The Neighbor in the Black Hood

It wasn’t the best day outdoors, but I was out anyway. It was unnaturally dark and dreary, but I had to practice for the upcoming championship of Boxpuck, a sport me and my friends made up two years ago when we were ten. It was a mix between hockey and boxing and the main goal is to score and knock as many people over as possible. I admit, it was a bit rowdy, but I didn’t much care seeing as I was a more heavyset kid, 120 pounds and 5’2.

I ran to grab the hockey puck, knocking my friend Jonathan over while I was at it. I threw it into the small net and then laughed at my friend for being an utterly terrible player. I walked over to him and knelt down. He was on his side in an awkward position, with his head twisted awkwardly. It couldn’t have been comfortable so I turned him over and asked if he was okay. His eyes were closed and his mouth was shut. “John?” I asked, sort of worried. No response was given.

“JOHN!” I shouted in his face, but once again I received no response from him.

I felt for his pulse in all spots, luckily I remembered them from health class the day before. In all four areas, I felt nothing. Now knowing he was dead, I started to cry. I as panicking but in so much shock at the same time to where I couldn’t even react. All of a sudden there was a blaring loud scream. I jumped back in surprise, now even more shaken up from fear. In the distance I heard a faint chuckle.

I looked down at my feet, seeing my friend Jonathan’s eyes half-open. Then I saw his mouth open and I heard great laughter. I started seeing tears slide down his cheeks as he rolled around on the narrow-built cardboard Boxpuck stadium. He grasped his stomach and howled with laughter. As I watched, every single ounce of fear in my body turned into pure rage.

“You immature idiot!” I screamed at him, annoyed and frustrated.

I swung my fist down and punched him straight in the stomach. It didn’t even stop him from laughing. He managed to stand up, but staggered several times before gripping balance and calming his laughter. He rubbed his blubbery fingers through his golden brown hair, sweat dripping down his forehead.

“How’d you manage to stop your pulse? I checked in every spot and there was nothing. Your eyes were shut, you were completely immobilized and freezing cold,” I asked.

“First of all, you weren’t checking my pulse, you were applying pressure to my Adam’s apple and palms!” He roared with laughter, then continued his sentence. “Then, I was faking, trying to freak you out- and you can’t say it wasn’t working because I saw you cry. Third, the only reason I was ice cold is because we’ve been out here in T-shirts for over two hours in thirty-four degree weather,” he finished.

He proceeded to cross his arms and wait for me to respond. Suddenly, I hear a door creak open. I looked across the fake stadium floor and saw our neighbor’s door wide open. In the set center of the doorway stood a large male, a few years older than me and John. He was maybe 5’5 and 160 pounds. He was a white kid with extremely dark hair. He wore a black hoodie and ragged, dirty jeans. He had his arms by his sides and his hands made into fists. He continually stared at us for minutes, and I stared back. I have to admit that it was weird, as I had never seen this teen boy before. I turned to talk to Johnathan.

“Who is that creep?” John asked.

“I have no idea, I’ve never seen him before in my life. Just look at the weirdo.”

I turned and looked to my right once more, but this time there was nothing there. The door was closed and the kid was gone. I quickly spun around to look at John, but he was also gone. I peered around the corner but I only caught a slight glimpse of what looked like two shadows walking around the side of the building. I walked back inside and made myself a sandwich, then went up to my room and went to bed. The next morning when I finally awoke, I decided to call John over, because we had a few hours before we had to be at school. His house’s phone rung and rung, but nobody picked up. I tried his cell phone, and the same thing happened.

“Weird,” I mumbled to myself.

I went outside and sat on the porch, listening to my iPod and playing on my Nintendo DS. About two hours later, I text John to see if he was okay. I received a text back that contained a picture and words. It read, “The Neighbor”. The image was of the teenage boy we had spotted the night before. He was most likely messing with me, so I sent him back a selfie with words ‘The Jason’.

It was cold at the bus stop that morning, most likely colder than the night before. It was eerie, though. I saw this creepy teenage boy appear and disappear out of thin air, but then Johnathan was gone as well. Then for him to send me a picture of the same guy? It didn’t make sense. All these conspiracy, scary, and demented thoughts ran through my head. What could be so bad, honestly though? I didn’t even know that neighbor guy.

The bus pulled up in front of me so three other kids and I got on the bus. The bus driver didn’t say anything to us, which was unusual, normally he will give us a greeting. I sat down and checked my surroundings. There was no one in front of me, to the left of me, but on my right hand side, I saw him. The boy in the hoodie. This time he had a knife in his left hand. He raised his right arm and in his palm, was a picture of Johnathan. He took his knife, slashed the picture in half, and then disappeared in a puff of black smoke. I curled up in one corner of my seat because I knew what he had done. I now realized that I would never see my best friend again.

I looked at the picture- then I saw it. The back of the picture he slashed had a note. The writing was barely legible, I couldn’t make any of it out then that, too disappeared. Then the bus came to a sudden stop. Everyone was told to get off, we had arrived at school.

I went in and from then on it seemed normal. The only odd or out-of-place things I noticed was a few groups of boys were talking about this ‘weird kid in a hoodie.’ Then I realized that they were all witnesses of seeing my neighbor. At this point, I wasn’t even sure if it was my neighbor. Out of all of this though, he only seemed to go after teens and pre-teens, such as kids 11 or 12. This may have been because he was a teenager himself. Though by now, all I know is that he killed Johnathan- and I hated him for this.

Over a week went by, and I never once saw the neighbor. Now, this is what I refer to him as. I was sitting in my room, drowning on my sadness. The Boxpuck tournament still hadn’t been canceled, and it was the next day. John was gone, my parents were always working, and the Neighbor kept popping up. None of these were in a visual form. I discovered that he was drawn on ancient artifacts, written about in history books, and many other things. After this, I started to do my research.

It turns out, he has been around as long as anything in existence. He is the ruler of all things evil, his name is The Borghein- or ‘ruler of death’. He always says “Knock, knock” before grabbing his victims and absorbing their souls. He can be wounded but not killed, as he is immortal.

Now, in present day America, I have not seen or heard from the Neighbor in over twenty years. I am thirty-six now. Although, it seems as if someone is knocking at my door. I hear something also, faint and nearly inaudible words.

“Knock, knock.”