The Smiling Man
650 Words
Chapter 5
Ethan didn't sleep.
Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the stranger standing across the street.
Watching.
Waiting.
By morning, the man was gone.
But the feeling remained.
The feeling that someone was following him.
That someone knew about the Pen.
Lena stayed longer than usual.
Neither of them wanted to be alone.
The rules they had discovered kept replaying in Ethan's mind.
Everything written becomes reality.
Every creation requires a sacrifice.
The Pen feeds on fear.
The last rule disturbed him the most.
It must never fall into the wrong hands.
The words felt less like a warning and more like a prophecy.
Around noon, Lena finally left.
Before closing the door behind her, she turned back.
"Promise me something."
"What?"
"Don't use the Pen."
Ethan hesitated.
Then nodded.
"I promise."
For the rest of the day, the notebook remained untouched on his desk.
Yet Ethan couldn't stop looking at it.
The Pen seemed to pull at him.
Whispering from the corner of the room.
Calling to him.
By evening, temptation won.
Just one story.
Nothing serious.
Nothing dangerous.
He convinced himself it would be harmless.
Sitting at his desk, he opened the notebook to a blank page.
The feather pen felt colder than ever.
Slowly, he began to write.
A character formed in his mind.
A pale man with unnaturally white skin.
A man whose smile stretched far wider than any human smile should.
A man who appeared outside windows.
Outside doors.
Outside homes.
Watching people.
Waiting for them to notice him.
Ethan smiled at the idea.
It was creepy.
Perfect for a horror story.
When he finished, he closed the notebook and pushed it away.
The room immediately felt colder.
A sharp chill moved through the apartment.
His lamp flickered.
Once.
Twice.
Then steadied.
Ethan swallowed.
For a brief moment, he thought he heard laughter.
Soft.
Distant.
Almost hidden beneath the sound of the wind.
He left the room and tried not to think about it.
The next evening, Ethan returned home after meeting with his publisher.
The sun had already set.
Streetlights cast long shadows across the sidewalk.
As he approached his apartment building, something caught his attention.
A figure stood across the street.
Motionless.
His stomach tightened.
The man was pale.
Very pale.
Even beneath the streetlights.
At first Ethan thought it was a trick of the light.
Then he saw the smile.
A wide grin stretched across the stranger's face.
Far too wide.
Far too unnatural.
The man's eyes never blinked.
They remained fixed on Ethan.
Watching him.
Ethan froze.
The description from his story flashed through his mind.
No.
That wasn't possible.
His breathing quickened.
The smiling man slowly lifted one hand.
And waved.
Ethan stumbled backward.
A passing car drove between them.
For a split second, the stranger disappeared from view.
When the car passed—
He was gone.
The sidewalk was empty.
Nothing remained.
No footprints.
No sign that anyone had been there.
Ethan hurried inside his building and locked the apartment door behind him.
His hands trembled.
This wasn't like the murder.
This wasn't a coincidence.
He had written the Smiling Man.
And now he had seen him.
A loud knock echoed through the apartment.
Ethan nearly jumped out of his skin.
Three slow knocks.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
Silence followed.
Heart pounding, he approached the door.
He looked through the peephole.
Nobody.
The hallway was empty.
Relieved, he stepped away.
Then another sound came.
Not from outside.
From behind him.
Inside the apartment.
A quiet chuckle.
Ethan spun around.
The room was empty.
But on the desk, the notebook had opened by itself.
Fresh black ink was spreading across the page.
Forming words.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
Ethan stared as the sentence completed itself.
He likes being noticed.
Then another line appeared.
Now he knows where you live.
The lights went out.
And somewhere in the darkness, someone smiled.
- Writer
