Me

I walked home, fatigued from a grueling day at the office. I wasn’t looking forward to a lonely house for the night, but my wife had gone over to her mother’s town. Switching on the TV, I grabbed some leftovers and fixed myself a moderately acceptable dinner, settling down comfortably onto the couch and flipping through the channels to where a random football match was being aired. I don’t know when exactly I dozed off, but I woke up to my upside down plate of food staining my shirt a deep brown. It would be a bother to clean. A strange tapping had roused me from my sleep. Not bothering to pick up my spectacles from the floor, I ambled towards where the noise was coming from, not bothering to check where I was going, groggy from sleep. The lack of spectacles had blurred my vision extensively. Pulling open the door, I came face to face with a man of my height and similarly gelled black hair. But his eyes were clearly a flaming red. Lenses, maybe? Maybe it was Halloween, work usually made me lose track of dates.
“Hello, sir, what do you want?”

The strange man gave no reply. I tried to smile, but it came out as a grimace, distorted by sleep. I tried once more.
“What do you want?” 

The man had no reply. A weirdly shaped arm extended towards me, and black spots danced in my vision. I was choking, and my windpipe felt like it was going to collapse soon. I tried to back off, but something invisible held me there. Eventually, I lost the battle, falling to the floor with sharp pain shooting through my veins. The last thing I saw was a smirk, the teeth like glistening daggers of green. But my memory couldn’t be relied upon. 

The next morning, clutching my head, I slowly awoke. The happenings of last night flooded into my brain and I looked towards the door. Only to find that it wasn’t a door at all. My own reflection in the mirror glinted beguilingly at me, as if it knew, as if it was laughing at me.