Blank White

Every single day...

The air stung with damp cold as he ran at a light pace down the path. The early morning fog still clung into the air and on his skin, chilling his lungs with every breath and moistening the dirt beneath his shoes. Normally he wouldn't be out in this damp cold, the air freezing off his ears, but he had had a sudden urge to just go out. The path he ran was close by, and was surrounded by trees and plants. There's something special about the mornings: the way the air feels unmoved, feeling as though you're the lucky first to feel the fresh air. The way all the plants, moss and trees soak up the damp air, making all of nature's colours more profound. He knew this route well, had a routine to follow, and his resting place was coming up soon. But he would only have a few moments to rest as he heard someone approaching.


He knew who it was. Ok, well he didn't know her personally, but he had seen her run this path before, and had actually crossed paths with her as he followed the loop of his route about 20 minutes ago. She was what runners in those commercials for sneakers looked like: slim, toned yet curvy. Wearing those expensive LuLu Lemon yoga pants and a neon pink running jacket. Not to mention she was attractive, and far more in shape than he is. She clearly was more devoted to this than he was: not only did she have expensive active wear, but had an arm strap for her music, a bracelet that indicates your heartbeat, and one of those devices that monitors your step count. He had on shorts and a t-shirt, a light hoodie, and whatever runners he had lying around. All this regardless, he was determined not to have her pass him, which he knew was a losing battle. Eventually, after having pushed himself farther than his comfort zone, he slowed down and collapsed on a wooden bench. Almost to prove her point, she ran past him, down about 20 feet, then came jogging back.

"Nice work out, isn't it?" She said, running up to tie one of her laces on the edge of the bench.
She didn't sound winded at all, while he felt like he was dying. He hated her.
"Yeah," was all he could spare.

Every word you say...

She started to run in place. "It's nice running in the morning. The path is always less busy."
"Yeah, it's nice. A place for just for your thoughts." He said, looking over to her as she bounced up and down, looking at all her gadgets.
"Well, I'm going to head out." She said, fixing her headband. "See you on the loop." Soon she was out of sight, and he leaned back and rested on the bench.


The fog evaporated and the air started to warm as the sun broke through the horizon. He stood up, stretched his limbs, and began his last loop. He hated running when it was hot, as if sweating and burning from his own body heat wasn't enough. He was running a corner when a flash of white caught his eye. He stared at a tree where something white was dangling off the bark. He walked towards it (any excuse to rest again) and noticed it was a sheet of white paper, he froze. It seemed whoever draw this was in a hurry, since the drawing was hastily scratched on the page. On it were the words "ALWAYS WATCHES, NO EYES" with what looked like the shape of a person's head in the middle of the page, with no face, save for two x's where the eyes would have been. Strange, he thought, why someone would put this here, or would have even had the chance to place it up without them crossing paths. But as it the sun was rising and the air getting ever more warm, he decided to go on.

Every game you play...

Just another half loop to go, and he would be able to go home with the satisfaction of being the closest approximation of fit he could be. But damn, this stupid heat. As if me sweating bullets will make me run faster. This is really the last thing I need for to-- the temperature felt like it dropped 10 degrees. He began to shiver and could actually see his breath in the air like he could nearly an hour ago. He slowed his pace to a walk and looked around. As his eyes wandered, as if he could find the source of this temperature drop, he saw a figure quite a ways away. He couldn't quite see who it was, even with his glasses, but it was obvious that something wasn't quite right about it. He would have put his finger on the fact that whoever this was, they were wearing a classic business suit in the middle of a forest path, early in the morning, if it wasn't for the fact that this persons face was stark white, as white as a blank sheet of paper. Even stranger than this unfortunate skin complexion was that whoever this was, they were extraordinarily tall and impossibly thin, with long arms hanging low by their knees. He stood there, horrified by this figures sight, squinting to see any detail of this person's face; a nose, a mouth, eyes- a sudden rustle behind him whipped his head around in time to see a bird yank out a worm from the ground and fly away. He looked back to where the figure was standing, but it was gone.



He continued along the path, anxious eyes looking behind every bush and tree. There was no way he imagined that; he wasn't crazy. But how could a person possibly look like that? As his watchful eyes scraped through the scenery, he spotted another hanging paper. He slowed, looking around him to see if anyone was watching, and read the paper: "DON'T LOOK... OR IT TAKES YOU". A chill ran up his spine and he cringed. There was a scratched drawing of a person at the bottom of the page, a long person, with unnaturally long arms. He backed away from the tree slowly, as if it were a cobra springing to strike. He stepped on something with a crack. He looked down to see one of those step counters, the one he saw only 10 minutes ago. A blood curdling scream broke through the silence, and he ran, barely recognizing her voice. He was running so fast he barely missed it, but there it was, on the dirt. His chest feeling like it was going to explode, his heart pounding as if it was going to break free, he knelt to pick up the high-tech pink bracelet. He looked around, trying to find her, when he noticed a rapid beeping. It was coming from the bracelet. He looked at the LCD screen, and a number flashing with red urgency made him blink in disbelief. No way could this be right. No way could her pulse have been this rapid, she would have had to been running for hours, or scared out of her wits--

Every breath you take...

Another rustle, a twig snapping, but he couldn't see what it was.
"Where are you?" He yelled. He wasn't sure who he was calling for, the girl runner, or that thing. 
But almost as if in reply, something dripped on his head. He ducked, instantly thinking a bird just dropped a wet package on his head, until another drop landed on his neck. He touched it: it was warm and thick, smooth to the touch. He looked at his hand to see what he was spreading around with his fingers, and wished he hadn't. Scarlet red smeared the tips of his fingers as more landed on his head. He took several steps back, appalled by what was landing on him, and looked up. There, swaying slightly, hanging upside down was the body of the runner he could never pass. He didn't notice what she was hanging by, he couldn't, for her face showed that whatever had killed her had scared her to death, or nearly.

He bolted, running hard, not caring the direction he was going, just to get away from this, this horror, this dream, this nightmare - until he ran into someone, or, more accurately, something. And there it was, towering over him, impossibly tall with the long arms to match, thin as a stick. Underneath the suit it's skin was pure white, as white as paper. and it's face - if you could call it that - was featureless. No nose, eyes, lips or hair. He backed away from it in a frantic rush.

"What are you?" He demanded, his voice high and shrill from fear. "What do you want?"

Every move you make...

Black shadows appeared from behind it, growing, devouring everything it touched. The shadows wiggled and crawled, engulfing the ground, trees, even the sky. He spun to run, but her body was hanging in his way. Stunned, he looked up to see what was holding her, and he saw a stark white hand wrapped around her ankle. What he thought were shadows were in fact hundreds of arms, springing out from this creature.

Every bond you break...

The wriggling arms wrapped around like a large dome, eliminating any possible escape, and closing in on all sides. He ran at the moving wall, pushing, punching, and kicking.

Every claim you stake...

Arms shot out from the wall, grabbing at him with iron grip. Then they were right behind him; the slender man, hovering over him like a dark shadow, his empty face coming closer to his, the only light in the dark; and the girl, the scream still frozen on her face, her eyes blank with white.

I'll be watching you.