“You’re right, you should,” he says with a smile. “But I love making you smile. And speaking of which, I think I’m a little too dressy, maybe I should slip into something more comfortable.”

“By all means,” I say.

He peels off his silk shirt and khaki shorts, then kicks off his Prada loafers. He reaches into a bag and pulls out a pair of basketball shorts and high-top sneakers and puts them on.

“What do you think?”

“I think you look like a million bucks— and hot as hell.”

“You said you’d like me better in sneakers and basketball shorts than all my designer clothes— I aim to please.”

“You succeeded,” I say.

“I do look kind of sexy— like a jock,” he says with a smirk. “I could actually get used to this look. It’s not so bad.”

Just then, someone buzzes from downstairs. I look out the front window and see it’s my friend Shawn, who I haven’t seen in months. We’ve been friends for years.

“It’s my friend Shawn, sorry I totally forgot he was coming by today. After last night it didn’t even cross my mind.”

“Oh it’s cool, I’ve wanted to meet him for a while now,” Icarus says. “And I’d say it’s pretty understandable you forgot considering everything.”

After I let him in, he immediately checks out Icarus, eyeballing him from head to toe. His smile and the twinkle in his eye tells me he approves.

“And who is this?” he asks.

“Oh, this is Icarus…” I say, looking over at him, “my boyfriend.”

Icarus breaks out into a huge smile. And for all my resistance and thinking this boyfriend stuff just isn’t me, it is all worth it for the look in his eyes and on his face. It means so much to him. And to my surprise, it does to me now too. It’s not as if we’re getting married, but boyfriend— that I can live with.

“Wow, boyfriend, huh?” Shawn says with a sly grin. “Heston, Heston, Heston— I never thought I’d see the day.”

“Neither did he,” Icarus says.

At the exact same time I say, “Neither did I.”

We all laugh.

Icarus leans into my ear, “I love you, Heston.”

“I know,” I tell him. “I love you too, Icarus. I guess it took me awhile to realize it. Now, are you finally going to tell me your real name, Icarus?”

He laughs and then I do too. He grabs my hand.

“Ok, I’ll tell you my real name.”

He looks into my eyes.

“Boyfriend,” he says with a smirk.

“Ok, boyfriend,” I say back.