The Winged Man

Hello, My name is Paul Baker and I work as a psychologist in a small village called Neswille. As a psychologist, I can assure you that I have all of my marbles together and do not show any symptoms of schizophrenia nor maladaptive daydreaming.

"Why are you introducing yourself?" You might be asking.

Well, I have a pretty wild story for you, so I hoped my introduction will assure you of the truth of this story. Please take a seat and get comfortable. It all began one late Tuesday evening...

I was quietly walking down a street, wet as a mouse, because I forgot to take my umbrella in the morning rush.

"I hate sudden rains," I thought to myself when someone (or rather something) caught my eyes - a tall person standing under a streetlight.

Normally, a wouldn't think much of it, but the reason that forced me to halt was the height of the person in question. They were tall...too tall for a human. Their slim form was towering over the passing cars as a blade of grass towers over an ant. I swiftly looked around me, but the few passersby seem unfazed by the person. The creature was gone in a heartbeat.

"Pff," I sighed to myself. "I think should go to sleep earlier today," and continued on my way home.

I met my dear wife Stefanie at the doorway, kissed her and muttered quick love you before she went to the car and left to hospital. She works as a surgeon and suddenly had to go to work, because of some massive car incident caused by wet road and impatient drivers.

I went to take a quick shower, trying to ignore small puddles of dark fluid which seemed to disappear the moment I looked at them. I tried to not to think much of them and after a quick evening routine, finally went to the bed. It took me all my strength to not to scream my lungs out.

There he was. The "man" from under the streetlight, quietly standing in the corner of my room, watching me with its ey- no, holes where the eyes were supposed to be. Large wings tightly tucked behind it's back highlighting the deer skull replacing his head. I wonder how I didn't notice it together with a pair of bone-white antlers sitting at the top of the skull.

My heart was beating too fast for my own good as I watched the black oily fluid (which I supposed was the skin of it) slowly drip to the marble floor which was so carefully cleaned by Stefanie. As it's thin clawed fingers reached to me, it disappeared.

Of course, the Winged Man, as I decided to call him was haunting me in my dreams. He did things, awful things, which cannot be rightfully described by the mouth of a mere mortal. Every time I think of those dreams, I feel his stare which sends needles crawling under my skin and makes my hair stand up. And even though I don't remember much of them, here are the fragments of the picture.

There was a lot of blood, his blood, which covered the silvery steel of a kitchen knife I was cutting carrots with when I stabbed him in the gut after sensing him sneaking up on me. And even though my action was justified, I still cannot shake off the feeling of his warm oily blood covering my hands and dripping down my elbows.

To my surprise, he didn't seem to be bothered by the injury I bestowed upon him. I would say the injury even spiced up the things for him, since he smiled, intentionally showing off his sharp canines. At that moment, the time seemed to stop. All my mind was saying, or rather screaming at me were only three words.

Get. Out. Now.

And so with all my strength, I pushed the knife deeper into his gut, slamming him to the wall. As I was running to the front doors, I looked behind my shoulder and saw him on his knees, the trail of blood splattered on the wall showing the trajectory of his fall.

By the time I turned back, I was already at the door, tugging the doorknob with all of my leftover strength. The door finally opened and I leapt out of the door.

Natheless, my freedom was taken from me like a bat out of hell, by two skeletal yet vigorous hands. The last things I remember were my bloodcurdling screams and two bloody trails left by my own hands, as I was trying to a slither out of his grip back to the brightness behind the doorframe.

Stefanie told me I looked awfully at the breakfast, so I decided to tell her the events of yesterday. She did not believe me at first but quickly changed her opinion after I got a call she found a black puddle in the bedroom. Even though I told her to keep it a secret, she called her friend Molly (a spiritualist) about the events of yesterday. Long story short, the whole Neswille knew about the Winged Man in a matter of minutes.

Since our village is highly religious, our neighbours were so scared, that by the time I came home from work, I saw a priest standing by the doors of my house, obviously ready to exorcise the Winged Man. Since I didn't want conflicts with neighbours, I let the priest to perform his duty.

After a few minutes of chanting, murmuring prayers and sprinkling holy water around my house, the priest left thinking the Man was gone. It was a kind of funny because the Winged Man was standing right next to him during the whole cleansing ritual, so I guessed he did not give the slightest damn about the water blessed by God.

His visit lasted another 2 days, which were full of not so nice surprises. I took a few days of work because the situation was getting worse. I was seeing the Man outside of the nightmares - standing in the hallway, sitting on a counter or towering over my clueless wife. His favourite spot was a couch in our living room.

On the fourth night, I was lying in my bed, expecting him to quietly watch me from the corner of my room. But to my surprise, he didn't show up. To add up to my amazement, I quickly prayed to the one who has never answered my prayers, referred to as "God" by others and pleaded him to not to let the Winged Man enter our house again.

Life went back to normal. Or so I thought. The six months of bliss were shattered when I saw the Winged Man comfortably sitting on my couch, giving me a shit-eating grin. I once again realised that the "God" did not give the slightest shit about me.

Therefore I smirked back at him, brought us two cups of iced whiskey and plopped down next to the Winged Man as if we were old friends.