He always has a grin in his face, but it's a bloody grin, a flesh wound from ear to ear. And it always seemed freshly cut, as if someone had stabbed the corners of his mouth just minutes earlier.
He had no hair, and more disturbingly, no eyes. It wasn’t just empty sockets though, there was just no eyes there, as if it wasn’t even human.
Just straight, hard skin where the eyes are supposed to be. He is tall as well, probably about 6' 4” and very pale, white as the exposed bone of a broken leg.
His thin arms end in very long, pointy fingers with dark nails, not painted, rotten.
He dresses in dirty grey rags and if you get close enough, you’ll be able to listen to a faint, heavy breathing.
I was 6 years old when I first saw him. Woke up at night and there he was, at the corner of my room, long arms barely moving, the dirty white head facing me with no eyes to see.
I yelled, my parents came running in. A monster, I said. There are no monsters, they told me. It was still there, but they couldn’t see him.
As time went on, they started thinking I was crazy, so I stopped talking about it. Years passed.
He would go away sometimes, for a few days, maybe weeks, but sooner or later, wherever I was, he’d appear in the corner of the room, standing, watching.
That went on for years, it's the only life i ever knew. The constant fear, the expectation for the day he'd finally do something, hurt me.
But one day I discovered a local psychic in a newspaper ad. I went to see her and, as soon as I sat down to tell my problem, he appeared. I was scared, but… she saw it, she could see him as well.
That was a first. So I asked her, I begged her to help me. How do I get rid of him? And she told me, she really did.
What you must do, she said, is tell people. Tell them how he looks. Describe it as best as you can, really make them visualize him. They’ll imagine, and someone, someday, will get it right.
Someone will come close enough, picture just the right appearance. That’s what lures him in. Once he's inside your mind, he's inside your life.
She told me that when someone picture him just right, eventually that person will enter a room and he will be waiting there, at the corner, with his bloody grin, and I will be free at last.