Cling

Issac hadn't escaped it. He had traversed a continent and an ocean and was still hunted. Through the sand and mountain it had followed him, for what reason he had no idea. He remembered when it all started, those years ago, he had ran the signs in his mind hundreds of times and still couldn't understand why it was him of all people.

It started out as small signs, maybe a tap on the window, fluttering at the corner of his eye, he would write it of as just a trick of his mind, he was only a boy. After a while it made itself a bit more...apparent. As he wrote, maybe watched television or was out playing with his friends, he would see something that it seemed no one else could. At first, he saw the cloak. It was as if someone had merely thrown a tarp onto an ever-swirling mass, it controrted and flew freely in places it just shouldn't. He'd acknowledge it maybe once or twice, even at an older age he still thought nothing of it. He began seeing shadows belonging to no present entity, but they would dissappear whenever he got too close. His parents never believed him, nor did his friends or siblings, how could they? He was the one the thing wished to be seen by.

Suddenly tripping, Issac tumbled down the hill and quickly cocked his head behind him to see the haunting figure approaching fast. It didn't walk so much as it limped, but regardless its flimsy figure still allowed it to move faster than he could. Finally he made it to his home, locked the doors and the windows and grabbed his shotgun. His homeland taught him well when he served in the millitary, but nothing could have prepared him for a threat such as this.

When he finally gave up on telling anyone of his plights, Issac entered into a time of peace. No odd occurances or paranormal activity, nothing. As brief as it was Issac still remembered it fondly, as it was the last moments of his blissful ignorance. It was that one night he heard it. Sleeping in his bed, the tranquility surrounding him was suddenly broken by a sudden sound...

Hissssssssssssssssss

He awoke with a jolt only to find he was alone. He stepped out briefly and went to the bathroom across the hall to grab a quick drink of water. As he stepped into the light and looked in the mirror he say it. The cloaked figure had no skin, no eyes, or anything. It was just a bare skeleton draped in that pure black cloak he had been tauning Issac with all those years ago. It let its jaw hang open for a moment until it dissappeared through the walls behind him. Issac ran back to his room, refusing to accept what he had seen. Surely this was a nightmare, a hallucination, some excuse to justify that it wasn't real! His hopes shattered as he saw the indentions of boney fingers and knees on the mattress where he slept. It was right over him.

Shotgun loaded, Issac tore into his kitchen thinking he'd find the beast there, only to find nothing out of the ordinary. Relieved, he turned to find the beast starting right back at him, mere inches from his face. He screeched and fired once. The beast smiled, as best as it could, and simply held a hand out to the boy. Before the icy bone could make contact, Issac flipped the shotgun around and...

***

It was a typical day at the presinct, albeit a boring one. Even to an officer squimish in the line of duty any sort of call would be satisfying, though they appreciated the lack of emergencies. As the shift neared its end the officers began having casual conversation. They came to the topic of the oddest cases they'd ever encountered, and began. Most were lament over the rookie's lack of experience, however even he managed to bring something to the table.

"I do remember...one. Um...I remember there was this suicide in my neighborhood, poor kid blasted his brains out with a double barrel."

A mix of interested looks and quasi-disggusted mannerisms ensued.

"Was there a note?"

The rookie held his head.

"Um...yeah. Though it sure as hell wasn't in a language I understand."

One inquired again,

"Do you remember what it looked like?"

"Yeah...hand on"

The rookie grabbed a pen and took out a pocket notepad and quickly scribbled some indescrible markings on it and showed it to the precinct.

A gasp, then a loud crash. The lieutenant had apparently been taken aghast by this, but quickly gathered himself and rushed towards the rookie. He snatched the paper and the color drained from his face.

"It...it's Yiddish"

The lieutenant had been born in Israel, lived there until he was late in his teens. He had always been fluent in English, though he still did recognize his native language of Hebrew.

"Um..."

The lieutenant looked up.

"What does it say?"

What followed was an echo of the same inquiry amongst the present officers. The lieutenant replied, seeming as he was struggling to keep back tears. Finally, he turned and started slowly for the exit. He solemnly turned back to face the group of his men, and chocked out a single word,

"Dybbuk"

The lieutenant left the precinct in utter silence.