The Window Man

Ryan sat in his room. Artificial light filled his small apartment with a calming synthetic daylight. While just outside his first story window, that store bought calm was consumed by the void of night. That very same dark veil held home to what stole sleep from him so many nights that week.
   A hot summer in a building with no air conditioning leaves a man with no choice. The only possibility of surviving such hellish heat is a ceiling fan, and the hope of a faint breeze. A whisper of breath, from the loving conductor of the hillside ballad that play softly in the distance. The trees swayed the first night things started to happen. Like any other night they danced in the moonlight, but it was Ryan realizing he was not in his bed that was strange. Instead, he was standing at his window. However, nothing about this was startling. Say, for the minuscule, and ignorable feeling that he was being watched.
   Being that Ryan had never had an issue with sleepwalking, he somewhat enjoyed the phenomena. Always, somewhat wondering what it would be like if it happened, and happy that it had. The following nights were not as warm, so he instead cracked his window. It was also the following nights where he would wake in the dead of night, for no reason; other than perhaps the faint fading unmistakable sound of something walking away from his window. Again, such an excusable happenstance did not cause him much more uncomfort then the sleepwalking had.
The mornings after he would ask his land lord if he had been working on the property those nights. Each time, the very nice man, would insist that it was not him. Perhaps, an animal, he would suggest. Although this pacified his small curiosity concerning the noises, it did not give him the sleep he needed to perform at work. Since Ryan was such a good worker, his boss insisted that he take the rest of the week off. Ryan managed a frozen yogurt establishment named, Fro-Zen. 
   His store was the most decorated, with Fro-Zen placks of achievement. Including, but not limited to; Fro-Zen General Manager of the Year, five years running. Ryan had a Masters in Civil Engineering, and graduated at the top of his class. He would tell everyone at Fro-Zen that he couldn’t just take any CE job, it had to be the right one. Ten years later he jokes with his brand new Associate Managers, that the slogan should be “Pig Out and Chill Out”. As they laugh, he would think of the other batches of “new” managers that had laughed at the same joke. Ryan took the days off.
   His mother asked him again, when he was going to get married, and find a REAL job. So, he drank and tried to convince himself his life was on track. Though he was certain that he had fallen asleep in bed, he woke up sitting in a chair that had been moved to look out his window. That day he would recall a memory of sitting there, looking out into the blackness. Every now, and then the moon gleaming just enough to show a figure in the distance. It wasn’t raining that night, but he remember’s moisture on his hand, and cheek. It must have been a dream.
Nights after, he would wake to foot steps toward his window that would stop directly in front of it. Though the blinds were drawn, and clearly nothing was there. The terror in Ryan grew as he stared into the night, as if he was starring into the eyes of the beast itself. Now Ryan hasn’t slept, and asks his doctor for help. The Doctor assures him there is nothing wrong, and that the best cure is rest. That these happenings are just a product of stress, and lack of restful sleep.
   On the way home from picking up his prescription he would almost run over a kitten with his car. Unsure, and worried he came to find no evidence of the kitten so he carried on. Ryan gets home, and takes one of the pills. Finally he sleeps.
   The next morning is flush with levity. Awash with exuberance, and joy. Ryan kicks himself for believing in the nonsense that had him convinced he was being hunted. That something, was stalking him with effervescent malice. Nights where he could feel its warm breath on his neck. Holding the line like some damned evil sentry. Waiting patiently to collect it’s prize, it’s meal, it’s remuneration. That stuff doesn’t happen here, he would think.
   A strange sound brings Ryan from his chemical sleep. He halts for affirmation that the noise is real, then slowly takes his covers off to sit on his bed. The noise is tender and innocent. Slipping gently through his window, and into his ear to make home. The kitten must have found it’s way to me, since it was not too far from his home that the incident had happened. Ryan walked slowly toward the window, and turned the knobs to open it. Alas, the kitten was not there. Instead the last thing he would see was seemingly human, but lacked the distinctive feelings of humanity. In the seconds that Ryan had to react he would feel the most fear he had ever felt. This murder was deemed suicide by local authorities, and the details of the scene were not released.
   

Some say The Window Man does not have purpose. Others say he is a soldier of natural selection, killing off the truly weak. Though there is one thing everyone can agree
The Window Man sees you, and he sees me.